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#ten and a half year relationship and an engagement she throw away for
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Hit the link limit on my original series masterlist so this is part 2.
*includes smut
Spencer x Reader Series Masterlist 1
Spencer x Reader Blurbs
Spencer x Reader Oneshots
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You Know My Heart (two parter) - you’ve been in love with your playboy best friend Spencer Reid for ten long years. But when you get engaged and finally start to get over him, Spencer suddenly realises he can’t live without you and he has to stop the wedding at any cost. (Fem! Reader)
Part One
Part Two
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Somewhere to Belong (Mini Series) - You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to start a family and it throws you into turmoil. And that’s only made worse he meets five year old orphan Wren Briar and is determined to do whatever it takes to adopt her. Even if that means destroying your relationship. (Fem! Reader)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
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No Distance Left to Run (Mini Series) - Truth or Dare? A harmless teenage game gone wrong when spoken by the man holding you hostage. And when you’re feeling for your best friend come to light after fifteen years, how will you and Spencer cope in the aftermath? (Fem! Reader)
Part One - Truth or Dare?
Part Two - Never Have I Ever
Part Three - Hide and Seek
Part Four - Dominoes
Part Five - Red Light, Green Light
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Me & You & Everyone We Know - Spencer Reid thought he had the perfect life. He has his two beautiful daughters, large house in the suburbs and a steady, albeit slightly unconventional marriage.
But even geniuses reserve the right to be wrong every once in while.
Now he’s struggling to adjust to life as a single divorced dad of two whilst working full time and navigating the unsteady waters of the dating world.
But his divorce left him more damaged than he’d ever admit. And you have to decide if you’re strong enough to deal with falling in love with a man who’s heart doesn’t fully belong to him. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+
Chapter 1 - Out on the Weekend
Chapter 2 - Today My Life Begins
Chapter 3 - Brand New
Chapter 4 - Bonfire Heart*
Chapter 5 - Nobody’s Supposed to be Here*
Chapter 6 - Lonely Together
Chapter 7 - All at Once
Chapter 8 - Half of My Heart
Chapter 9 - As it Seems*
Chapter 10 - She Had the World*
Chapter 11 - No Tomorrow*
Chapter 12 - Let it Hurt
Chapter 13 - Life Ain’t Always Beautiful
Chapter 14 - Forever Winter
Chapter 15 - Happier
Chapter 16 - My Little Girl
Chapter 17 - Someone You Loved
Chapter 18 - Sandcastles*
Chapter 19 - We’re Good
Chapter 20 - First Day of My Life
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Darkness Declares Glory - after his release from prison, Spencer Reid’s life spiralled into darkness with no sign of a light at the end of the tunnel. When he wakes up in a psychiatric facility with no memory of how he ended up there, you’re the only person he wants to see. But in order to do that, Spencer’s going to need to piece back together his fractured mind and face some cold hard truths. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+ Very Dark Themes
Chapter 1 - The Downward Spiral
Chapter 2 - I See a Darkness
Chapter 3 - Another Man’s Grave
Chapter 4 - How to Disappear Completely*
Chapter 5 - Checkmate
Chapter 6 - If You Could See Me Now
Chapter 7 - Diary of a Madman
Chapter 8 - Dear Agony
Chapter 9 - Don’t You Dare Forget the Sun
Chapter 10 - Welcome Oblivion
Chapter 11 - Modern Loneliness*
Chapter 12 - Entropy*
Chapter 13 - You Want a Battle? (Here’s a War)
Chapter 14 - Sympathy for the Devil
Chapter 15 - How to Save a Life
Chapter 16 - The Needle and the Damage Done
Chapter 17 - Thnks Fr Th Mmrs
Chapter 18 - Fell on Black Days
Chapter 19 - Away From the Sun
Chapter 20 - Begin Again
Chapter 21 - Leave it All Behind
Chapter 22 - Come Out Fighting
Chapter 23 - Long Promised Road
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What Lies in Our Anatomy - Mini Series - when you have a one night stand with a stranger you met in a bar, you never expected to see him again. You certainly didn’t anticipate the stranger to be your new boss at the BAU.
But for you and Spencer, keeping your relationship secret from the rest of the team soon becomes the least of your worries when a face from Spencer’s past threatens to tear apart everything you’ve built together.
The truth always comes out in the end, and you have to decide how you’re going to cope in the wake of his lies. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+ COMPLETE
Part One - Fear (Of the Unknown)
Part Two - Losing My Religion
Part Three - As We Know It
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Midnight - When Spencer Reid left the BAU after his stint in prison to pursue a more unsavoury career path, the last thing he expected was to have company on his journey. But after finding yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time, you become entangled in Spencer’s murderous web and the inadvertent Bonnie to his Clyde. Now the cops are closing in on the two of you and if you don’t act fast your torrid love story could meet its tragic demise. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+
Chapter 1 - Killer in the Mirror
Chapter 2 - Hourglass
Chapter 3 - Nightmare
Chapter 4 - Duality
Chapter 5 - Never Know
Chapter 6 - Raise No Fool
Chapter 7 - Go to Bed Angry
Chapter 8 - Dancing With the Devil
Chapter 9 - Who’s in Control?
Chapter 10 - Why Worry?
Chapter 11 - I’d Rather Drown
Chapter 12 - Better Than This
Chapter 13 - Different Songs
Chapter 14 - Bad Guy
Chapter 15 - The Haunting
Chapter 16 - Dangerous
Chapter 17 - Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Chapter 18 - Uncontainable
Chapter 19 - Stitch Me Up
Chapter 20 - Unopened Windows
Chapter 21 - Miss Mysterious
Chapter 22 - Skeleton
Chapter 23 - Catch Me if You Can
Chapter 24 - Partners in Crime
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Rusty - After suffering unimaginable horrors in his three months spent in prison, Spencer Reid struggles to bounce back to his former glory. And when he almost dies at the hands of Benjamin Merva, it’s one trauma too many to bear. So Spencer ups sticks and relocates to a ranch in the middle of nowhere, leaving behind his job, his friends and his relationship.
And then he meets you, a mysterious stranger, who helps him out of a tight spot. You’re looking for a place to lay low and he’s in need of assistance. It’s a match made in heaven. Isn’t it?
You both have pasts you’d rather remained buried. But when those pasts both collide in your present, it can either tear you apart or force you close together.
You’re both just a little rusty, but practice makes perfect. (Fem! Reader) NSFW 18+
More chapters coming soon
Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive
Chapter 2 - Take Me Home, Country Roads
Chapter 3 - I Walk the Line
Chapter 4 - The Ballad of the Lonesome Cowboy
Chapter 5 - Gunpowder and Led
Chapter 6 - Tumbling Tumbleweeds
Chapter 7 - Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)
Chapter 8 - A Horse With No Name
Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl
Chapter 10 - Back in the Saddle Again
Chapter 11 - All My Ex’s Live in Texas
Chapter 12 - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places
Chapter 14 - Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
Chapter 15 - Heavens Just a Sin Away
Chapter 16 - Take Your Memory With You
Chapter 17 - Gunfight at the O.K. Corral
Chapter 18 - So Little I Wanted - two part chapter
Chapter 19 - So Little I Got - two part chapter
Chapter 20 - Fires Don’t Start Themselves
Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament
Chapter 22 - If Tomorrow Never Comes
Chapter 23 - Only the Lonely
Chapter 24 - Bless the Broken Road
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Runaway - Chapter Ten.
I’M SO SORRY I didn’t post this yesterday, besties! I completely forgot, getting sidetracked with working out and chores! Here it is, though. Take your time getting to the next 30 notes, if you like, but if you’re desperate for more then no problem, all up to you guys! Thank you so much for your engagement, as ever! 
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Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine
Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed
Words - 2,120
Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!
“Oh, look at this, here’s your daddy and you’re just mad as hell! What a welcome, huh?” Hannah spoke over the puce faced, full scale meltdown her daughter was throwing as she opened her front door. Manny took the howling baby immediately, noticing right away how exhausted her mother looked.  
“Now, come on, tiny girl. Ain’t that bad, is it?” he began, talking to her soothingly, wincing when she about blew his left eardrum out, turning to Hannah. “Apparently it is.”  
“She’s been howling for the past half hour, and most of the afternoon. She isn’t running a fever, she’s fed and dry but apparently, she just wants to make me feel like I’m the worst mother on earth while sleep depriving me too, just for good measure!” she exclaimed, but lightly, trying to play it off a little with some humour. To add to it, as soon as Manny sat down on the couch with Lola rested to his chest, she finally stopped. She had to bite her lips together to prevent them from wobbling.  
Of course, he noticed. “When was the last time you got to relax for a while?”
Hannah made a thoughtful face. “Oh, let me think. First trimester, I think.”  
“Shit,” he rumbled, laughing softly before nodding in the direction of her slightly ajar bathroom door. “Go for a soak in the tub, have some you time, go on. I got this one.”
Hannah hesitated; with a look of concern Manny read with one hundred percent accuracy. “It’s alright, Hannah banana. For the last few days, whenever I’ve had a spare moment I’ve been reading up on all this parenting shit. I think I read through about fifty different websites, twenty of which contradicted the one before, so I called for backup. Lily kindly sat and basically wrote me out my own baby book of dos and don’ts, what’s really important, semi-important and what not to worry about. It’s my bible, and I got a good memory, so don’t stress. She’s in good hands.”
She looked placated by that information, smiling fondly, touched that he was really taking the role of daddy very seriously. God, she’d gotten so lucky. “Thank you. I’ll be out in half an hour.”
“Take your time.” He winked, kissing Lola’s soft, sweet-smelling head, Hannah heading into her bathroom, her emotions stirred. There within the dark brown tilled room, the water chugging into the deep tub from the double faucet and filling the air with steam that the whirring extractor took care of, she poured in her bubble bath as silent tears slipped from her eyes. After everything she’d been through, it was such a relief that the man who had fathered her baby was being completely effortless in all of this.  
With Michael, it had been hell. Absolute hell.  
It had started a month and a half after their breakup, Michael calling and asking if they could meet, stating that after having time to reflect and regardless of everything, he missed her. She’d turned down his request, explaining that while she still felt awful over her actions, she was at peace with the result of them. He seemed to take it with grace to begin with, wishing her well... until the text messages began flooding in.  
‘We can make it work, Hannah. Okay, so maybe I’ve been a little too assertive in our relationship, too quick to take the lead, so let’s give it a chance for me to make up for that, give you a little more freedom of choice. How about that?’
Except she’d mentioned the unfairness in the past, and he’d done nothing about it. If he really wanted to change, he would have done so before then. At forty-two years old, he’d had ample time to better himself.
‘Come on, babe. There’s no point ignoring me. You know we’re both at the age now where it makes sense to settle down, so why not with each other now that I’m making the effort to change?’
Except he wasn’t.
‘Hannah, this is fucking ridiculous. You know we’re meant to be together, come on! What, have you found someone else? Just call me, okay?’
And then he began turning up at her apartment, banging on the front door, calling for her to come out and face him, or let him in so they could talk. He’d spend hours out there, becoming verbally aggressive, trying to pick the locks, threatening her if she didn’t let him in. After the third consecutive night, she’d abandoned her hope that he would get bored and called the police, her neighbours also lodging complaints about him disturbing the peace.  
On and on he persisted, even taking to watching her apartment after he’d finished work, following her when she went out to the store or met up with Shonda or her family, even barging his way into the restaurant she and Ange, her sister-in-law had been having dinner at one evening, having to be physically removed by three of the servers, Hannah mortified and frightened by the scene he’d made.  
After that, he went quiet, Hannah thinking that luck might have shone on her a little, recently finding out that she was pregnant, dealing with the stress and shock of that, knowing that she was too far gone for a termination, and even if she wasn’t, deciding that she didn’t actually want one. She very much wanted to be a mother.  
She was twenty-one weeks, with her little bump showing nicely, when Michael made an appearance again, following her from the store one night, confronting her in the parking garage beneath her apartment block. He’d screamed at her so much, she’d trembled in fright, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively as he’d ranted at her.  
“How dare you do not tell me! How fucking dare you. That’s my child too, Hannah, I have rights, you know!”  
She’d been too frightened by his escalating aggression to reveal the fact that there was only a fifty percent chance that the baby was his. Thankfully, that night she’d had Jayden, her neighbours’ son come to her aid, all six feet six of him towering over Michael, advising that he should back the hell down, watching him leave before insisting on escorting Hannah back upstairs while carrying her groceries, well-mannered kid that he was.  
After that, she’d had his mother on her back, his sisters, and him, so much so she’d had to change her phone number and had, for a while, seriously considered selling her apartment and moving elsewhere. He then began to reach out via email, hundreds of messages per week, continuing to show up on her doorstep, Hannah cataloguing it all before taking it to the police, Ange, Jayden, his parents and a few other neighbours providing statements that backed up her claim for harassment and stalking. To put it mildly, she’d been frightened out of her mind for her safety, with how he’d behaved.
It was only when she’d reached her thirtieth week of pregnancy that finally, the restraining order was put into effect, and everything calmed down. By that time, though, she was exhausted and had been ever since. Raising a baby as a single mother, while continuing to work was the toughest thing she’d ever done.  
Her parents had helped, both doting on Lola, having her to stay overnight on occasion so Hannah could get a full night of sleep and have time to run her errands, but still, it had been so tiring, being the full-time caregiver, doing it all alone.  
Thank heavens she didn’t have to any longer, dying her eyes as she sniffed, undressing and sliding into the bath, sinking down until she was submerged completely. While she was relaxing, Manny was getting to grips with being on dad duty.  
“How the hell can something so small and pretty produce what can only be described as demonic shit? For real, tiny girl. That ain’t right,” he spoke, his daughter now fresh and clean, the offending diaper tied into a bag and condemned to the trash. “I thought I was gonna have to call a priest for a moment. Oh, ya’lll smiling at me now, huh? You think this is funny, don’t you?”
He tickled her, watching her grin grow wider, lifting her up and carrying her back out of her room, glad he’d actually managed to change her successfully without having to call Hannah for help. YouTube videos provided a wealth of information when someone new to all of this – as he very much was – required a little demonstrative instruction.
He’d have been lying if he’d stated he didn’t find it daunting, being responsible for another person, a tiny one at that, but he wouldn’t fail Lola like his own father had failed him. He’d learned that Manuel Snr had passed away seven years ago from colon cancer. He found that quite fitting, that such an asshole be taken out literally by his own asshole. It was something he touched upon later that evening with Hannah, after Lola had thankfully gone to sleep without fuss.  
“I want to thank you again, for stepping up, making all of this so easy,” she told him, Manny reaching to squeeze her hand.  
“I ain’t gonna be no deadbeat dad. I had one of those,” he explained, continuing when Hannah’s face shifted to curiously sympathetic. “He walked out on my mom, my siblings and I when I was five. We never saw him again, not even when my mom managed to locate him in order to serve his no-good ass with divorce papers. He never cared about any of us, but thank fuck I had the best goddamned male role model in my gramps. He raised me better than to abandon a child, and I wouldn’t anyway, because no kid deserves their dad to be that fuckin’ selfish, you know?”
“Jesus, that’s awful.” She shook her head, her forehead creasing. “I’m so sorry you had that happen to you.”  
“Don’t be,” he assured, “because if I hadn’t, I likely wouldn’t have had such a healthy childhood, growing up on the ranch in La Paz County. It’s beautiful out there.”  
“You grew up on a ranch? What, with cattle and horses and everything?” she exclaimed softly, her eyes lighting up. “You only mentioned that you’d moved to Yuma because of a girl, and then ended up here because of, what was it you called it, a conflict of interests in your club back there. I never knew about the ranch!”
“Yeah, Blackstone Ranch was my home until I was twenty-five. Long days, hard work, but it was cool. I miss it sometimes, being on horseback for most of the day, out in the wilds,” he revealed, Hannah continuing to look amazed.
“Oh wow, you can ride? You actually worked there, too?”
“Hell yeah, darlin’. I was a cowboy before I switched to being a Mayan. My gramps got me up on quarter horse when I was six. He didn’t believe in letting me learn on a pony, and for that I thank him. I got good control. Whenever I go back, he gets me up on the unruly youngsters, because I’m hard to throw. I got an ass like glue once it hits the saddle.”
“This is so fascinating! I rode for a little bit as a child, but I quit after falling and breaking my collarbone. I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have got back on, but that nasty pain kinda scared me out of the saddle,” she shared, Manny nodding.
“Well, gramps asked when I’d be coming to visit so he and my gran can meet Lola. We’ll have to get you back up on a horse while we’re there.”  
Her face was a picture of trepidation, but inside, she sparkled at the prospect, of being introduced to his family, seeing the world he’d come from. “Do you ever miss it?”
“I do,” he began candidly. “Not the 4am starts, but I miss my grandparents, and my horse. I got a mare called Midnight, most beautiful, soulful horse in the world. Gramps made me break her in as a crazy two-year-old when I was eighteen. She’s mostly retired now, but she doesn’t have a clue that she’s twenty-three and technically on her way to being an old gal. She still loves to run; still jumps anything you point her at. Typical Mustang, she’ll be all fire until the day she dies.”
Listening to him speak of his old life, and his plans to include her in revisiting it made her chest flood with warmth. And then it hit her.  
He was engaged.  
Just when things were seeming to become simpler for her.  
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ficmuse · 1 year
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Favorite Fanfics of 2022
Excellent fics I read this year
Gotham, Harry Potter, HOTD, MCU
Gotham
Edward Nygma/Leslie Thompkins
i could be your stoker by falsepriest
Lee Thompkins walks into a bar, and the joke unravels from there.
Harry Potter
Dramione
Amortentia by LadyMidnight87
To prove he’s trying to engage more in Hogwarts life (as per McGonagall’s instructions) Draco Malfoy volunteers in Potions class to be the taste-tester for Neville Longbottom’s badly brewed Amortentia (Love Potion).
When it becomes clear it hasn’t quite worked how it should, Hermione Granger is assigned to be his minder for the day.
And, as the muggles say: Truth will out, yes?
A Season for Setting Fires by mightbewriting
Torture smells like spring.
Like daffodils and tulips and snowdrops. Like the bouquets brought inside from the manor gardens to lend their life to cold stone walls that house criminals. Easter mixed with madness makes sense in this twisted landscape; Draco’s only chance at survival is to endure it. He knows this. But that doesn’t quell the twitching in his calves, the flexing in his fingers.
 Granger lifts her hand off the floor and Draco nearly loses his lunch, stomach churning as he watches her extend her arm, reaching through the translucent cord, reaching towards him. He tries to blink it away, blink blink blink, but both she and the cord are stubborn, persistent things.
    [In which a soulmate bond appears while Hermione is tortured at Malfoy Manor. Canon divergent from that moment onward.]
Season Pass (To This Ass) by mightbewriting
  “What do you mean you didn’t get me a ticket?”
Ron’s hand flew to the back of his neck, massaging a red splotch just above his collar, flushing out his freckles. “I mean, I—well, it’s not like you enjoy Quidditch all that much.”
“I went to every match you or Harry played in at school.”
“Quidditch is my hobby, not yours.”
    [In which Hermione dumps a Quidditch fan and dates a Quidditch player instead. Spite is a beautiful motivator.]
Ten out of Ten by morriganmercy
"On a scale of one to ten, how comfortable would you say you are with me physically?" she asked.
"Zero."
Hermione's lips pursed in annoyance because she really should have seen that coming. How charming that the extent of his arseholery could still surprise her.
In which Hermione is determined to find a loophole to free her from a forced marriage with Draco Malfoy. But with only two weeks until they are legally required to consummate, it would be irresponsible not to prepare for every contingency.
House of the Dragon
Aemond Targaryen/OC
Our Violent Delights by bikadoo
*WIP*
Lucerys Velaryon is born a girl.
Almost nothing changes… until Aemond Targaryen begins to take an interest in her.
It seems Targaryen uncles have a habit of falling in love with their nieces.
Daemyra
Potential by stannide
 “Do you normally snog your friends?”
    “Do you normally snog your nieces?”
One strange night throws Rhaenyra’s relationship with her ersatz uncle off-kilter. A modern AU.
MCU
Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes
Grade A American Beef by acaseofthemondays
Darcy gets stuck babysitting the Winter Soldier when Cap and the Super Secret Boy Band have to run off and do some Avenger-ing. It turns out to be a really, really great choice for everyone involved.
Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes
Everything She Didn't Know She Wanted by bluecurls
Knowing she had two soulmates comforted Darcy Lewis during the toughest moments of her life. Then she met them.
Steve Rogers/ Darcy Lewis
Good to Know by Anogete
Darcy didn't realize that Steve Rogers catching her sneaking a cigarette outside would result in them faking a relationship for the sake of his reputation, but she's definitely not complaining. As the days pass and feelings deepen, faking it becomes more difficult. But is Steve actually faking?
Their Hearts Said by Anogete
Steve is coping with the deaths of half the universe by not dealing with it at all. Darcy is desperately searching for Thor in hopes he can shed some light on what happened and why all of her family, including her best friend Jane, disappeared a few months ago. When their paths cross, they try to find something other than numbness in each other. Maybe wild sex in the stairwell and a public bathroom isn't the healthiest way of dealing with trauma, but it's all they're capable of while trying to bring back everyone they lost
The reports about my love life have been greatly exaggerated by  Amerna
When an accidental meeting between two strangers is blown way out of proportions Darcy Lewis finds herself in the middle of a media onslaught that proclaims her to be “Captain America’s super cute ordinary lady love”. The problem however: She barely knows the man and what she sees of him doesn’t really leave her with a favourable opinion. So while the press quickly finds the perfect couple nickname for them and has them practically married in seven different ways till Sunday, she’s still trying not the slap the guy. But still, their epic love story is all over the papers, and what’s in the papers must be true, right?
This Love (Left a Permanent Mark) by Archetype_Electraheart
    Captain America was blank. Captain America didn’t have a soulmate. Until now. And apparently, she had grown tired of waiting for him.
    Phil sighed. Nick was going to be a nightmare when he found out about this.
    (Or: a soulmate AU where Darcy copes with being a blank by getting tattoos and SHIELD gets quite the surprise when Captain America gets defrosted.)
Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Yaroslavna by thefudge
"He has come here for her, selfishly. Other selves be damned." Steve goes back in time for his spy. (Endgame AU)
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campmurderparty · 2 months
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gideon & blythe.
It was sort of eerie to see blythe looking like such a… grown up. In his mind, she was still the girl down the street that wore thick glasses and girlish overalls. She was still the girl that left swirly designs and cutesy bugs in chalk on the concrete, and followed him and his little pack of friends like she was the runt. She seemed to be enamored with him in particular, which led to constant teasing from his friends. Back then, Gideon saw Blythe trailing after them and always thought how annoying. At the time, he was still too young to think of girls as anything other than yucky, and his friends liked it when he was a little shithead. Above all, he wanted his friends’ admiration; he already had it from blythe, why did he have to try to get it from her?
Well, eventually Gideon grew up. He stopped seeing girls as yucky and stopped playing with action figures. Instead, he wrote short stories on his laptop and tried to get any girl to date him. He thought about what college to go to, how to get as far away from his divorcing parents as he possibly could (and then still ended up going to college an hour away), and he thought about how much of a dick he had been to blythe. Their relationship briefly patched up in his last year of high school, but their fates were not intertwined and if he were to be honest, he hadn’t thought much about blythe since graduation.
Not until he came home a few weeks ago. His mother kept the house in the divorce and while gideon had been back to visit during hanukkah every year, he never really spent more than a few days back in his childhood bedroom—too many memories, too many feelings. It hadn’t been his home in over ten years and yet, it was still the place he came to when his career was almost over before it had really started. His sophomore novel was barely a hundred pages in and he kept having to start over when the plot didn’t gel or his dialogue sounded stupid. Blythe’s engagement party was a welcome distraction, but of course, his fucking mouth got away from him.
Even as a best-selling author, Gideon still said the dumbest shit sometimes. He regretted the question the moment it hit back on his ears and he realized he sounded like such a jackass. Half-expecting blythe to throw him out of her party right then and there, he was surprised by the amusement in her tone. His body, momentarily frozen awaiting her reaction, quickly relaxed. “I may have wondered about it.” gideon answered honestly, returning his gaze to blythe. “Don’t worry, though. I’m under the impression that marriage is a prison… no offense.” damn fucking mouth! “I just don’t have very good role models in Maureen and Levi, that’s all.” Acrimonious hadn’t been a strong enough word for his parents’ divorce, and with how his father kept dating the students in his college courses, there hadn’t been hope for gideon to have a decent image of matrimony.
He laughed, taking another swig of his beer. “It hadn’t occurred to me that you’d be interested in my book. Actually, I'm surprised my mother didn’t give out three copies each to every neighbor on the street. She loves to boast about her novelist son." His mother certainly loved to talk about it to anyone willing to listen, though he doubted she actually read his novel. “If you’ve got a copy, I can sign it for you now: to blythe, the founding member of my fan club… that is, if you’re still my fan?” gideon smirked playfully, always a shameless flirt. He cast another glance at her fiancé. “So how did you two meet? He seems pretty… clean-cut.” though his stupid mouth got him into trouble, he did refrain from saying their vibes didn’t seem to match.
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erodasfishtacos · 3 years
Text
Crackin’ the Code
prompt: Harry and YN tie the knot in a beautiful castle off the coat of Italy. Harry reflects back on his life before his love. YN has past insecurities creep on on her before the wedding. 
note: this is the necklace that YN receives as (one) her wedding gifts from H and she wears it during the ceremony.
word count: 9k
warnings: smut
***<-- click for visuals throughout (super important for this one shot!)
if you enjoy this fic (which i worked REALLY hard on) please reblog, like, comment, and come talk to me!
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The world expected an extravagant wedding with week-long festivities, celebrations in destinations only the richest could afford, and all the big names of the business world who ran in his circle.
The media outlets were just waiting, quite impatiently, for the day that the richest man in Europe settled down with a significant other. They would have news stories for decades when it came to the couple.
Of course, Harry Styles was going to marry a household name - the public thought. 
Whether it be an heiress, a model, maybe even an actress? The choices for the most eligible bachelor were limitless.
Any time he was at an event, usually a charity gala or black-tie dinner, paparazzi would take candid pictures of him with any female and then the following day publish an article about how they were a couple.
However, what the world didn’t know was that he’s been in a relationship for a year and a half, has already been engaged after the eight month mark, and moved into pretty soon after but that was hushed.
Nearly no one except a few key employees and family members knew about the couple. Everyone in his office building in the heart of London had to sign NDA’s at the beginning of their job - though almost all of them didn’t know she existed.
Harry did not put any limits on YN for the wedding planning. 
No price, no expectations, nothing. If she wanted ten-thousand people or zero people in attendance that was her call. If she wanted to drop ten million dollars on a wedding or a hundred that was fine too.
The CEO never fantasized about a wedding. 
Well he had but no in the terms most do. He didn’t sit and imagine the venue, the food menu, or the decorations. 
No, he didn’t care about any of that, he daydreamed about the fact that he and someone would commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.
Harry wanted to marry his fiance after their first date.
He was usually a very patient man, couldn’t have gotten where he was if he wasn’t. When it came to this, each day he wasn’t married to the love of his life felt like torture.
Since he proposed to her in his briefs in their bedroom, he had imagined her looking immaculate in whatever she chose to wear, exchanging vows of devotion, and then being tied together for life.
He never thought he would get here. He’d never felt a connection with someone like he had with the feisty waitress who bumped into him. Begin to believe that he was broken or lacking emotion because no matter how sweet the girl was he couldn’t see himself with the person.
Don’t get him wrong. 
He took many women out on dates that were downright awful. Asking him about money, suggesting he take them on expensive vacations or buy them a designer item, being too forward and palming his crotch in the middle of dinner.
One of the last dates he went on before he gave up was the one that made him stop looking all together, about six months before he ran in YN.
---
It was an expensive restaurant in the heart of London. It had a waitlist for months but one call and they could magically make an available booth for the billionaire within the hour. 
The girl he was sitting across from was a so-to-speak blind date. 
A set up by one of his business partners who stated that they would be a good match. Harry had rolled his eyes at that but couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to say ‘no.’
Her name was Aria, she had a respectable job at a local law firm as an assistant to a very well-known lawyer in the area. 
She was beautiful in the way of looking just like an instagram model with long dark extensions, false eyelashes that made it hard to determine what color her eyes were, and an outfit that made Harry a bit embarrassed to be seen with her - short and low cut at a five-star restaurant.
“Yeah, I just got back from Mallorca with a group of friends,” She tells him, flipping through the photo album on her phone to show him pictures. 
When she ‘accidentally’ swipes (and slowly swipes) again so that Harry definitely gets a glimpse of a nude selfie.
Harry internally groans, couldn’t be less turned on by that, and doesn’t acknowledge it - much to Aria's disappointment. 
She was fishing for a compliment, maybe a request for him to take the phone and look closer at the picture like most men would.
Instead he sits back, takes a sip of his wine, and nods curtly, “It looks like you had a good time.”
She stumbles for a second, confused by his sudden standoffishness, and clicks her phone locked before putting it next to her on the table, “Did I offend you?”
He was already done with the date, with the dating scene, with fucking everything honestly. 
What a goddamn waste of a night.
Harry barks out a cruel laugh, “It takes a lot more to offend me than a picture of y’tits but it’s a bit offensive that y’think so little of yourself that you think that’s how y’going to impress me. Those tits didn’t impress me much, darling.”
Aria’s eyes narrow in blatant disbelief at how much of an asshole he was being. 
Granted, she did feel a bit of embarrassment creeping up in her stomach about thinking showing him that picture was a good idea but still, he didn’t need to react like that.
“It really makes sense why you don’t have a girlfriend, it’s because of what an asshole you are,” The girl sneers with venom as she tucks her phone into her clutch, swigging down the last drops of the expensive wine.
He shrugs like he’s unbothered, a nasty feeling quilling in the pit of his stomach as he keeps an outward expression of nonchalance and ease, it make the raven-haired woman even more furious as he replies cooly, “I’m not being an asshole, honesty hurts sometimes. Maybe if you think the way you attract someone is by nude pictures, you should try Tinder or Bumble.”
“I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have,” Aria tells him before pushing out her chair and leaving before the main course even arrives. 
Harry sits there for a moment, swallowing and pleading with himself to not let the nasty words set in because they felt too real and too personal - she had actually struck some type of chord within and it had his stomach churning.
When he pays the bill, apologizing profusely for leaving dinner before the entree arrives but with an excuse of a company emergency - it’s eerily quiet in his car as he drives home to his massive home with no one in it.
It doesn’t happen often. 
He should call his mum, Gemma, Dorothy even to talk it out but he feels so fucking alone because he can’t get it right. He can’t connect with anyone and it is starting to feel hopeless.
He is angry, so angry at himself, that he can’t shake the feeling of it and he feels like he’s losing control because he never fucking talks about his emotions.
A beautiful set of dishware was sitting out his dining room table, the housekeeper had carefully unwrapped them earlier in the day. 
They were imported from Beijing, decorated with real gold, and handcrafted. It had cost him nearly forty-thousand dollars for a set of fucking plates and bowls.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
It is repeatedly on a loop in his head, glares at the items on the dinner table like they’re mocking him, and he has no wits about himself before he’s taking one of the beautiful bowls and throwing it against the wall as hard as possible.
I hope you have fun living the rest of your life alone. You may have your money but you’re going to end up alone and it will be all you fucking have.
By the time he’s done, his chest is heaving, and his face is red. 
When reality starts to set back in, every single item from the set is destroyed on the floor, the wall’s paint chipped from where he’d hurled them.
He was so fucked up.
-
Harry couldn’t help but relieve the feelings of that nasty flashback. He couldn’t believe that he had been at that point in his life - not when he had the most all-consuming, amazing in every single way woman laying next to him in his bed.
YN had shown Harry that he had never been broken, he had just been waiting. 
She was his soulmate and he had been waiting for her since forever. He truly believed that as he looked at the girl next to him with enough emotion his heart might burst.
She was just...everything.
YN was so fucking funny - the funniest person Harry had ever met. She was loving in a way that made you feel like you belonged. Compassionate in a way that makes you want to be more selfless yourself. Intelligent enough that it was breathtaking and unreal - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.
She was uncaring of who Harry was - in the most perfect way. 
Money wasn’t a personality trait that she defined him with. She loved him for who he was at the bare basics, stripped away from his public life.
She was confident in a way that girls rarely were. 
Bared face and more beautiful than the highest-paid models. 
Her body was her own, embracing every curve and inch of it without any shame. Let herself be authentic in front of Harry which made him feel like he had won a secret lottery.
Right now, she was fast asleep next to him in bed after stuffing herself full of oreos that she was dunking in milk. She ignored Harry’s looks of disgust at the soggy cookies and munched away happily which made him happy in turn.
She still had a dark crumb on the corner of her puffy lips, her mouth parted just the slightest amount, and her face smushed halfway into the pillow. 
The shirt she had on was so oversized she was swimming in it and a pair of soft pink cheeky underwear.
Currently, she was the farthest thing from graceful and Harry loved that so fucking much. 
As they lay mere days away from their wedding, remembering that nasty flashback, he can’t help but remember their first date and how he had known from them that he had finally found a spark, a connection to another human being.
--
Harry cannot remember the last time he had been nervous. 
Maybe back in his teenage years? If that. 
It was an unsettling feeling that was currently pooling in the pit of his stomach as he changed his outfit for the third time before finally being somewhat satisfied with the suit he had picked out - tighter black jeans, black button-up, black blazer - couldn’t go wrong there. ***
YN had texted him asking what she should wear for their first date when Harry told her he was going to keep it simple and take her to a restaurant.
He had to dress nice, it was an expensive restaurant that he had not taken any other dates to before, it was right outside of London - going towards the countryside with a beautiful view of a meadow and stream.
When he had arrived in front of her apartment, well he had never been on this side of town, and it quite frankly looked like the roof of her building was about to collapse at any minute. It was rough to say the least.
Harry had picked out a car he thought would impress her. He remembered her saying the doors of his Lamborghini were stupid so he picked a car with normal doors this time. It was his new Audi Quattro that had cost him upwards of 170,000 pounds. ***
YN had popped out of the front door, her face didn’t read impressed when she saw the car like he had hoped. It was interesting before YN, he did not care whether or not his dates were impressed by him - now he craved it.
She looked extraordinary in a form fitting silky black dress that hugged every single curve of her body perfectly while accentuating them at the same time. Minimal makeup, loose waves, and simple high heels - it was like a dream that he was taking this girl out on a date. ***
When she slips into the passenger seat, the smell of her floral yet cinnamon perfume makes the car smell heavenly, she looks over at him and says, “You didn’t even come open the door for me. We’re off to a bad start, Harry.”
His heart sinks, fuck - he had been blindsided by her beauty that he wasn’t even being a proper gentleman, “M’so sorry, I wa-”
She chirps out a tender laugh, patting his arm, “You’re face, oh my god. I was just fucking with you.”
Harry’s frown turns into a pout, “S’not nice, pet.”
YN shrugs before a bit self-consciously adjusting the fabric around her midsection, “Erm, I hope this outfit is nice enough? It’s really the only semi-decent thing I own.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, “Y’look absolutely stunning. I can’t even believe y’real to be honest, so fuckin’ pretty.”
YN gives him a shy, unsure smile but he can tell she’s preening at the compliment internally (which she totally is).
The restaurant is one of the nicest in England, let alone London. 
There wasn’t even a menu, they just served eight courses over a few hours time by servers in suits with bowties on. 
YN had never felt more out of place.
As they sat down, Harry was proud that he was able to show off his abilities for a good date, YN was looking around nervously before looking up at the server and saying, “We didn’t get menus yet.”
The man gives her a humorous expression before telling her, “We don’t do menus here, miss. Your date is a regular, I am sure he can fill you in. However, we are starting off with a Cabernet from 2001 imported from Napa, California.”
As he pours the wine into their sparkling glasses, she asks unknowingly, “I don’t really like wine. Is there any way I could get a Coke?”
Harry frowns when the server laughs meanly at her, “Ma’am this isn’t McDonald’s. We do not carry soda. I can provide you with water, if you so wish.”
Harry can’t help but snap at the waiter, “Oi, she’s never been here before. Lay off with the attitude alright?”
“My apologies, Mr. Styles,” He murmurs obediently before finishing the pouring off the whine and retreating from the table.
YN is trying to hide how uncomfortable she is but it is still obvious with how she fidgets in her seat, doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands as she doesn’t even bother to reach towards the wine glass.
“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” Harry murmurs, embarrassment with his failure to impress her with an expensive car and dinner. 
It was falling flat and it was the only thing he knew how to do - flaunt his wealth, everyone else had always been impressed.
“No, it isn’t,” She agrees quietly, fingers folding the edges of the cloth napkin to keep her anxiousness directed somewhere, “I appreciate this, er, dinner. I thought we were going to go somewhere like Mary’s.”
Mary’s was a restaurant that was considered ‘nice’ to the commoners in the city. It was a bit more expensive than a pub and the attire was a bit fancier than if you were going out to a bar. 
For someone like Harry, that was not considered a fancy restaurant. 
However, YN was not him and this was not something that she had ever been accustomed to. He now definitely felt like an idiot.
It’s made even worse when a massive plate is put in front of each of them. 
The plate is huge but the dish is merely one scallop with a lemon sauce and sprinkle of parsley on top. YN can’t even try to hide her confusion at the food.
 “I’ve mucked this date up,” Harry sighs, nearly thirty minutes into the actual date. 
YN had taken a small bite of the scallop before setting down her fork and not touching it again - it tasted like dirty feet. Did rich people like that taste?
She decides not to answer directly, “I already know you have money. It doesn’t ‘wow’ me. I was hoping for a fun date, this is….nice but quite truthfully, not for me. I prefer a pub or bowling - this feels more like a business meeting.”
Harry usually doesn’t have dates that are this honest with him. 
He feels embarrassed but he really did appreciate her honesty. He should have known to do something different than this but he was comfortable with his normal pattern.
“Can we get out of here?” YN asks, placing the napkin back on the table and gathering up her small purse to swing over her shoulder.
He feels defeated as he nods, paying for the meal in full as he accepts that he’s fucked up the date beyond repair by being an arrogant, ignorant asshole who doesn’t truly know how to talk to a girl he likes.
It’s quiet as he starts the car and pulls back onto the road, he startles a bit when YN points to a glowing sign of a golden arch and demands, “Go there.”
With a bit of confusion, Harry pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot and then to the drive-thru as she motions for him to do so. 
God, he hasn’t been to a fast food joint in years now if he was being honest.
When they pull up to the screen, YN leans across and shoots out their food order with ease before sitting back with a smug smile, “We’re going to have a date my way.”
Harry sighs with relief when he realizes the date isn’t over - but really just beginning. They sit and chat in the parking lot. He is thoroughly impressed when YN manages a box of nuggets, a fry, and a milkshake without shame.
Not like she should be shameful - just usually on dates women were hesitant to actually eat and instead picked carefully at their food instead. Their conversation in the car is bright, at some points deep and meaningful, but refreshing. It made him feel young again.
After they finished eating, she’s ordering him to drive a bit further out into the country where he can’t help but make the joke, “Are y’taking me somewhere to kill me?” YN smiles happily with a wide grin, “You’ll just have to wait to see.”
It ends up being a lake. A beautiful body of water that was surrounded by trees that were being reflected into the ripples with the light of the moon. The only sounds were of crickets chirping and the light lapping of the water against the small shore. ***
“I used to come here a lot in the summer in high school,” YN murmurs as Harry takes in the scenery of everything. It had been so long since he had appreciated nature - not the bright clear waters in the tropics but something like this.
“S’beautiful,” Harry replies, can’t help but observe this girl he’s infatuated beauty in the moonlight. 
Her skin looks like it’s glowing, the moon sparkling off the twinkle of her iries, and she just looked...ethereal. Like she belonged in the beauty of the wilderness.
He couldn’t believe his eyes - had to blink harshly a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it when she pulls the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders and shimmy the garment down her body until she’s left in a delicate lace bra and cheeky pair of underwear.
Harry, always the gentleman, keeps his eyes (with effort) on her face. Unsure of what is going on in her mind before she turns around with a little run and dives headfirst into the deep waters before popping back up and giggling, “Jump in!”
She’s just so...carefree, adventurous. Harry hadn’t felt free in fucking years.
It has him shucking out of all of his clothing, just down to his tight black briefs before he’s diving in, right next to her, and feeling around. He wraps his hand around her ankle to teasingly tug her under with him before they both surface.
As they wad in the water, YN swims over to him, and wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck. Her soaking wet hair was dripping and he was breathing heavy, feeling his ribcage expand against her soft tummy.
She murmurs quietly over the light lapping over the water, “You haven’t even looked at me once.”
Harry swallows, feeling like a schoolboy again, “I...I didn’t want to without permission.”
“I want you to look at me,” YN replies, letting her nose nudge his and her eyes searching into his nervous ones. 
He nods, closing his eyes when he feels her lips brush his, letting his large palms grip at her sides and pull her closer to his chest. Their lips not breaking when his hands begin to explore the intricate, plush curves of her body.
They don’t do anything else, don’t go any further but he groaning when she traces her fingertips down his muscular, defined abs and thumb rubbing over the trail of light hair leading into his briefs.
After a swim, filled with splashing and dunking, they retired to lay in the grass. Both of their backs, looking up at the clear night sky, moon full and stars glittering against the stark darkness that surrounds it.
YN wriggle until she’s tucked into his side, hand running up and down his chest, as she says, “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned. I ruined it.”
“Y’didn’t ruin anything. I...I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” Harry admits as he gives off an embarrassed laugh, “I..I’m a little bit scared, to be honest.”
“Scared? Of what?” YN asks, lips pressing against a tattoo on his bare shoulder.
“Because I already am falling for you,” Harry utters, heart racing and his eyes glued upwards and pointedly not wanting to see her interaction.
“That’s a relief.”
His eyebrows shoot up, “A relief?”
“Yeah, I would say. I’m falling too,” YN whispers before leaning up to connect their lips once more as the moon rises further in the sky and the crickets sing a little louder. They lay like that for a very long time.
Harry went home that night for the first time not feeling the empty weight of his loneliness, instead he feel asleep imagining the beautiful, spontaneous girl next to him in his bed.
--
It wasn’t going to be the wedding everyone expected for The Harry Styles. **
There was not many invites set out for this event. It wasn’t the wedding of the century or the most expensive wedding of the decade.
Harry would have let his wife-to-be have this day however she wanted without complaint but could say he was very happy that it was going to a be a low-key event. It was going to be some of YN’s family, though she didn’t have much, and Harry’s extended family. No one from work or business. Just family.
They had just gotten finished with the rehearsal dinner, the couple being ordered to separate rooms for the final night before they were married. It was tradition. 
Harry had walked YN to her hotel room, they were staying at the venue, and pressed her up against the door. His hand coming to weave into her meticulously curled hair and cupping the back of her head, bring her mouth to his.
He wastes no time in letting his tongue find hers, hips coming to press her further back against the aged wood, and his teeth nipping roughly at her plump bottom lip, “Baby, y’gonna be m’wife tomorrow.”
YN’s eyes twinkle up at him like they did during their first date, “I can’t wait. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”
His fiance laughs kindly as he gets a bit watery eyed, her thumb coming to swipe under his eye, she jokes, “Are you regretting proposing now?”
“Just never knew I could be this happy,” He murmurs against her lips, can’t help but reach around to grip a generous amount of her backside and pulling her flush against him where he’s hardening quickly.
“Mm, down boy. You don’t get the goods until tomorrow,” YN scolds, hand wrapping around his wrist and squeaking when he squeezes harder to get the point across - how much he wants her, all the fucking time.
“Want it now, pet,” Harry whines lowly, grinding his hips forward into her, “Give it t’me, y’mouth, y’cun-”
“Alright lovebirds! Separate now!” Gemma barks to interrupt with the laughter of their childhood friend Chloe.
They pull Harry by the back of the shirt and push him forward towards his room, Gemma smiles back at YN, “Make him put a ring on it before you give it to him!”
“Gem!” Harry scolds with a whine, giving his fiance puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip, “Baby, don’t let them take me!”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you!” YN shouts back, waving and smiling to herself as she opens up the door to her room and then locking it after she steps in. It feels weird being in a hotel room without him but she was a bit sweaty and her nerves were wiry so she decided a nice bath would be a good idea.
-
It’s past two in the morning and she was no less ready to find sleep. The worries of whether everything will be set up properly, if she’ll stutter during her vows, there were just so many things that could go wrong.
Life didn’t even seem real at this moment. 
She was marrying her husband at an amazing castle on the coast of italy with family to surround them in love. She had the perfect dress, the perfect flowers, the perfect partner. ***
She had never had it easy. Never thought she would deserve something like this. Harry had made her feel worthy of all this, they deserved to have a happy ever after. 
When it hits three in the morning, she can’t stand the quiet of the italian countryside anymore, and is swinging her legs over the bed. She pockets the keycard Harry gave her earlier in the day in her cotton shorts before sneaking out of her room.
After she taps the card to the sensor, the large oak doorknob clicks, she slips in and closes the door as silently as possible. YN steps in to the room, Harry's asleep in his bed on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.
Harry’s facial expression and body language while he was awake was so severe, serious, intimidating. In sleep, his face was lax and his limbs loose. He looked more boyish when he was dreaming.
YN’s heart aches at how much she loves him, pulling the covers up, and crawling under them until she’s jostling him unintentionally, waking him from his light sleep with a mumble, “Baby, y’okay? Wha’s wrong? Y’alright?”
She giggles at his dazy panic, “I just missed you.”
“Mmm,” Harry agrees, pulling her all the way down and rolling on top of her, “Missed y’more.”
“You’re like a toaster!” YN squeals as he’s encompasses her, laying on her with his weight. His lips finding her pulse point and gently sucking. He was barely awake and he still couldn’t stop himself from her finding comfort in her body.
“I’m warmin’ y’up,” Harry growls against her neck before giving her a lick which has her giggling even more and pushing him off until he falls on his back and she’s swing her legs over his waist, straddling him.
“Y’breakin’ the tradition, m’heart.”
YN shrugs, humming while he palms at her belly, and she (much to his disappointment) ignores where he’s hard and waiting for her.
“I want t’sleep with you,” She pleas sheepishly, leaning all the way over to connect their lips in a quickie peck before she’s moving off of him and into his side.
“Never say no to you, y’know that, dovie,” Harry replies as if it’s obvious (it is).
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” YN whispers into the dark, like it’s a secret just between the two.
Harry nuzzles his nose against her temple, “Never wanted anythin’ more than I want you.”
YN can’t help but sniffle softly, overwhelmed with emotion and love, “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”
“You saved me. You saved me from myself, from where I was going. You gave me hope, feeling again. Y’are m’heart, it fuckin’ beats for you.”
It may not be tradition but YN wouldn’t of had it any other way, sleeping in a magnificent castle on the ethereal coast of Italy in a classic hotel room, and the excitement of their wedding rumbling in both of their stomachs.
--
“You sneaky bastards!” Bethany screeches, door flinging open with Gemma in tow as they intrude into Harry’s room - finding the couple curled up under the covers with Harry spooning YN with his face tucked into her hair.
“Fuck off,” Harry groans, pulling his fiance closer into his chest as she wriggles awake and whimpers lowly, “Mornin’ lovie.”
“Out out!” Gemma shoos, pulling the covers off of them and the sisters showing no mercy while they yank YN out of the bed and titter about how she needs to start getting ready, no time for cuddles, breaking traditions.
“Bring her back!” He whines childishly, hurling a pillow at his sister’s retreating back as they guide YN back to her own room.
“You’ll see her in a few hours!” Gemma shouts back before slamming the hotel room door and leaving Harry to doze off for just a few more minutes.
-
Hair and makeup went fast. 
It was getting closer and closer to actually walking down the aisle towards her soon-to-be life partner and she’s never felt more nervous.
Rosemary and Bethany were all rushing around - attempting to get ready in the midst of getting the bride ready.
YN didn’t want to look like a doll or have any intense makeup. It was a soft champagne smokey eye with dewy skin and a glowing highlight. A nice lip with a bit of glittering gloss.
Her hair was in big, loose curls that cascaded down her back with the front pulled off of her face. A real white flower holding it back.
Then it was the dress. She was anxious about whether Harry would like it or not. She wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to wear - a massive ball gown, a form-fitting mermaid, or something less over-the-top?
It was a show-stopper that had her memorized when she had first seen it - could automatically imagined herself getting married in Italy with this on her body.
It was also one of the only times she didn’t even care about the price tag - she knew this was it. Yes, it was absurd to spend fifty thousand pounds on a dress but it was the one time she took advantage of Harry’s wealth.
It was flowy, reminding her of the soft waves that lapped at the coast of the italian beaches. It was sophisticated, classy with a sharp starch white that billowed into a dreamlike beauty.
What had made her fall in love was the sheer, detailed sleeves that gave the dress more of a vintage, glamour appearance than the modern tight-fit, overly sexy gowns that most brides wore nowawadays. ***
The train was long and sleek. It would trail beautifully down the aisle before being bustled for the reception. It made her feel confident in a way that an item of clothing next had made her feel before.
“Your tits look amazing,” Bethany compliments before giggling when their grandmum pinches her arm for her crude language.
YN couldn’t find it in her to laugh. She felt like her voice was stuck in her throat and it wasn’t moving. 
It started to feel real.
The fact that Harry had proposed, had planned a wedding with her, that he was agreeing to marrying her today.
It was starting to scare her - no, not cold feet but anxiety that he would realize that he could do better than the lowly waitress.
Now, on a normal day, she wouldn’t be having these irrational thoughts. Today was different and it felt too good to be true.
Rosemary and Bethany sense the tension in the room, rub her shoulders, and respect her wishes when she asked for a moment alone.
YN debates picking up her phone, knowing he was busy with his bigger side of the family in the groom’s suite.
She finds herself picking up her mobile, dialing his number, and waiting with bated breath for his syrupy, warm voice to pour through the speaker.
“Everythin’ okay?” He answers, she can hear Anne and Gemma tittering about in the background, yelling at him to get a move on.
“I’m scared,” YN whispers, she holds back her tears because the last thing she wanted to do was ruin her meticulous makeup.
“Leavin’ me at the altar?” Harry jokes lowly, stepping away from prying ears.
YN giggles at his teasing tone, “Never. I…I feel like this is all too good to be true. Like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up.”
Harry huffs, “Sweetheart. Y’my soulmate, if y’wake up - I’m right there with you, okay? God, if anyone is dreamin’ it’s me. I get t’marry the most beautiful, intelligent -“
Gemma’s voice interrupts him, “You already seduced her into marrying you! We don’t have time for this sweet talk!”
The line goes dead but YN feels much better now.
Rosemary was going to be the one walking her down the aisle to her new husband. It didn’t feel right to have anyone else do it as she was the one who raised her into the strong, independent woman she was today.
YN knew she wanted to have an outside wedding. 
What would be more perfect than a cool evening in Italy? It was what she had dreamed about since she was little without the idea that it would ever happen.
The weather was absolutely perfect. There was a slight warm breeze that would keep the guests from being overheated, the sun was peeking in and out of vibrant white clouds that complimented the blue sky.
She knew exactly where Harry would be standing. 
Underneath a beautiful, dated archway with intricate designs about. 
The old material had lovingly grown luscious ivy that kissed the walls in a swirling, natural design. 
YN would never forget how beautiful that ivy had looked on her wedding day, encompassing the magnificent that was her soon-to-be husband.***
The venue was open, airy but still gave off an intimacy. There weren't many rows of chairs because not many were invited to share in such an ethereal experience where soulmates have found each other and were announcing their commitment to the world.
“Are you ready, my daughter?” Her grandmother had asked quietly as they lined up behind the expansive, old brick wall that hides them from the rest of the ceremony and crowd. She could hear the whispering as people took their seats.
YN nods, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate as she imagines Harry just as nervous on the opposite side with his family. 
When the twinkling, traditional music begins from the small orchestra off to the side - the realization hits her - it is actually happening, right now.
Bethany puts her bouquet in front of her, giving one last meaningful smile at her sister before she takes her cue to turn the corner and begins her walk down the aisle. 
It meant Harry was up there, watching as she was about to appear.
Then the orchestra’s melody became louder, more grand in the signaling for the guests to stand and turned toward the back of the room - awaiting the bride’s entrance to the ceremony. 
Rosemary takes the initiative to hook their arms and guide her past the wall.
YN clutches onto her own flowers as if it’s her lifeline. ***
Every fear, insecurity, moment of self-doubt dissipates when her eyes connect to Harry’s. There is no longer a doubt in her mind that she wasn’t enough. It was a deep, unbreakable stare as Harry’s mouth parts in a gasp of awe.
He was in a suit that was undeniably him. It displayed how fucking regal he was, how it looked like he was handcrafted into the italian design, how it fit him just perfectly.
It wasn’t a normal tuxedo. It was a perfectly tailored, custom (of course) Gucci suit that excentuate his broad shoulders and the nip of his narrow hips *** ***. 
YN can’t even hear the noise of the guests - whispering about how beautiful she looks.
All she can see is her future husband, who swallows harshly as an unexpected sob wracks through his chest at the sight of his bride.
The guests can’t help but look with wide eyes as the man they know - who they’ve barely ever seen smile, let alone cry, cannot control his emotions.
Gemma, who was his ‘best man’ which they deemed ‘best woman’, rubs his back soothingly with a watery smile herself at seeing her brother so estastatic as he looks at the woman of his dreams.
Harry rubs his eyes before meeting hers again.
YN is holding back her own tears as she reaches the end of the aisle.
In tradition as old as time, Harry steps forward and Rosemary passes her hand over to him in a signal that she trusts him to take care of the girl she’s spent meticulous time raising and cultivating into the person she is today.
“I trust you to take care of my girl, she is now yours,” Rosemary tells Harry, her tone is calm and full of emotion as she allows Harry to lean over to kiss her cheek softly.
Harry nods, his usually stable voice shaky as he replies, “I promise, I’ll take care of her until the day I die.”
Rosemary nods before patting his cheek and finding her seat in the audience.
When they are finally standing face-to-face, YN reaches over to thumb off a stray tear that was sliding down his cheek before he turns his head to kiss her thumb then kissing her palm. 
Harry didn’t even acknowledge that there was anyone else watching - it was just him and her.
“Y’look breathtaking, can’t believe y’mine,” Harry murmurs trembling, his chest moving faster than usual and it felt like it was nearly impossible for him to catch his breath as he looked at the woman in front of him.
When it comes to the vows, Bethany hands over her small piece of paper that she had scribbled onto and scratched out multiple times - never quite able to get the wording just right and she says just that.
“I couldn’t find the right words to explain my love for you,” She starts, voice raspy as she looks up to see Harry watching her raptly, eyes intense and only focused on her.
“And maybe there aren’t even words to explain it because nothing felt like enough. It is how I feel a lot of the time with you. I’ll never have enough of you because you’re all-consuming to me. I have never felt happiness like I have with you.”
YN is trying to stifle her tears as she continues, Harry reaches out to rub her arm in reassurance then he lightly brushes over the new necklace he had gifted her, “You’re by far the most complex, closed-off person I have ever met. I feel like you’ve allowed me to crack the code and once I did, I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve cracked my own code, you see.”
“The code to explaining my feelings for you will come with my dedication, love, loyalty to be your wife for the rest of our lives.”
Harry can’t help what he does next despite it not falling in line at the ceremony.
His hands come up to cup her jaw and he sears his lips to hers, kissing her with all the passion and emotion he cannot seem to keep in any longer. It’s too much, has to show her in that moment how much he loves her.
A few of his uncles whistle from the crowd as their wives smack their chests in warning.
YN giggles, returning the kiss before pushing him off. 
The look in his eyes is one she knows extremely well - it sends shivers down her spine and makes her hair stand on end -, the stare down of lust and want.
“Mr. Styles,” The officiant redirects, nodding towards the piece of paper he has in his hand.
“Yeah, sorry,” Harry mumbles, unraveling the wrinkled notecard he had tucked in his inner suit pocket.
“I knew I was in love with you the moment you spilled that drink on me and undressed me in that dodgy employee bathroom,” Harry says with full sincerity, smirking at YN’s blush when he brings up the way they met.
“I tried to talk myself out of it. It was impossible to fall in love in mere minutes of meeting someone but it was the truth. I knew after our first date that I wanted y’to be m’wife. I knew after the second that I wanted y’to be the mother of my babies one day. And by the third date, I was planning on buying you a ring.”
“It sounds insane because it is. I’ve never been an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment, hopeful person before you. You made me throw all that out of the window, you make me feel alive, and when I tell you that you saved me. You saved me, m’love.”
“There is a lot of uncertainty in this world but I can tell you one thing that is absolutely fuckin’ certain -”
“Harry,” YN hisses with an eye-roll at his crude language.
“The one thing that is absolutely certain in this world is that I will always love you, always take care of you, and always do everythin’ in m’power to make you happy.”
The guests in the chairs are quite speechless. 
They’d never heard such passionate, meaningful vows from a couple. 
This was not what they were expecting of Harry who had never once put his heart on his sleeve and right now he’d laid it all out on the table.
--
“YN LN, do you agree to take Harry Edward Styles as your husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant asks, voice ringing against the walls of the castle.
YN has to take a big breath before she replies in a strong, firm voice as her eyes bore into Harry’s, “I do.”
“Harry Edward Styles, do you agree to take YN MN LN as your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, until the end of your time on earth?” The officiant repeats.
Harry, in ever typical fashion, in his loud, booming voice replies, “Of course I fuckin’ do.”
The guests in the audience laugh lightly as the officiant states, “I now announce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Styles. You may now kiss your bride.”
It doesn’t take more than a second for Harry to step forward, grip her face and pull her in for a kiss, it doesn’t matter that their family is there to him as he licks into her mouth which is bordering on obscene before YN brings it back to a softer, more appropriate one.
He whispers against his lips, barely audible, “Can’t believe y’my fucking wife, m’fucking heart.”
--
As people are moving towards the reception area, Harry manages to find a secluded area of the outside gardens where there is no one in sight.
“Baby, baby, y’married me,” Harry is nearly chanting, like he’s in disbelief, at the same time he’s cornering his new bride up against the brick wall with his mouth trailing sloppy wet kisses down her shoulder.
“Mmm, it was everything I ever imagined, it was so beautiful. Everything I had imagined for our day,” YN replies blissfully, hands running carefully through his meticulously styled hair.
When he bends down and lifts up the bottom of her dress, she giggles when he ducks his head underneath all the tulle and fabric, finding a very skimpy pair of white lace panties that are supposed to be saved for later.
“Harry,” YN scolds half-heartedly, it would only take one person to find them in this undeniable inappropriate situation but she willingly let him push her further against the brick and take one of her legs over his shoulder.
“Baby, these fuckin’ panties,” He groans, muffled by the barrier of the heavy fabric, and she hisses when pulls them down to the thick of her thighs and his mouths finds her center within moments.
“Fu-fuck,” She hisses, trying to keep her moans down as he wastes no time in pushing in two thick fingers to curve towards her front as his tongue laps quickly and sloppily on her clit until it feels like she’s about to explode.
“S’right, fuckin’ m’cunt. I have it f’the rest of my life, found the best one,” Harry mutters against her wet skin, almost to himself like he can’t even believe the words, before he’s back to speeding up his fingers to match the rhythm of his mouth until she’s quivering for a whole other reason now.
It takes a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down enough to be able to go into the reception, he tells YN that he can’t even look at her right now because if he does he’ll be perpetually hard throughout the whole thing.
--
The reception is more of a dinner than a party. 
Fairy lights strung above the two long tables where decadent, mouth-watering food was served with the orchestra playing light, melodic music in the background. ***
It was perfect. 
Their family drank, laughed, ate, and were merry. 
Everyone was basking in each other’s company, congratulating the new couple, and enjoying all the beauty that was surrounding them at the castle. 
There is not much more to say than that. 
--
The honeymoon suite was located on one of the highest floors of the castle, away from all of the other wedding guests and staff.
YN was sure it was beautiful but from the moment she was carried over the threshold, she didn’t see anything but her new husband - he was blinding in his beauty. His skin was glowing, a slight sheen of sweat from the reception, and the still warm bite in the breeze. ***
“Sweetheart, baby. Please let m’undress you, y’my wife,” Harry pleas softly, his hands are everywhere - her face, her shoulders, hips - continuously wandering as if it’s impossible to find one place to settle.
“Please, c’mon. I need you, H,” She agrees, letting him take down the zipper on the side of her gown.
The expensive garment discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric as he fully takes in her lingerie set. ***
“Fuck me, darlin’,” Harry chuckles in amazement, fingertips tracing over the delicate lace that was stitched by Alessandro Michele himself for the bride, "Y’body is a god damn dream, look at you. - fuck.”
“Please,” His wife whimpers, voice desperate as his light and careful touches are no longer enough. 
She needs him close, she needs her husband.
“Okay, okay,” He simpers, moving her back until he can have her right where he wants her, on her back in the middle of the massive, blanket-ridden bed - her white lingerie standing out against the dark duvet.
Harry had always imagined this night. 
To have someone laid out underneath him. 
No rush, no urgency but to truly, physically show that person through touch that you love them.
He starts near her collarbone, feathery heated kisses that warm her skin as she welcomes him with heavy weight on top of her so eager he wasn’t even undressed yet.
When his mouth finds her nipples through the sheer fabric, she pushes her chest up in encouragement as he bites at the nubs with sharp but careful teeth that wet the fabric.
“It feels so good, baby,” YN mewls, letting him nip and suck for a moment before pushing him up until he’s rid of every inch of fabric that had been covering his body.
“M’always gonna make y’feel good. I’ll fuck you wherever, wehenver cause you’re m’wife,” Harry grunts, impatiently reaching behind to unclasp the corset until her breasts spill free and jiggle in a way that makes his mouth water.
“Wait, wait,” YN puts a hand to his cheek when he already has his mouth darting out to lap at her hardened nipple.
“Don’t make me wait, m’heart,” Harry grumbles with a furrowed brow, his hand still unable to stop from reaching up to palm at her full breasts, thumbs rolling the nipples as he stares fiercely up at her.
“You know how you got me a present?” YN murmurs, biting back a whimper when a zip of electricity shoots from her nipple down to where she’s already dripping for him, “I got you something too.”
Harry’s face relaxes, it’s like he finds his grounding again, “Baby, didn’t need t’get me anythin’. Y’the best fuckin’ gift I could have gotten. Does look beautiful sittin’ between y’tits though.”
His new wife giggles, “Well I really hope you like mine….it’s non-refundable.”
He looks at her with confusion even more so when she wriggles down her panties and flips on her belly with her arms resting under chin.
Of course, Harry finds it immediately and she can tell by the deep, pleased growl he emits from the back of his throat, “You fuckin’ didn’t.”
“I did.”
It was his name, small and cursive right on her bum cheek. 
After they got engaged, he went out and got her name tattooed on his pec - much to her dismay. 
She had never talked about returning the favor and had kept it the ultimate surprise.
“I think I almost just came from this,” Harry rasps, his fingers tracing the small ink over and over in awe, “Baby, y’put m’name on your bum. It makes y’look like my property, sweetheart.”
“I am yours,” YN giggles, yelping when she feels his teeth graze the sensitive skin before he’s suckling and licking at his name - can’t take his eyes off the beauty of her.
“Yeah, you fuckin’ are,” He agrees whole-heartedly, his hands calming to cup and palm at her cheeks as he fawns over his wedding present, “This is the best present I’d ever fuckin’ received, fuck - never goin’ to get over this.”
He doesn’t want to look away from the tattoo but knows how he wants to fuck his wife for the first time so he flips her onto her back once again, lips finding hers. 
She whispers, hand wrapping around his cock, “Still have to pay you back for earlier.”
“No blowies tonight, pet. We’re goin’ to do it the right way, m’gonna make love to you,” Harry murmurs, his lips finding hers as he bats her hand away to grasp at his thick base. He teases the sensitive head over her clit and entrance a few times before slowly sinking in.
“Ohh, been ready for you all day. You looked like a fucking wet dream standing at the alter, waiting for me,” YN sighs happily, wriggling her hips to adjust a bit before she spreads her legs and lets Harry rest in between them, “Ever since I saw you in the suit, I’ve been waiting.”
“Yeah, baby? I can tell, y’so wet, warm f’me,” Harry praises, his movements are slow and unrushed, their hips meeting gently as he pushes in each time with care, “Can’t believe y’gonna let me have this for the rest of m’life.”
“I love you so so much,” She utters breathlessly as he continues to make her feel so fucking full - emotionally and physically, “Best husband ever, can’t believe it.”
Harry chuckles tenderly, “Baby, I need y’to come soon. I’m so close, never come this quick. The thought of y’being my wife is making it impossible to last then with the tatto-”
YN soothes his hair in understanding, pushing up to meet their lips and allow their tongues to dance as he lifts her thigh against his hip to thrust in with a bit more force. His thumb comes to her clit to spur her along which doesn’t take much with how aroused she’s been all day.
Harry follows right after, much to his embarrassment of his lack of stamina but can you blame him? He has the hottest fucking wife on the planet.
“Round two?” YN smirks as he leans down to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. She knows the night has just begun.
“Mmm,” He agrees instantly, “Now that we made love, m’gonna fuck y’from behind so I can watch my name jiggle on your arse.”
And that’s what he does. It takes nearly no rebound time, flips her on her belly again to gaze and worship his name as he fills out in no time again. His fingers occasionally dip back between her thighs to tease at her entrance before he swipes her own wetness on the tattoo to lick it off.
She’s tired, exhausted from the events of the day but wants to reach that last orgasm before sleep overtakes them. 
On her hands and knees, Harry doesn’t pound into her like he normally would. 
Instead, he eases back in with eyes darting between his wedding present and where they’re connecting, his thumb diligently rubbing hard and steady circle on her nerves.
“C’mon wifey, need y’to not be stubborn,” Harry goads, feeling his release coming again - he pinches her clit with just enough pressure that has her whining before Harry has to hold her up by the waist as she quivers.
It has him finishing right after with a gentle smack to her bumcheek, the skin already tender and sore from all of his attention on the spot as it was.
“I loved your vows,” YN murmurs against his chest. He had wrapped her up in one of the plush blankets and he had pulled on a tight pair of briefs and they were laying on a lounge chair on the blacony under the italian stars.
“I loved yours just as much, y’did crack the code m’love ‘cause now I’m yours forever,” Harry rumbles, his voice raspy with drowsiness.
Little did they know that in a few short years, they would be back under these italian stars with knowledge that they were growing a little product of their love in her belly.
A litte baby named Ivy, just like the beautiful, lucious nature that had decorated the place in magneificent as they spoke vows - dedicating their lives to each other.
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deepdarkdelights · 3 years
Text
Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)
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Pairing: Namjoon x Reader
Word Count: 13.3k
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors 
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 
Preview:  You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 
You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 
A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜
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You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands. 
You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day. 
You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after. 
All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch. 
Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often. 
If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open. 
“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning. 
You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure. 
“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips. 
“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”
But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes. 
Fuck, and now you were crying again. 
You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you. 
It was time to start celebrating then. 
You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better. 
You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic. 
You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection. 
You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall. 
Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose. 
You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You  twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.
You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again. 
~~~~~~~
When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up. 
And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead. 
You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway. 
Someone was in the house. 
You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds. 
When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger. 
You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand. 
Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall. 
A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century. 
The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths. 
Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress. 
“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”
“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”
“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back. 
“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed. 
“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.
In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler. 
“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”
You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words. 
“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.” 
You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen. 
“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp. 
He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”
“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”
The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”
And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line. 
But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?
And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees. 
You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place. 
“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.
Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?
You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing. 
You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on. 
So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it. 
The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago. 
The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure. 
In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight. 
It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area. 
The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come. 
And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well? 
But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work. 
If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours. 
By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself. 
But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more. 
You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.  
You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead. 
While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him. 
“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”
“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone. 
“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”
“I’m sorry miss, but -”
“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside. 
“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door. 
“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.” 
“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club. 
Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him. 
He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you. 
With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest. 
Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him. 
His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare. 
“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before. 
Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night. 
“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!
“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day. 
The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help. 
“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider. 
You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you. 
Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.
“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you. 
“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were. 
“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?” 
“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”
“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically. 
“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused. 
“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated. 
“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before. 
No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now. 
And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era. 
“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt. 
“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question. 
“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you. 
You were having a stressful day.
~~~~~~~
When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state. 
But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest. 
You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone. 
“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you. 
It was him again, the man with the dimples. 
“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you. 
You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone. 
“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident. 
“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside. 
“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people. 
“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up. 
The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response. 
“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.
“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation. 
“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream. 
“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows. 
“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”
“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!” 
“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”
He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force. 
“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment. 
“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.
You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung. 
“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”
“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins. 
“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained. 
Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims. 
That was too close of a call for you. 
“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim. 
“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.
“You’re an officer, then?” You asked. 
He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”
Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted. 
“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease. 
Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”
“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.  
“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.
“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back. 
“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door. 
“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut. 
As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.
So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.
As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.
Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.
She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.
"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.
"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.
"Well, to dress you of course."
Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.
"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."
"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.
Fuck.
"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.
You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months. 
You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment. 
She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”
Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”
“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”
“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.” 
“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”
“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway. 
The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master. 
The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content. 
Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study. 
“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted. 
You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room. 
Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk. 
Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you. 
“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading. 
“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”
Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain. 
He made you uncomfortable. 
“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin. 
“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”
“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head. 
“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have. 
“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine. 
“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.” 
You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes. 
Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest. 
His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?” 
“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right. 
“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh. 
“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?” 
“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent. 
That could have been you. 
“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him. 
“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”
“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.
“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”
That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”
“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”
“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head. 
“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on  its surface. 
“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest. 
“Interested?” He echoed.
“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”
“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?” 
“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”
You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 
You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 
“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him. 
The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on. 
A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin. 
“We have a deal.” He confirmed. 
“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”
“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger. 
That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer. 
“And what will we do in the meantime?” 
“Well investigate, of course.”
~~~~~~~
Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End. 
You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were. 
You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void. 
You assumed. 
Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself. 
And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of. 
He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped. 
And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire. 
The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning. 
Usually. 
Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark. 
At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down. 
It was the call of your name that made you freeze. 
Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you. 
“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand. 
“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”
“Two more women are dead.”
Silence. 
“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp. 
“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect. 
The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault. 
No matter what you do, someone will die. 
“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed. 
“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’ 
“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet. 
You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you. 
He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”
“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”
His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.” 
“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.” 
Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow. 
“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”
He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him. 
“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time. 
“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”
So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details. 
“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm. 
And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one. 
You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin. 
For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study. 
He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you. 
Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?
You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds. 
Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?
Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”
That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind. 
“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”
He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief. 
He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left. 
~~~~~~~
You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had. 
The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place. 
Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth. 
“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you. 
You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble. 
“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides. 
“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained. 
“Alright, what can I do?” 
“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area. 
“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared. 
Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?” 
Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often. 
He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way. 
“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise. 
Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it. 
You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said. 
The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing. 
And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air. 
But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent. 
“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”
Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak. 
It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined. 
There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying. 
Namjoon was calling your name. 
You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him. 
“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 
“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. 
“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you. 
You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket. 
You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him. 
“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying. 
You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you. 
There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon. 
~~~~~~~
Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before. 
Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place. 
A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”
He was playing with them. 
Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage. 
Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster. 
And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster. 
This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you. 
You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once. 
You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be). 
At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open. 
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin. 
“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist. 
“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.” 
“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes. 
Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.” 
“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot. 
Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.
As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.” 
Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”
“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. 
You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions. 
Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”
You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation. 
You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.” 
A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. 
“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind. 
And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough. 
Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession. 
Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall. 
“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless. 
You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position. 
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone. 
“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.
You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was. 
You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all. 
“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback. 
It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you. 
“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook. 
Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him. 
All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own. 
They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish. 
“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?” 
“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom. 
“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”
“Two of us?” You echoed. 
“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up. 
“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”
“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”
“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”
“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?” 
“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”
His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”
But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all. 
You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?
All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End. 
You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night. 
You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake. 
Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out. 
It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that. 
Oh, if only you did. 
The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up. 
Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified. 
A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone. 
You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.
And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you. 
“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse. 
Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley. 
Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips. 
“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”
“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form. 
“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.” 
You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest. 
“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered. 
“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch. 
“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”
A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face. 
Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.
The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open. 
“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly. 
“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand. 
But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness. 
The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side. 
“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.” 
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softboywriting · 3 years
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Meet The Parents | Billy Russo
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Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]
 Word Count: 3.8k 
 A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.
---
The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.
"Hey sweetheart."
You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.
"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"
"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."
"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"
Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."
You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"
"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"
"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"
"She tried. Even sat on my lap."
"In front of her dad?"
"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."
You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."
He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."
"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."
Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.
You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."
"Bullshit."
"Your bullshit."
Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.
"C'mere."
"No, Billy."
"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."
"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."
"Always such a good girl."
"You like it."
"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."  
"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."
"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"
"Yeah."
"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"
You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.
"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."
"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."
"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."
You smile innocently. "See you later."
"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."
"Love you too Billy."
"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."
"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"
"Being you."
"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.
_____________________
"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."
Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."
"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.
Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.
"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.
Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."
"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."
"Gotcha."
"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."
Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.
Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"
Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."
The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"
"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."
"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."
Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."
"Well you know I-"
"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."
"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.
"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."
"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"
Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."
"Your fault."
"Usually is."
____________________
You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.
Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.
It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.
The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.
It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.
The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"
"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."
"I'm sorry."
Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."
"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."
"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"
You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."
Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.
"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."
You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."
"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."
"You know it's a little true."
His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."
"It is."
"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."
You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"
"Mmhmm."
He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."
"I know."
"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"
"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"
Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"
You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.
"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."
"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."
"T-thanks."
Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."
"If you can get a word in."
"I have my ways. Don't worry."
You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"
"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.
Your parents are still bickering.
"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.
"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.
Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."
"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.
"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.
You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"
Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."
Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"
"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."
"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.
"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."
Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."
You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."
"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."
"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.
Dad raises his eyebrows.
"Dad, don't start."
Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"
"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."
You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."
"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."
"Mom!"
"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."
"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"
"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."
You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.
"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.
"I'm s-"
"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.
"Thanks."
"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"
You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"
"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."
"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."
Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"
"I think I already have it."
He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."
_____________________
Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.
You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.
The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.
"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.
You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.
"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.
Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"
"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."
"Your parents?"
"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."
"Grab me a bottle?"
"Sure."
You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.
Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.
"Hey."
You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.
"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."
"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.
"Are you alright?"
"Mmm."
You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."
"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."
"Oh."
"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.
You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.
"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."
The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.
"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."
Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."
"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."
"For what?"
"Being here when I had a nightmare."
"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."
"Me too."
"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."
"Love you too."
_____________________
*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****
Header image by delicate-venus
Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A
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titan-fodder · 3 years
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Prima Vista Part VII
[ previous ]
Rating: E (explicit; mdni)
Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)
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It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.
 It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk. 
 “Erwin here?”
 The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”
 Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”
 Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead. 
 He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”
 “What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy. 
 You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different. 
 “I needed to talk to you about something.”
 Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”
 You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”
 He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?” 
 “Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”
 He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”
 “You can shut it then.”
 Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you. 
 “Why haven’t you been talking to him?”
 Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!” 
 Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”
 “And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”
 Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”
 You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping. 
 “That motherfucker,” he grunts.
 “What?”
 “You blocked his number.”
 “What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”
 He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”
 Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.
 “Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”
 “My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.
 You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.
 If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.
 Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list. 
 “Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal. 
 “Have what?”
 “Tinder.”
 “What are you talking about?”
 Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”
 That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced. 
 Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself. 
 “Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”
 Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”
 “Probably.”
 “Might be a little difficult now, though.”
 Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”
 Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”
 You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”
 Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”
 You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.
 But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process. 
 “It, uh… It gets worse.”
 Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”
 Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry. 
 “I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”
 Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling. 
 Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her. 
 “Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”
 Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”
 You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest. 
 There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him. 
 “Come on.”
 “W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”
 “I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."
 You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person. 
 “Fine, but put a shirt on.”
 “Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”
 You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.
 You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand. 
 “We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze. 
 It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.
*
 Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous. 
 He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy. 
 "Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand. 
 "Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."
 You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."
 "I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable. 
 "Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."
 "I'll be there, Nile."
 "Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."
 Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth. 
 "So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back. 
 "Don't fucking tell me."
 Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."
 "She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good. 
 "Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."
 "How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"
 "Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."
 "Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."
 "Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."
 "I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."
 "Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?" 
 "Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever." 
 It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it. 
 "Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."
 "I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"
 "As a distraction?" 
 Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?" 
 The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party." 
 It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house. 
 Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight. 
 Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on. 
 When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party. 
 Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him. 
 So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this? 
 And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink. 
 Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit. 
 She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?" 
 No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight. 
 They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism. 
 They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin. 
 Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you. 
 Oh, you don't like her. 
 "Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?" 
 Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."
 "Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"
 "Kind of?" You try. 
 Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?" 
 Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible. 
 Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"
 Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe. 
 "Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"
 "Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."
 "I don't think that's really—"
 "Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd. 
 "What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits. 
 "You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes. 
 "Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out. 
 For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands. 
 He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you. 
 "The fuck do you want, Jaeger?" 
 "Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?" 
 Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt. 
 "Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back. 
 "He's not worth it, Mike."
 Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.
 He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and  the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights. 
 He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead. 
 It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him. 
 He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger. 
 You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now. 
 So he drinks. 
 He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—
 Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch. 
 "What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?" 
 Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him. 
 "I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"
 "I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!" 
 Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in. 
 "What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?" 
 "No!" 
 "Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.
 He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms. 
 "Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head. 
 Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?" 
 Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."
 "Are you serious?" 
 Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile. 
 "I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!" 
 Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again. 
 "Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks. 
 "Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"
 "Including you."
 Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him. 
 "Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?" 
 "Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests. 
 Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty). 
 Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak. 
 "What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"
 Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice. 
 "It's just Adderall, I swear!"
 Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren. 
 "Get the fuck out before I call the cops."
 He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up. 
 Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen. 
 "They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile. 
 "Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"
 "Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."
 Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time. 
 Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way. 
 "Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back. 
 It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause. 
 "Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink. 
 He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind. 
 It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets. 
 He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts. 
 Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.
 *
 "God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in. 
 Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels. 
 A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again. 
 "Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."
 "No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"
 You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction. 
 "Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again. 
 "The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?" 
 "Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—
 "Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic. 
 "I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him. 
 Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."
 "He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker. 
 You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).
 "Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."
 "Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss. 
 He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand. 
 Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."
 You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."
 "What? No."
 "There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out." 
 Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea. 
 "Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."
 "So?" 
 "Erwin."
 He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?" 
 "Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.
 "Text me if you need help, alright?" 
 "You got it, boss."
 He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.
 His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning. 
 How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass. 
 It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh. 
 People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place. 
 Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way. 
 More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of. 
 Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three. 
 Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep. 
 Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest. 
 After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it. 
 You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex. 
 You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).
 It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long. 
 Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."
 "Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."
 "Nooo. No Miche."
 "Yes, Miche," you laugh. 
 He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again. 
 When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."
 You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again. 
 "Okay. Just Mike then."
 He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again. 
 "You're a needy drunk, you know that?" 
 Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again. 
 "Sleep now," he mumbles. 
 "No, no sleep now."
 "Sleep now."
 "Oh my fucking god."
 His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water. 
 He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday. 
 Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self. 
 So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid. 
 He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much. 
 "President… dumb boyyy."
 "Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"
 "Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr." 
 There's really no pleasing him. 
 "Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."
 "Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."
 You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you. 
 "You're fucking ridiculous."
 Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub. 
 "Jesus Christ, Mike."
 He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower. 
 "Water, pleeeease."
 He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them. 
 "No, dude. I am not letting you drown."
 Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle. 
 "Yeah, okay, I guess that works."
 The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.
 So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist. 
 He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."
 Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright. 
 "ευχαριστώ."
 "Come again?"
 "Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward. 
 You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways. 
 Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze. 
 "You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time. 
 "Dunno."
 "Can you tell who I am?" 
 Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"
 "Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.
 "That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun. 
 He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress. 
 Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel. 
 Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands. 
 "Can I help you?" 
 He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you. 
 "Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh. 
 Switching tactics, he pats his chest. 
 "Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."
 Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…
 Not like this. 
 "Please. No more vom. Promise."
 "I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."
 He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants. 
 A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth. 
 This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin. 
 Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks. 
 "'m mad at you."
 Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting. 
 "I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."
 Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep. 
 "Still love you."
 You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason. 
 "I love you too, Miche."
 Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake. 
 You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?" 
 "Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub. 
 Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."
 "What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?" 
 He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!" 
 "You're disgusting."
 "Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"
 God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint. 
 "Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep. 
 "Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off. 
 "We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.
 Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."
 You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."
 It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day. 
 "Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub. 
 "He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts. 
 "Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add. 
 Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing. 
 "We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile. 
 "Probably."
 Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious. 
 It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look. 
 You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy. 
 There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him. 
 "'m still wet."
 "You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."
 "Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"
 "Know how it works, dumb… butt."
 "Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."
 "Don't panotrize me!" 
 You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."
 "That's what I said!" 
 It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard. 
 He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."
 "All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?" 
 "Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."
 "Why?" 
 "I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."
 "Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair. 
 It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot. 
 He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours. 
 A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest. 
 Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed. 
 Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it. 
 You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.
 The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.
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Long Gone - Bucky Barnes x Reader
After weeks of a strained relationship, one fight and a surprise is enough for Y/N to run away and not look back.
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be long gone. Don’t look for me, you won’t find anything.
You suck in a deep breath and tuck the note into the door. No turning back now.
Sure, you and Buck had your ups and downs but last night was different.
You were dealing with a depressive episode when he came home to the compound. You tried not to bother him with your sour feelings and it worked. He didn’t notice, though you weren’t sure how he could have when he didn’t wander in until well past midnight and smelt like cheap rum.
Then he had the nerve to try and crawl into your bed without a word.
“Are you joking?” You finally muttered.
“What?”
“Are you that drunk or just that clueless?” You demanded. “You left a shitty note about going to check out a terrorist threat and then ignored my texts all day. And then followed it with a trip to the bar before letting you fiancée know you’re alive? I’ve been worried sick for hours!”
He stopped pulling on the covers and rolled his eyes, “Sorry I didn't text you back, doll. I was busy saving the world. And who cares if I went for a drink?”
You knew it sounded like an over reaction but it went much deeper than that. You’d been having panic attacks left and right the past weeks over his job and he knew that. He had sat on the floor with you in his arms and assured you he’d check in when possible. Told you how he’d call you after every fight to tell you he was okay. You came to find there was no substance behind his words. They were just sweet nothings to calm you down.
“Why would Steve be returning my calls before you? I’m not worried about a stupid night at the bar! I feel like I’m losing you and you don’t care!”
A part of you knew you were looking to start a fight, to feel something from him other than indifference and annoyance. It had been a couple weeks since he’d shown any sign of giving a shit about you. You needed to know if there was anything left before you told him the latest news. You didn’t want Bucky if it was just for the baby. Sure, you knew he would step up but you didn’t know if that was for the best. An avenger for a father and parents that didn’t want to be together? You were pretty sure the baby inside you would be better off raised by a single mother in the middle of nowhere, far from the long list of enemies Bucky had.
He glared for a long second before snatching a pillow, “I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’ll be on the couch if that overbearing urge to check up on me gets to strong.” He slammed the door behind him and you broke into sobs.
You allowed yourself five minutes to be upset before wiping your tears and setting off to pack a bag. You didn’t grab much, only a weeks worth of clothes, a gun, and the running away back pack Tony had made for you. You tucked the duffel and the back pack underneath the bed.
You were faking it when Buck crept in the next morning to get ready for the job of the day. He hesitated in front of you and for a moment you were ready to throw your plans out the door. He shook his head and moved on and your resolve grew. You were leaving and it would be for the best.
Once he was gone you scribbled out the note and fiddled with the engagement ring on your finger. You knew you should leave it but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. You still loved him even if he didn’t love you. It wouldn’t hurt to bring one part of him with you. You glanced at your still small stomach, well, two.
Pepper didn’t bat an eye at your request to borrow a car. You snagged the keys to one of the nondescript SUVs and took off. About a mile down the road you pulled over and ripped out the tracking software on the car. You threw it in the dumpster behind a 7-11 along with your cell phone.
You drove, only stopping for gas, until you hit a small town in Virginia. You knew the town well but no one would know you. Every summer from the ages of 5 to 15 was enough to make an impact on you but not the town. You pulled into the drive of your grandmother’s old house. You had inherited the place when she died a couple years ago but due to working with the Avengers you didn’t have a need for it. The key slipped right into the deadbolt. The place looked just how you remembered it, only with more dust. The furniture was still there but you found what was all. The small knick knacks and mementoes were gone, likely claimed by other family members after her passing. 
The old clock on the wall said it was 5. Plenty of time to get started on cleaning the place up.
It was a long and hard pregnancy. The super soldier serum running through your son added a couple complications. He grew fast and was much stronger than he should be. He did a number on your body from the inside but it was all worth it when you held him in your arms. You cursed your luck when he came out with a head full of dark hair and winter blue eyes. 
You found work at a diner, making a living in tips. The great thing about tips is they tend to be paid in cash and it’s hard to trace cash. You were careful. No one was going to find you or your son. Andrew became the light of your life
Life was peaceful, a bit repetitive but safe. The biggest threat was your neighbor Travis. You would take a borderline stalker over Nazis any day. 
“You have got to be kidding me,” You mutter to yourself when Travis saunters into the diner. He was your typical tool. Peaked in high school playing football. Can’t handle rejection. Full of himself. 
“Good afternoon, table for one?” You put on a sweet smile.
“Just me, babygirl.” A chill runs down your spine but you shake it off and lead him to an empty booth. 
“I’ll give you a minute to decide what you want but can I get you a drink?” You hand over the laminated menu.
“I already know exactly what I want and I think you do too.” He gives you a smirk and you have to resist the urge to jam your pen into his eye. 
“Bacon cheeseburger?” You ask innocently.
He laughs it off but hands you his menu so you turn to put his order into the kitchen. You can feel his eyes on you as he walks away. 
The day drags on and Travis sticks around. First for an order of fries. Then a shake. By the time that’s gone it’s late enough for a couple beers. He finally pays his tab and leaves ten minutes before closing. You’re relieved until you notice his Honda still in the parking lot when you leave. 
You pat the holster in the waistband of your pants before making your way to the SUV in the back of the parking lot. The silver car tails you and it takes four right turns before you could go to pick up Andrew from his sitter. 
Travis was back home when you finally pulled in. You double checked that the door was locked behind you before you went upstairs with Andy. He toddled around your room while you got ready for bed. Tonight you didn’t feel like fighting him on sleeping in the crib so you tucked him in you arms in your own bed. 
Around two in the morning you woke up to the sound of glass shattering. You jumped out of bed with Andrew in your arms and grabbed the gun next to your bed. 
Creeping down the stair you hear someone in the kitchen. You’re only ten feet from the front door. You take a deep breath, set Andrew at your feet, and bring the gun up. You were trained by Avengers. You wouldn’t miss the shot as long as you didn’t hesitate. You wait for the figure to come into view and pull the trigger. The deafening bang goes off and he hits the ground. You snatch up Andrew and run for the door. Travis is next to you before you can get in your car. 
“What’s going on? I heard a gun?” He’s half naked and more alert than he was when he left the diner. 
You’re scrambling for your keys when your front door flies off the hinges and the man you just shot steps out. 
“This isn’t happening! How is it still following me?” You’re breaths are struggling to come and go. You push Andrew into Travis’ arms and aim at the man again. It doesn’t seem to do any damage. It just pisses him off. You take another shot and get the same result. You’re about to try again when a blur of a figure tackles the man. The moonlight catches on one of his arms and you’re frozen in place. 
You grab the toddler and turn to run but Travis is a little too ready to play hero. He picks you up bridal style and runs.
He doesn’t make it fifty feet before a blond wall of muscle stops him. “Y/N?” Steve mutters after pulling you out of his arms. “What, what are you doing here?” Andrew begins crying louder and clinging to you. Steve finally looks down and has to take a step back. 
“I can explain,” You start. Suddenly, you’re pushed to the pavement and Travis is throwing a punch at Captain America. Steve’s head turns with the force but his body stays planted. You kick yourself at the satisfaction you feel when Steve shoves Travis back. He crouches down in front of you and offers a hand.
“Let’s try that explanation now.” 
You hear Bucky scoff behind him, “This will be good.” He freezes in his tracks when he takes in the site. You’re wearing a silk slip on the ground clutching a child that can’t be much more than a year old. 
He stares for a long moment before shaking himself out of it and shrugging off his jacket. He wraps it around your shoulders before helping you to your feet. 
You’re caught off guard by the rush of emotions when you look at him and hot tears well in your eyes, “I am so sorry Buck.”
He tries to be mad but can’t stop himself from pulling you into his arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, relishing in the feeling of you in his arms again. Andrew reaches his arms up and around your neck protectively, finally catching Bucky’s attention. 
He steps back suddenly, “Who’s this?”
You swallow hard, knowing the storm that’s coming. “This is your son. Andrew James Barnes.”
“My what?” He looks at you in disbelief then back to Andrew.
“Let’s go inside?” You suggest.
Bucky stops inside the doorway and admires the wall of pictures. The majority of them Andrew at every stage so far. You were in a few with him but there was only a handful of just you. They’re different stages of your pregnancy. He swallows hard when he takes in the sight of you in the third month. That’s when the toll started being taken. He broke the first rib kicking right around that time. He was delivered at six months, the serum making him grow much faster. As the pictures got closer to delivery you looked more and more like a corpse. Bucky hated that he wasn’t there for you for any of it, that he didn’t even know you were dealing with it. 
“He definitely takes after you. The serum is in his DNA.” You say quietly. 
“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just leave and take my child with you?” You can hear the emotion behind each of his words.
“You didn’t want to be with me and I wasn’t going to make you feel obligated to.” You knew it sounded pathetic, “And you have enough enemies to worry about. I didn’t want that for our son.”
“Our son,” He repeats quietly. “How is he so big? You’ve only been gone for a year.”
You rub and hand over his cropped hair, “His development is a lot faster than  a normal childs. He’s only about seven months old but he compares to children almost twice that, but even then he’s much stronger.” 
“Can I hold him?” He seems unsure of himself but you happily hand him over.
Bucky extends his fingers to Andrew in his lap. Andy curiously takes two in his small hands and you flinch, knowing how tight his grip can get. Bucky watches him, unfazed by the ridiculous strength. He holds Andrew close to him for a few minutes before Andrew tries to climb back to you.
“You’re both coming back to the compound.” Bucky stands up.
“Like hell we are! This is our home. This is where we’re safe. And I won’t let you feel obligated to take me back because we have a baby.”
He gives you a serious look, “Bullshit. That ring on your finger says you’re still mine. And in what world is this safer than the compound? An alien broke in tonight!”
Before you knew it you were in the quinjet headed back to the base. Bucky never let you out of his sight. On the bright side, the ride provided plenty of time for apologies. Neither of you were happy with the others choices but you could understand them and move past them.
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egcdeath · 3 years
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checkmate
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summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)
pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 
word count: 3.7k
warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!
author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.
this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 
okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D
“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl
Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.
For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 
You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 
And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.
From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 
Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 
This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 
You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).
Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 
You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 
To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 
It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.
You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 
You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 
——
It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.
Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.
“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”
“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 
“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.
Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”
You huffed in response.
Of fucking course.
“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”
Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 
“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 
You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 
Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 
After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 
——
You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 
You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.
It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 
You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.
You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.
Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.
You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 
You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 
With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.
----
 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 
Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.
Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.
Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 
You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.
“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.
Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”
His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.
“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.
“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”
Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 
You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 
You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.
“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.
“I’m going back home,” you whispered.
“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.
You shook your head, “I am.”
“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”
“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.
This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”
You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”
Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.
“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 
You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 
9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.
You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.
As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.
You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.
Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 
“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 
“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.
“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 
He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”
Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 
As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 
“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 
You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.
“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”
You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.
He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 
You nodded again. 
“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”
“Surprise?” you said weakly. 
“You’re a psychotic bitch.”
“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 
“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”
You didn’t even have to respond.
“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”
“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”
“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”
Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”
“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 
“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”
“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”
“I asked if it’s even mine.”
“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”
“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.
“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”
“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”
“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.
“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”
Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.
“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”
Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 
“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”
You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 
You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 
You finally won.  
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thran-duils · 3 years
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And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.1)
Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 1,656 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending
Author’s Note: READ the intro! This chapter starts there.
Introduction || Part Two || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost
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You barely remember the wedding ceremony. There had been no courting, no engagement whatsoever to speak of between you and your now husband, Tony Stark. Your marriage was a business transaction between him and your father. The ceremony had been short and sweet, the reception being the thing people were most concerned with and between your father and Tony, the food and drink had been exceptional. You had kept your head about you, not drinking too much, and turning down drugs that had been offered. Tony had done the same, much to your surprise. He was being as cautious about you as you were being about him in turn; neither wanted the other to get the jump on them.
A town car, driven by one of his men, had come at the end of your night to take the two of you to the airport to your honeymoon. On the drive, the car was quiet, the pair of you on your phones or looking out the window, with small comments about the reception sprinkled in. Neither of you were pretending this was anything more than it was at this point; you were practically strangers, only having crossed paths a couple times a year before now.
Plus, you were not inclined to speak with him considering what you had been told by one of your bridesmaids. Tony had apparently been bragging about how he was going to get you into bed on the honeymoon. One of your girlfriends had happened to overhear him speaking to a handful of his men in what was supposed to be a private conversation. There had been comment from another about your ‘rack’ looking ‘delectable’ in your wedding gown and that term had made you gag. Another told him it should be ‘easy’ to get you on your back considering your reputation for clubbing. You despised the men in this business sometimes.
He had not gotten you into bed on the honeymoon. Much to his extreme annoyance; he had trouble hiding his temper, that much you had figured out already. You had kept yourself occupied with local attractions and the pool for the weekend.
His mansion was foreign to you and even after a month, you had still not settled in. And he was still trying to strong arm you with his comments and behavior to be submissive. Just like he was doing right now with his trying to order you around to get him and his men drinks. Fat chance. You stayed relaxed on your floatie, hearing June, your personal favorite of the servants because she was not an idiot and could hold a good conversation, gathering up the champagne to take over to them.
<><><>
Later in the evening, you came out of your closet, finding Tony walking into his. He was uncuffing his dress shirt and he stopped seeing you.
“That’s a nice dress,” Tony commented, his eyes running over you quickly, eyes only lingering at the tight fabric around your hips for the briefest of moments. “Mind telling me where you’re going?”
“Out.”
“Y/N.” There was warning in his tone.
He had an annoying habit of tracking you whenever you left the house. Whether or not he thought you were going to betray the marriage deal, cheat on him, or he was just a control freak – the last being very likely considering the sexism in the mafia – you were unsure. But it drove you up the wall he wanted tabs on you all the time.
Sighing as you dug through your clutch to make sure you had everything you needed, you told him, “I’m going out with my friends.”
“Where?” he pressed.
“The Bungalow,” you answered seeing your friend texted that she was outside. “It’s in Santa Monica.”
Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring you down. You looked up at his silence finding the glower being aimed at you.
“What?” you asked exasperated.
“Be back by midnight.”
“You’re not my fucking parent, Tony.”
Tony rose his eyebrows in annoyance at your tone. “No, you’re right. I’m your husband. And as your husband, I’m telling you I want you back home by midnight. It doesn’t look good if you’re out partying until 3:00 in the morning all the time. That shit is gonna stop sooner rather than later.”
“It’s almost 8:00 and it takes a half hour—”
Tony cut in, “Then it sounds like you better stop arguing with me and get going.”
Clenching your jaw, you turned away from him and stomped out of your bedroom.
“Maybe invite your friends here next time! It’s not like there’s not a bar and pool here,” you heard him call after you.
You were suppressing the urge to scream as you descended the staircase. Just because you were married did not mean your life had to end. In the hall, you ran into one of his guys, Bucky, meandering with a drink in hand. He spotted you and gave you a smile. You forced an extremely fake one for a split second before storming past him out the front door.
Instead of forcing your friend to have to drive you home so early in the night and cutting their fun short, you risked taking an Uber by yourself back home. There were still cars outside which meant mafia members were still over. It was ten after midnight. You had had half a mind to invite your friends home, prepared to throw Tony’s words back at him about the pool and the bar. But you were afraid that the mafia would still be here and that had proven to be a legitimate fear. Plus, if Tony had lost his temper, you did not want to put your friends in that awkward position of witnessing that.
You slammed the front door as loudly as you could and immediately made your way towards the kitchen to make yourself a stiff drink. Throwing your clutch onto the kitchen island, you kicked your shoes off as well, leaving them haphazardly on the tile. You could hear music and voices coming from down the hall in what you assumed was the billiard room.
The vodka cran was stiff just like you wanted, and you took a huge gulp, leaning on the counter.
Natasha walked into the kitchen, and she paused seeing you before smiling; you returned it weakly.
“Looking for the chip stash,” she told you as she moved towards the pantry. She rummaged around in there and emerged with a couple bags. She asked, “Are you going to join us?”
“No, thank you though,” you told her. “I’m gonna watch Netflix. That’s what people do when they’re forced home before midnight, right?”
Natasha looked uncomfortable and said, “I… suppose. Well, if you change your mind then we’re in the game room.”
“Thanks,” you said again and she left you there, like she could not wait to exit that awkward conversation.
<><><>
Tossing the chips on the table, Natasha told Tony, giving him a cringing look, “You really pissed Y/N off. You gave her a curfew?”
Bucky rose his eyebrows as he grabbed one of the bags. He slowly opened it, waiting for Tony to respond.
Tony looked down at his watch and realized it was in fact almost 12:30. He had lost track of the time. “She’s home, then?” Natasha nodded and he smirked in triumph. “Good.”
“So, did you?”
“She doesn’t need to be out dancing in clubs all the damn time now. It’s embarrassing and frankly insulting for me,” Tony responded. “She’s not available and she shouldn’t be acting as such. She’s got to respect me. If my own wife won’t, then what’s stopping everyone else from not doing it either?”
Natasha chewed on that and shrugged. “I can see that. But maybe you shouldn’t be so gloating about the fact she obeyed your rule. You should thank her for listening to you. Just my opinion. Might help melt down the ice a little bit.” Tony scowled and she pressed, “You know I’m right. Her coming back when you asked should build some trust, right?”
Tony said after a few beats, “In the morning.”
“No, now.”
“Who is whose boss, here?” Tony asked her, cocking his head incredulously.
She nudged him and he let out an exasperated sigh as he got up from the couch, putting his drink down on the table.
“You said you had next game right?” Rhodes asked as Tony walked by. He was playing against Wanda at the pool table.
“Yes, and I’m going to kick whoever’s ass it is,” Tony answered, leaving the room.
<><><>
Tony walked into the bedroom, finding you under the covers, watching Netflix.
You told him scornfully, “I know, I know. I was ten minutes late. I’m sorry. In my defense, I took an uber home because I didn’t wanna make Jasmine leave early. So, they got lost for a few.”
He held up his hand, his brows raised. “Easy, tiger. Ten minutes is not a huge issue. I was just… coming up to check on you.”
“Well, I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes going back to the television.
He pointed at your glass and asked, “Want a refill?” You eyed him suspiciously and he said, “Just asking.”
“No, thank you. I had enough at the bar, and this is gonna be my last.”
Tony nodded and said, “Right. Well, be sure to drink water before you go to bed. And thanks by the way… for listening to me and coming back on time.”
“You’re welcome…” you told him, confused as all hell at his out of left field behavior.
He nodded again and clapped his hands before turning on his heel and walking out.
“What the fuck?” you said under your breath to yourself.
Since when was he that calm?
Slowly, you sunk back into the pillows. You shot another look at the door, wondering what had gotten into him.
~~~
Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl
Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental​
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hunflowers · 4 years
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Golden
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Word Count: 15.3k
Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)
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A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read. 
special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub​ for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3
for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*
Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.
Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.
O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world. 
Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.
Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.
Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.
Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.
They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.
Well, that was her intention anyway.
October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.
And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.
Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.
Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.
Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it. 
After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.
Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.
Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.
Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.
“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.
“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.
“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.
Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.
Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.
“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.
“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.
They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.
Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.
Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.
“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”
But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.
“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”
“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”
He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”
“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”
She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”
Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”
He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”
“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.
Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.
The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.
When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.
“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother. 
Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.
All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.
Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.
“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer. 
He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.
“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”
Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.
Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”
Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.
She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.
His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”
His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”
This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.
Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.
Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.
Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.
“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.
Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.
At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.
Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone. 
Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.
Of this life.
❊ ❊
“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”
Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves. 
AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.
It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.
“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.
He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”
Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.
“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.
They really love staring at one another apparently.
When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.
She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried. 
“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations. 
Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family. 
Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”
Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”
“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.
He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”
Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”
Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”
They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”
❊ ❊
It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.
It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful. 
Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.
Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.
Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.
She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.
Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.
Y/N agreed to a date.
Well, kind of.
It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of  many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.
She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?
It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.
So, she was panicking.
Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.
When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.
People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.
Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”
“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.
“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”
Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.
“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”
A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her. 
“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”
Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.
That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.
She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.
Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.
Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.
Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.
The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry. 
She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.
But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.
Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”
Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.
“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.
hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)
It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.
Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.
It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure. 
Fuck.
❊ ❊
It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’
When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck. 
Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.
Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.
It didn’t.
Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.
“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.
Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.
A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.
When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.
“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.
It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”
Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”
It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”
“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”
“Have you met you?”
There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.
There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.
It’s the opposite.
Just for him. Just for her.
They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.
Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”
“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”
“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her. 
Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”
“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”
Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.
“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.
At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”
Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”
“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”
Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”
It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.
It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”
“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.
“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched. 
“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.
Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.
She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”
“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.
“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”
Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”
Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”
“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.
“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.
She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”
“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest. 
“Really?”
“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming. 
Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”
“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”
Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”
Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her. 
Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around. 
“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.
“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.
Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”
They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.
Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.
Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.
There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.
“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa. 
Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”
“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue. 
“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.
She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”
He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”
“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”
❊ ❊
The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”
Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).
They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.
Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?
They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.
“You’re cheating.”
“How the fuck am I cheating?”
“Dunno, you just are.”
And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”
Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him. 
It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness. 
When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more. 
Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.
“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”
Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven. 
“Was it hard getting back in the water?”
She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”
Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace. 
“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.
“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.
Home is where the heart is.
“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”
Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat. 
Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over. 
Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving. 
Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.
Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.
Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”
Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.
His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google. 
She’s kicking herself over it. 
Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.
Cheers to that, babe.
By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.
Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.
Is it too soon to be in love?
It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.
Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.
“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”
“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes. 
Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”
She already knew his question.
“Can I kiss you?”
He already knew her answer.
Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.
But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.
It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.
Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.
The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’
“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”
A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.
“Sunrise,” she agreed.
He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.
Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face. 
❊ ❊
Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.
But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways. 
This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.
Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.
Harry never wants to be alone again.
It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.
Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.
Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar. 
So, she nods her head in agreement.
She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.
When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones. 
That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.
Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?
With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute. 
It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments? 
There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.
The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while. 
They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.
At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”
“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.
He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”
Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”
Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”
“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.
“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.
Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.
“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”
They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.
“Good girl.”
He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”
Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.
“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her. 
Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.
Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.
“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.
His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”
Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven. 
“Wh-wha…?”
“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”
So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.
When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.
They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved. 
With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.
Because that’s what this was. Love.
It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.
Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.
“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.
When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.
This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way. 
“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”
She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers. 
“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.
They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.
It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion. 
“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”
“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”
There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.
“Yeah. I do.”
Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.
“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”
721 notes · View notes
lilbabycee · 4 years
Text
tidal // steve rogers 🌊
↳ summary: tony doesn’t trust his kid and steve has to play mediator, although those duties don’t come without a reward
↳ relationship: dad’s best friend!steve rogers x stark!reader
↳ request: steve defending his soft girl when she starts crying when someone yelled at her...maybe she thanks him by putting her mouth to good use @donutloverxo + what about dad’sbestfriend!steve x reader?...I need me some Steve please!! (anon)
↳ word count: 5.4k (this has no business being this long)
↳ warnings: angst, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, some light fluff kinda
↳ author’s note: i do love a stark!reader so this was so much fun for me - enjoy my loves! x
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The relationship that you have with your father is complicated. It reminds you acutely of the foamy sea that you used to tentatively wade in and simply stare at with a wide-eyed, childlike fascination when your parents took you to the Maldives or Seychelles or Ivory Coast, each summer a different place and a different tide. There’s a sense of predictability to it, a routine you have in a language that is understandable to nobody but the two of you. He pushes and you pull, coordinating your movements in a choreographed dance so as to safely row your canoe filled to the brim with trust and love through the rocky seas of life. 
He’s made a mark on you that will always be a permanent imprint on your soul much like the way that water stains the surface of the sand but it’s not as if you perceive that as something negative. You attribute the best parts of yourself to your mother and father and although their DNA isn’t housed inside your body, you’re more Tony’s child than he could have ever asked for. He hears so much of him in the tone of your voice and sees Pepper whenever you cross your arms over your chest and pin him with a look he knows too well - her influence is all over your mannerisms - and the both of them in the charming brightness of your smile when you let yourself laugh freely.
The moment he saw you, barely hours old and sleeping deeply - something that he found out that you would carry with you throughout your years - he’d thought you were cute (all babies are cute and the hundreds of other babies he’d seen in the past few weeks were also cute). But when you’d instinctively gripped Pepper’s finger tightly in your impossibly tiny fist and blinked awake sleepily, he’d fallen in love with your pretty eyes first, the way that you stared through him like you already knew him and it was then that he knew you were his as much as he was yours.
Of course, things weren’t- aren’t always as picture-perfect as they seem. He knows that there are days when you haunt his nightmares, dreams where he can’t protect you plaguing his conscience and causing him to crowd you with what he thinks is love. Rather, it’s an overbearing and often patronizing kind of attention that feels like a thousand sharp needles piercing through your skin. You’re very in touch with your emotions, a quality about you that Tony is sure that you must’ve learned from your mother, while he has the tendency to avoid sentimentality like it’s a disease and that’s where those arguments start, the ones that flare up and spread like forest fires.
In fact, you’re having one of them now. Tony knew how this was going to end before it even began but he can’t help but always engage because he’s as stubborn as he raised you to be. His jaw is set and his nostrils flaring as he stares at you - you’re his progeny, his baby, half of his heart who is standing in that way that reminds him of his wife with crystals in your eyes that make him wonder if you ever wear that diamond necklace he bought you last year.
“You never take me seriously,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him which causes a fat teardrop to spill over and run down your cheek. His eyes soften briefly at the sight of your emotional state before he looks away, the painful tugging at his heart trying to pull him towards you. He won’t give in to it: that’ll mean you win. “See - you can’t even look at me, Dad-”
“Sweetheart, I take you plenty seriously,” Tony gnaws on the end of the pen in his mouth, still sitting in front of the holograms of all of the data he’s been trying to process for the past few hours. His feet are propped up on the table, casually crossed at the ankles and shoulders completely relaxed, leaning back in his chair and balancing precariously one of the wheels, sitting in the exact same way that he always told you not to. He taps out a rhythmic beat against his leg with his fingers, eyes darting around the room as he pretends to be interested in everything but you. 
His entire posture radiates the feeling that he doesn’t give a shit about you or what you have to say and it makes your heart sink to your stomach despite the fact that you know this man. You know that he’s just putting on a front and he’s really listening because he was the one who drilled into your head that you always have something to say that’s worth listening to. Yet you cannot for the life of you accept that this man in front of you is acting so coldly when his own daughter is trying to tell him how she feels.
The scoff that comes out of your mouth is involuntary and Tony can’t fight the twitch of his lips because it sounds so much like him, but he only lets it linger for half a second, not allowing you to see how affected he is. Both him and Pepper were under the impression that once they had kids, Tony would finally take the steps towards being willing to share more of himself with the people around him. And he did, for a while. But once you hit those teenage years, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be his baby forever - you’d grow up and think your own thoughts and breathe your own air in an environment that he hasn’t polluted with his own ideals. 
His heart beat out of his chest every time he thought about it and he had to face the facts: he was scared. And so he went on the defensive, coddling you and trying to shield you from the harsh realities of the world that he had to face from such a young age. Unfortunately for the both of you, you didn’t appreciate being spoon-fed by your parents your whole life: you have a sense of maturity and independence that Tony is terrified of and it manifested itself in rebellion, a phase in your adolescence hat had almost gotten cost you your life in more situations than he cared to admit. 
“I’m not kidding, Dad,” you reply, your head feeling as if it’s under construction because the unbearably loud banging on the inside of your brain is driving you crazy because he’s deflecting and you know it. A river of tears slide their way down to your chin and you don’t even bother to wipe them. “And you keep making jokes like this isn’t serious-”
“I haven’t been making jokes,” Tony points out calmly, playing around with a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything to you and distractedly manoeuvering some stupid data table that is somehow more interesting than his own child. 
As much as you try, you genuinely can’t help it when you stomp your foot, the loud noise breaking through Tony’s nonchalance and causing him to arch an eyebrow at you. 
“This isn’t some temper tantrum, Dad,” you tell him, the strength in your voice breaking down and causing it to crack. Your hands come up to clutch your head tightly in a futile attempt to bring yourself back to Earth, tired of the way that your emotions throw your brain into orbit. Your feet are on the ground but it doesn’t feel like it, your rage burning your skin and setting a bonfire in the depths of your body. “You fight me on everything - first it was college then it was working for S.I then it was becoming an Avenger… you think I’m still some little kid-”
“Because you’ve proven time after time that you can’t fend for yourself,” Tony cocks his head as your eyes lock, daring you to challenge him on his statement because the two of you know how much validity it holds.
“That was one time!-”
Tony sighs, shaking his head in what you assume is disappointment and while in any other scenario your heart would’ve sunk, this time it stays where it’s been for the past ten minutes, perishing in the flames licking the sides of your stomach. He gathers some of his papers and tucks the pen in his mouth behind his ear before he starts to make his way to the door, leaving you to stare at his back as his hand drops on the handle and he addresses you again. “One time that you could’ve gotten killed, Y/N, so we’re not doing this today-”
“You know what, Tony?” 
You’ve never called him that before - not even when you’re in large crowds and everyone seems to be yelling Dad! - and you know it’s vindictive and a step too far but it’s exhausting being treated like a helpless child. This has the desired effect, freezing him in his tracks and as he turns on his heel, you know that you may have crossed a line but you can’t bring yourself to care because your fury has consumed your whole body and the heat is boiling the blood running through your veins.
“What did you just call me?”
“Anthony,” you inform him matter-of-factly, hands on your hips while the hardness of his eyes halts your racing blood flow, the iciness freezing your bones while hot rage seeps out of every single one of his pores so palpably that you can almost see the steam spilling out of his ears. “You can fuck right off until you decide that I can be trusted enough to make decisions for myself and you know what else? You can-”
“Hey, hey, what’s going on in here?” 
You bite back your next words as soon as that rich timbre caresses your ears and the rigid posture of your body begins to slowly melt at the sound. You don’t even have to look behind you to know that it’s your dad’s best friend - ever the hero - coming to diffuse the ticking time bomb that is this argument between you and your father.
“This isn’t your battle to fight, Rogers,” Tony doesn’t peel his eyes off of you at all, not even sparing his friend a glance. 
And as much as you don’t like Tony at the moment, you can’t help but agree with him.
“Steve, he’s right,” you tear your eyes away from your dad, turning around so that you can glance over at the golden man whose presence alone has wrapped you in a comforting safety blanket that already makes you want to stand down. 
“No, neither of you are,” his blond hair is pushed back away from his face and you’re momentarily distracted by the hard lines of his jaw and the thick beard that covers them. He’s speaking in that same low voice that he uses to rally the Avengers when he’s clad in red, white, and blue, and you have to discreetly squeeze your thighs together at the sound. 
The rational part of your brain knows that this is not the time to be ogling your dad’s best friend but you can’t help the way that your heart starts beating double time when he enters a room and how his warm gaze sets your entire body alight, not unlike the way that your unbridled anger is making you feel right now; the only difference is that Steve triggers a deep desire for something unknown tucked away so secretly that it only awakened when you met him.
But you know he’d never do that to Tony - shit, you don’t know if he’s still holding a candle for a love once lost all those years ago and frankly, you don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself by feeling the poison sting of rejection dealt from the sickeningly sweet lips of America’s apple pie. The lethal mix of sugar and malice would only rot your heart and you don’t know that you could survive the decay.
“In fact, both of you are acting like children,” he booms, his hands landing on his hips while he shakes his head disbelievingly at your familial dispute. Steve opens his mouth as if he’s about to continue, but Tony simply holds a hand up and it almost immediately shushes the supersoldier.
“No need, Capiscle,” Tony cocks his head to the side almost mockingly, his eyes still glued resolutely on your wet face. “I just wanna say this: if you are going to be so ungrateful of everything that your mother and I have sacrificed for you, then you can get the fuck out of my house. You have no idea what we’ve had to go through just so that you can live a safe, healthy lifestyle in which you don’t have to want for anything. The fact that you have the audacity to speak to me like that is a testament to how much we’ve failed as parents because you are the fruit of all of our labor: a spoiled little brat with no conception of the real world because everything revolves around you, doesn’t it princess?”
He spits the endearment out and you can only assume that it is because it has left as bitter a taste in his mouth as it has yours. Throughout his heated rant, your hands started shaking and at first, you couldn’t figure out why but you soon realized that it’s because Tony’s never yelled at you like that before. He barely even raises his voice at you because he’s never wanted to be anything like Howard but today, it seems as if he could no longer contain all of the pent up frustration that he’s had with you that has been building for years. 
And because of this, you’ve been rendered speechless with no visible emotion on your face save from the seemingly endless stream of tears that spill from your glassy eyes. You don’t know what hurts more: his words or the fact that he’s still staring at you like a stranger.
“Tony, that’s enough,” Steve intervenes when the silence between the three of you stretches on for what feels like an eternity. He positions his body so that he’s blocking you from your father’s cold stare. “I’m not gonna let you talk to her like that-”
“Oh, come on, Cap,” Tony scoffs and you don’t have to be able to see him to know that he’s folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know what-”
“And I don’t need to know,” the broad man in front of you interrupts him loudly and you can do nothing but watch the altercation happen because even if you tried, you can’t pick your feet up off the floor. “Whatever she’s done or said to you doesn’t warrant you speaking to her like that. You’ve fought her at every corner, what do you expect? For her to just lie down and take it? She’s your daughter: you should know as well as I do that she’s as hard-headed as you. You need to take a step back and stop being a backseat driver - she’s an adult now and can make her own choices, Tony.”
And with that, Steve circles an arm around you and lifts you up into his arms, his waist trapped between your legs and your arms gripping his neck. A moment passes when Steve breezes past Tony where your gazes meet and the usual sweetness of his hazelnut eyes has turned bitter with guilt and resentment. You avert your stare as quickly as you can to bury your face in Steve’s muscled shoulder and as your cheek rests on it, you’re reminded all too vividly of the way that Bucky or Sam or Steve (or your dad) used to carry you to bed when you had fallen asleep between the pages of your textbook or face down next to a cold bowl of whatever Pepper had cooked for you that night. 
Really, you’re almost convinced that you must’ve dozed off during the short trip from Tony’s lab to your bedroom because when you finally snap back to attention, you’re still in Steve’s arms but he’s standing still in front of your bed. And neither of you say anything for some time, letting the moment breathe while Steve soothes you silently, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your spine as quiet sobs wrack your shaking body.
“Hey, hey,” he hushes you, eventually sliding you down his body and placing you on the bed. You’re sure that your face still reflects your previous mental state but you feel significantly better now, the hive of bees that were slamming at the insides of your heart have tired both you and themselves out and are now resting. You look up at Steve with wide eyes, wet lashes brushing your skin lightly as his baby blues drill into yours so deeply that you’re sure that he must be able to see inside your head by now. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because the answer seems kind of obvious, but I will ask if you need anything?”
You hesitate before giving him an answer, torn between confessing those powerful feelings for him that you’ve tried so hard to repress and letting him go. Instead, you grab one of his hands between both of yours, tugging on it so that he kneels in front of you. 
“You didn’t have to do that for me back there,” your eyes flick up to his quickly and you can’t help it when you start to play with his fingers, consciously having to stop your mind from wandering to unsavory places. “I-I know you and my dad are, like, best friends, so I never would’ve asked you to put your friendship at risk and stand up for me like that… it was, uh- it was really sweet of you, Steve, so thank you-”
Steve jerks his head back and for a tense second, your heart drops because you’re sure that you’ve offended him but then he says:
“Y/N, you don’t have to thank me- not at all, I mean- it was the human thing to do,” Steve insists, forcefully grasping your chin in his large hand to make him look at you. The disbelief that sparkles in his eyes lights up your soul and makes a shy smile spread across your lips. 
He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek like he usually does, but you decide there and then that you really are tired of having your dad take the reigns from you every day. You want to be able to confidently grab life by its metaphorical balls and take a leap of faith off of what is admittedly a very steep cliff. So you grip his face between your hands and redirect his lips to your own. 
He’s completely unresponsive for several seconds, causing a scorching hot wave of embarrassment to flood your face - a part of you wants to hold out hope and pray that maybe he’s just shocked by your bold move but you’ve learned not to cling onto unrealistic expectations so you move back, eyes squeezed shut because you can already taste the sourness of rejection on your tongue. 
But he knocks all of the breath out of your body when he climbs on top of you and crashes his lips back on yours, cradling your face between his wide palms as he slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and raw as your teeth clash with his almost violently but the feeling of his soft lips on yours soothes that ache, their warmth curing the hurt in your heart. He swallows any breath you have left in your lungs as your lips move in tandem with his. 
When you pull away because you think you’re about to suffocate, Steve presses his lips down the column of your neck, sucking a bruise right underneath your ear and playfully biting your earlobe. The rough sensation of his thick beard on your sensitive skin makes you giggle breathlessly and your chest heaves as his hands move smoothly down to your waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband on your shorts. 
But then his hands stop moving and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. He lowers his head to your abdomen, resting his forehead on your stomach and your hand instinctively weaves through the golden strands of his hair. 
“Steve?-”
“You want this, sweetheart?” he kisses your stomach and moves right in between your legs, looking up at you as his thumbs still toy with the stretchy material of your black shorts. 
“Of course-”
And you don’t get to finish your sentence because you gasp as Steve whips off your shorts with unprecedented speed. He takes your panties right with them, throwing them somewhere to the side - you don’t care to notice where because Steve’s eyes are more black than blue and his gaze is locked on your core. 
This is when you get an idea.
When you take your t-shirt off, you’re only left in the black bralette that you normally wear around the house, so you whip that off too without any preamble. Steve’s eyes are so focused on the bounce of your breasts that it gives you the opportunity to muster up all of the energy you can, locking your legs around Steve’s waist (your eyes can’t help but travel to the obvious bulge in his blue jeans) and flip him over so that you’re sitting right on top of his erection. 
“Wh-”
You shush him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt so that he gets the message to take it off. He does as he’s told but narrows his eyes at you. You almost don’t notice because you’re staring at the glorious expanse of his sculpted upper body. You’ve always thought that he looked like a Greek statue and right now, the way that the sunlight streaming through your window bounces off of his smooth skin and brings out the green in his eyes only emphasizes the fact that he’s a true work of art, a masterpiece in his own right. 
Pushing yourself up so that you’re nose to nose with the supersoldier on his back underneath you, you lean down just enough so that your lips ghost over his when you speak. 
“I’m supposed to be thanking you,” you press your lips against his momentarily, watching the way that his eyelashes flutter when you slowly slide your hand down his powerful chest, over his muscled stomach and down to his jeans-clad crotch to boldly palm his dick. 
“Honey, you don’t have to-”
You cut him off with another quick kiss, moving down his body with the grace of a trained dancer (you can thank your mom for over ten years of ballet) so that you can unbuckle the black belt at his narrow waist. Steve props himself up on his forearms, staring down at you with hooded eyes and your eyes keenly follow the swipe of his tongue over his cotton candy lips.
You take your time pulling his zipper down, noticing how his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you push his jeans down his thick thighs. Your mouth is close to watering at the sight of his white Calvins which are very obviously tented in the front and you snap the elastic band of his boxer briefs playfully before pulling them over his erection.
It’s impossible to stop the way that your eyes grow comically large at the size of his cock, something at the back of your mind wondering whether or not you’ll be able to fully take him down your throat. He’s heavy in the both of your hands, the tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum. 
But it’s the cocky little smirk on Steve’s face that steels your resolve. 
“What’s wrong, baby? Too big for you?” he teases you in a surprisingly steady voice, inhaling again to continue his jeering, but his head falls back and his breath audibly stutters because you flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the underside of his dick.
“You were saying?” you taunt right back, a smile of your own gracing your face. He doesn’t have a reply to that, instead moving his hand down to grip the back of your neck tightly, guiding you back down to his cock.
The tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his length before you take the bulbous tip between your lips, sucking lightly and enjoying the way that his blunt fingernails are stabbing into the skin of your neck. You don’t tease him for much longer, one hand on the base of his manhood while you relax your throat and attempt to take all of him in your mouth. Your fight your gag reflex tooth and nail, reveling in the quiet sighs and moans from the man above you.
What you can’t swallow you work with your hand, your other hand coming up to toy with his balls and roll them between your fingers and palm. He controls the speed at which you bob up and down his cock and you keep watching the array of emotions on his face, feeling the power and control that you have over him surge through your body.
“God, doll,” he groans, his lower lip between his perfect teeth. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ all of me like that.”
His words spur you on and you really push your boundaries by taking him all the way down, so close that your nose is being tickled by the dark blond hairs at the base of his cock. What you’re not expecting is the way that Steve applies pressure to the back of your neck that’s just enough so that you can’t move. Your eyes sting as he keeps your head down, making you swallow and choke as small tears leak from your eyes. You’re forced to breathe through your nose as Steve groans when your gag reflex kicks in, your throat constricting around the heavy weight of his dick.
“Such a good little slut, huh?” he smirks, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby, suckin’ your dad’s friend off like a little fuckin’ whore.”
You can’t help the way that a loud moan falls from your lips, though it’s almost entirely muted by the thick cock in your mouth. 
“Oh, you like that?” Steve’s confidence is only making you wetter. He eases up on your neck, allowing you to withdraw about an inch before he pushes you back down. “You like being called a slut, pretty girl?”
You nod as best as you can under the circumstances, fighting back another moan.
“That’s good, honey, because you’re gonna be my little cockslut from now on, hmm?”
And finally, he pulls you off of him completely, reveling in the way that your eyes are glossy with tears and your lungs gulp down huge breaths as thin strings of saliva hang from your lips. 
“Messy girl,” Steve reprimands you condescendingly, but his voice sounds strained and he looks like he could cum just from drinking in your disheveled state. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”
You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face at the praise, and Steve cups your face gently and leans in to give you a sweet kiss. 
“You gonna let me cum in your mouth, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, nudging your nose with his. 
“Yes, sir,” you tease playfully, not wasting any more time and wrapping your lips around his dick once again, running the tip of your tongue against the prominent vein down the side while you bob your head up and down. You’re more determined than ever to push him over the edge, wanting to be the one who has complete control over his pleasure. 
“That’s it, just like that- shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you after he takes your face between both of his hands and fucks your mouth, your jaw relaxed as he uses you to chase his orgasm, eyes closed and head hanging back as he loses himself in the throes of desire. 
You bask in the sense of satisfaction that you get from the way that his cock twitches in your mouth and the shout that he gives when the evidence of his release floods your mouth. You happily let it slide down your throat, sucking on his tip lightly as you do. The tangy taste lingers on your tongue and as you pull off of him with a pop, you have to wipe around your mouth because you’re sure that he’s made a complete mess of your face. 
“Holy fuck, darlin’,” he heaves, pulling you up to rest against his chest but not before you take the time to admire how beautiful he is. A light pink flush that’s started at his cheeks has traveled down his neck and bloomed on his chest - you love the way that it’s burning the tips of his ears. With your chest pressed against his, he ghosts his fingers up and down your back while his lips press against your shoulder.
“Your dad’s gonna kill me… and I didn’t even get you off, baby,” he mutters, only a second away from pouting and it makes you grin. 
“He won’t because he’s not gonna find out… and I didn’t want you to,” you reply simply, lightly circling one of his nipples with the tip of your nail. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do that later.”
Steve readjusts himself so that his back is leaning against the headboard and you’re perched in his lap, straddling his thighs. His brows are knitting together and a frustrated frown mars his pretty face. 
“No, I want to,” he insists, warm hands landing on your hips and rocking them back and forth so that your clit catches on the muscles of his legs. You bite your lip so as to suppress a moan. “It wouldn’t be-”
“Y/N, babe, are you in there?”
The two of you still as a knock followed by Tony’s soft voice bleeds through the door. 
“Shit,” you curse quietly, scrambling off of Steve and grabbing the nearest article of clothing that you can find. 
“I know you don’t wanna talk to me right now, but I don’t wanna leave things like this so I’m comin’ in, sweetie-”
“Dad, no!”
But it’s too late, the door opening just enough to reveal your father’s face whose whiskey eyes immediately land on yours. Thankfully, you were able to pull on Steve’s shirt and your shorts, but you can’t say the same for the six-foot-something supersoldier who has skillfully rolled underneath your bed, still naked as the day he was born. 
“What’s going on in here, hon?” Tony quirks an eyebrow at you as he pops his head around the door, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as his eyes scan the room. 
“Nothing,” you say breathlessly, running a hand over your face as you silently pray that your dad won’t catch his friend hiding beneath your bed with no clothes on. 
“Okay?” he draws out the word, obviously confused as your eyes meet his. “I just wanted to say so-”
“We’ll talk about it later, Dad,” you try to smile and move towards him so that you shoo him away from your room.
“You sure?”
“Positive,” you affirm, putting your hand on top of the one he has wrapped around the side of the door and squeezing it reassuringly. 
“If you say so,” Tony lets go of the door, spinning on his heel and starting to stroll down the hall. You let go of the breath that you weren’t aware you were holding. “And give Bucky back his shirt!”
A laugh bubbles up in your chest as your heart warms watching your dad throw a wink at you over his shoulder, knowing that the choppy seas have stilled and the water’s calm once again, the tide returning to its regular routine. You shut the door with a click before turning back to see Steve sitting casually with his back resting against the side of your bed.
“So, uh,” a cheeky smile graces his face. “Same time tomorrow or?”
tagged: @literaturefeen @evnscvll @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18​
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themculibrary · 3 years
Text
Pepper And Tony (Pepperony) Masterlist 2
part one
5 Valentine's Pepper and Tony didn't Spend as a Couple +1 They Spent as a Family (ao3) - Kizmet Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Pepper and Tony's relationship going through ups and downs over six valentines between 1994 and 2021 (and Rhodey keeps sneaking in somehow).
5 Ways Pepper Fails to Stop the Civil War +1 Where She Does (ao3) - Kizmet Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Versions of the Civil War in which Pepper is fully engaged in the Avengers’ decision making process, corrects most of Tony’s mistakes and everything still goes to shit because she only has influence over half the equation.
A Slice of Life (ao3) - sareliz Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Witness the beginning of the relationship between Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.
Between the Darkness and the Stage (ao3) - marinarusalka Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: When Tony goes missing and the authorities can't help, Pepper does what she must to rescue him. As it turns out, the rescue was the easy part.
Box of Memories (fanfiction.net) - Elizabeth Bathory Rating: General
Summary: Tony denies being nostalgic but Pepper proves otherwise when he is away and learns more about the man she has worked for and loved, using this info for a surprise for Tony.
Drawing Near To Your Heart (fanfiction.net) - NCISVILLE Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Pepper just broke up with her boyfriend and needs a plus one pronto for her brother's wedding. When she enlists the help of her boss, Tony Stark, will they draw closer together like he wants?
Drive (ao3) - roboticonography Rating: Mature
Summary: Tony and Pepper attempt a friends-with-benefits relationship. It goes about as well as you’d expect.
Eden in a Box (ao3) - cincoflex Rating: Explicit
Summary: Tony and Pepper work at a relationship, with Jarvis' help.
Five Times Pepper Potts Took Care of Tony Stark (and One Time Tony Stark Took Care of Her) (ao3) - zauberer_sirin Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: In Pepper's defense she really did try to keep things professional.
i fell for mantle photographs (ao3) - imgoingtocrash Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Tony assumes that their relationship will leak to the press with some sort of scandal. (Okay, so specifically he says that it will be after their first fight as a couple goes explosive and that the pictures of Pepper throwing things at Tony’s head outside of his mansion will be mocked on TMZ for a few weeks, but that’s the gist.)
Pepper assumes that their relationship will never actually be released to the press. Tony is a notorious flirt as it is, and since her promotion to CEO, everyone already thinks she slept with him to get the position. Of all the things the press could possibly speculate about them, the fact that they’re actually working on forming a committed relationship seems far too mild.
The actual first picture released of Tony and Pepper after that first kiss above the raging fires of what was left of Stark Expo is something far less dramatic.
AKA: 5 pictures that are taken of Tony and Pepper recently after they get together + 1 picture they take for themselves.
inches and miles (ao3) - jdphoenix Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Nine times out of ten Tony's the one taking advantage when Pepper gives him an inch. But when they both slip up in the one way that matters most, fate takes the reins, taking them both that extra mile and then some.
Like It Never Happened (ao3) - MelissaBosquez Rating: General
Summary: When Tony and Pepper get stranded alone in Colorado after a long (mostly) working weekend they learn more about the other in one night than in the five years they spent working together. Not only that but they discover there may be the possibility for more for them in the future. What started as the weekend from hell blossoms into something unexpected and life changing.
OR
There was only one bed. - "Hey, Pepper. Want to make out?"
My Best Friend's Baby (fanfiction.net) - Snoot37 Rating: Mature
Summary: The followup story to "And the Party Continues." Tony and Pepper have finally had their first night together. But the next morning, Tony is too hungover to remember. Hurt, Pepper was prepared to pretend it never happened and never mention it to him again. Until the positive pregnancy test. What happens when she tells Tony it was someone else?
Pepper Potts and the Mysterious Soulmate (ao3) - FriendLey Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: Based on the tweet that said “Soulmate AU where wizards and witches have each other’s patronus tattooed on their bodies. The tattoos show the emotions that your soulmate is feeling.”
The days we don’t know yet (ao3) - everythingispoetry Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: After the battle of New York Tony can't sleep. It takes Pepper a few weeks to notice and when she does, she tries to help him as much as possible. Everything seems to go well until Tony is kidnapped - and when he comes back, Pepper realizes that he might react to his name and look like himself, but he is not Tony anymore.
the last five years (ao3) - tonystarktrash Rating: Mature
Summary: “Oh, Tony,” Pepper murmurs, cupping his face in her hands. She always knew what to do, had known him for so long that all of his idiosyncrasies were second nature to her. After New York, when his nightmares had woken her with terrible screams, she had learned when to touch him and when to comfort him with only words. He’s so starved for her touch, he wonders if he’s giving off some sort of signal to her, like a neon sign. Touch me, Pepper. Touch me, and help me survive, help me come to terms with this.
filling in tony and pepper's five years of bliss in avengers:endgame.
Walking in These Shoes (ao3) - redfiona Rating: General
Summary: Pepper Potts is the woman she'd always wanted to be. It's probably not all Tony's fault that her well-ordered life has just been blown to pieces. But it's definitely mostly his fault.
You're All I Have (fanfiction.net) - xxhiphuggersxx Rating: Teen And Up
Summary: She couldn't believe she was going to do this. It was hard enough asking for favors when it was work related, but it was a whole new ball game when it was a personal favor. She knew he'd never agree, but it is worth a shot asking. Nevertheless is she shocked at the response.
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electrictoes · 3 years
Text
All We Are
For @dailysvu’s Sonny Carisi Week
Day 4:  “What is this between us?  Relationship: Amanda Rollins  / Sonny Carisi​
Read on AO3
They don’t define this thing between them - it just is.
After a week, Sonny thinks maybe they should - but he’s so happy, and he doesn’t want to break this calm comfort they’ve found in each other by putting labels on things that have never needed to be labelled before.
Everyone around them is so curious though; other people want it defined. And it shouldn’t matter - shouldn’t be anyone’s business but their own. But it isn’t that simple. Their friends and family make no secret of the fact that they've been waiting for this almost as long as he has.
He skipped out on most of Memorial Day weekend with his family for the first time in his life - only putting in an appearance in his parents’ backyard late on Monday afternoon, a white lie on his lips; that he’s been stuck at work - a lie his mother sees through in an instant.
He can’t stop checking his phone; types and deletes a message to Amanda - an I miss you that he can’t bring himself to send, because it’s so ridiculous. He sends her a photo of the backyard filled with family instead, and smiles down at his phone when she sends him a photo back - the girls at the park, ice cream cones in their hands, sprinkles and chocolate sauce already trailing down Billie’s arm.
He tries to duck out of sight to call her a little later, but his mother catches him as he creeps up the stairs to his childhood bedroom; she stands at the foot of the stairs, hands on her hips, a scolding frown on her face - he hears the Dominick before she says it, and slinks back down to the hallway without a word, thinking about how he’s a prosecutor and he faces tougher opponents than his mother on a daily basis, but no one can reduce him to his thirteen year old self like she can.
His mom doesn’t let him slip back out to the party, her grip on his arm is firm as she tugs him into the kitchen, “Alright, out with it,” she says and he feigns confusion.
“I don’t-”
“It’s either a girl, or it’s something bad,” she says, arms crossed over her chest, a shadow of worry on her face. “And your sister told me you broke up with-”
Sonny sighs, resisting the urge to fold his own arms. He hadn’t actually told Bella that at all, just relayed one of the many arguments he and Nicole had had before they’d called it quits, but he wasn’t surprised that she’d drawn her own conclusions. “Bella needs to stop gossipin’ about me.”
“Tell me.”
“There’s nothin’ to-”  His mother fixes him with a look that would have had him running to his bedroom as a kid; he resists the urge to bolt now. “It’s new,” he says, and because his mom doesn’t so much as blink, he adds. “Rollins.”
There’s a part of him that’s almost giddy at the way she reacts - the way her posture softens and she smiles up at him. He enjoys it for half a second before the questions start coming in thick and fast - he deflects, but she ploughs on.
“So the two of you are-”
“Figuring that out,” he says. He listens to her as she talks about not wasting time, tells him he’s not getting any younger, reminds him his grandmother’s engagement ring is still sitting in her jewellery box upstairs just waiting for him to need it.
“Way too far ahead of yourself, Ma,” he says - too far ahead but still visible there on the horizon.
The closest they come to having the what is this? conversation in those early days is the is this a secret? conversation.
“I don’t want it to be,” Sonny admits, “But if you wanna wait until-”
“Until what?” Amanda asks him, “I’m sure,” she says. “If you are.”
They’re on the couch, the girls fast asleep down the hall and her feet resting in his lap; it’s casual and domestic and not really all that different from the way things have always been, but he lets himself take it in, appreciate the way his world is changing. He rests his hands on her shins as he smiles over at her, “I’m sure,” he says. And that’s it.
Everything left unsaid passes between them in looks, kisses, and touches. They don’t need more.
They don’t advertise it; there’s a time when they’ll have to - disclosure paperwork and conversations about professionalism and objectivity as though they haven’t been managing just fine up until now. But Sonny’s diligent - he’s checked the paperwork - he might have checked the paperwork over a year ago, when she’d left him at his desk with a sad smile and he’d spent the next forty-eight hours kicking himself, only for a global pandemic to stop him calling in that rain check  - and he knows they have time.
They do arrive at the precinct together one Tuesday morning a couple of weeks in; he has a meeting scheduled with Liv first thing and he hasn’t been back to his own apartment in three days. They’re not so blatant as to hold hands, but they do work with some of the best detectives in the city, so it isn’t a surprise that they’re caught out within minutes.
Fin gives them look, but he doesn’t say anything. Sonny’s sure he’ll get a comment in at some point, but while everyone knows Fin enjoys a gossip way more than he lets on, he’s good at keeping his questions to himself until the moment that best suits him.
Kat doesn’t follow suit. She’s nothing but questions and Sonny tries to escape under the guise of waiting for the captain in her office, but Amanda grips his jacket sleeve, silently telling him not leave her.
“How long?” Kat asks, “And what exactly-”
“Our business,” Amanda says; she’s smiling at Kat, no malice in her tone, but no room for argument either.
Jesse get a pass. Because she’s Jesse. And because this affects her just as much as it does Sonny and Amanda. For the first two weeks of waking up to Uncle Sonny sleeping in Mommy’s bed she doesn’t ask any questions - it surprises him, because that first morning waking up beside Amanda his second thought had been that they would have to figure out how to explain his presence there to Jesse and Billie. When Jesse had raced into Amanda's bedroom, though, she had just greeted him like she was used to him being there, and he’d wondered if they’d ever actually need to sit them down and explain.
Eventually she does ask, one night after he’s tucked Billie into bed with a kiss so it’s just the three of them awake. He leans in the bathroom doorway while Amanda gives Jesse her bath. She’s been unusually quiet, and there’s a thoughtful look on her face, “Mommy,” she says after a while, blinking water out of her eyes as Amanda washes her hair, “Is Uncle Sonny your husband now?”
Amanda coughs as though she’s the one with a face full of water, turning to look at Sonny with a startled expression. He gives her a soft smile, but he doesn’t have the answers either.
“Not yet, baby,” she says, and Sonny can’t help the grin that comes over his face, however wide Amanda’s eyes go at her own words.
“You’ve gotta have a weddin’ first,” Sonny adds, and Jesse beams over at him; he sees a dozen questions forming, but Amanda pours more water over her head, rinsing out the shampoo and buying them more time in the same moment.
Once she’s out of the bath, dressed in her pyjamas and ready for bed, Jesse throws her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly, “I’m glad you’re gonna have a wedding with Mommy,” she says, and tips her head back for a goodnight kiss before skipping to her bedroom as though she hadn’t essentially just told him to get on with proposing to her mother.
Amanda’s mother shows up unannounced at her apartment one Sunday morning, and it’s Sonny who answers the door - not expecting Beth Anne Rollins to be standing in the hallway, an impatient look on her face. “Oh,” is all she says when she clocks sight of him, her gaze travelling down the worn t-shirt and pyjama pants he’s wearing, his bare feet on the wooden floor. She pushes past him into the apartment, not greeting him or stopping for breath, “What are you doing here? Amanda finally admit she’s got a thing for you?”
He closes the door behind her and follows, not answering her questions. Billie scrambles down from the dining table to run and hug her grandmother, abandoning the cereal he’s spent the last ten minutes trying to coax her into eating, while she’d stubbornly refused and told him she wanted garlic bread for breakfast.
“Where is Amanda anyway?” Beth Anne asks, turning to look at him again. He feels self-conscious with her gaze on him, the soft clothes, untamed hair, shoeless Sonny Carisi was reserved for Amanda - and by extension the girls - certainly not for his possible future mother-in-law.
“Takin’ Frannie for a walk,” he says, “Jesse’s gone too,” he adds unnecessarily.
Beth Anne nods, still eyeing him with suspicion as she reaches into her handbag and pulls out a lollipop for Billie, who grabs at it gleefully.
“No-” he starts, but Beth Anne is already unwrapping the treat, and he sighs as Billie puts it in her mouth. “She hasn’t finished her breakfast,” he sighs.
“And who says you get to tell me what my granddaughter can eat?” Beth Anne says, smiling indulgently at Billie.
Sonny shakes his head, “I’m gonna… if you’re here I’m gonna get dressed,” he slips away to the bedroom, taking jeans and a shirt from the drawer he now has in Amanda’s dresser. While he changes he hears the sounds of Amanda’s return - Frannie barking, Jesse yelling a greeting to her grandmother. He hears murmuring as Amanda questions Beth Anne’s impromptu visit, and when he returns Amanda and her mother are at opposite ends of the kitchen, Amanda leaning back against the counter with an unimpressed look on her face.
“And then he tries to tell me not to give Billie candy-”
Amanda shakes her head, “He's right. It’s barely 9am, Momma.”
“Well, is he your boyfriend now or not?”
“Momma,” Amanda starts, but cuts herself off when she spots him hovering just beyond the kitchen, she gives him a warm smile, “We’re together, that’s all that matters,” she says, meeting his eye - all she feels and all that goes unsaid held in her gaze for him to see.
They fill in the disclosure paperwork that evening; they don’t have to just yet; they’ve still got time, Sonny’s been keeping the deadline in his head, but Amanda leaves him on the couch and goes out into the entryway where her work bag is; she returns a moment later, a manila folder in her hands that she passes over to him as she sits down. The form inside is mostly filled out - all their basic information already there in Amanda’s handwriting, the only empty boxes are Date of Disclosure, and Nature of Relationship.
“Time to make it official?” he asks, and she pokes his arm gently.
“It’s already official, Carisi,” she says, “Unless you’re thinking otherwise.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head at her, “You got a pen?”
“We’ve got to decide what to write in that box,” she tells him tapping the Nature of Relationship box with the pen she’s just grabbed. “Whatever we’re calling this,” she gestures between the two of them.
“According to Jesse, I’m your future husband,” he says, only half-joking.
Amanda just laughs at him, “I think you’d need to write fiancé,” she says, “But you’re not getting off that lightly - you need to propose to me yourself,” she tells him; she glances away as she adds, “Not yet, though.”
Someday, he thinks, leaning over, a hand reaching for her face, turning her back towards him so that he can kiss her; she lets him, kissing him right back for a minute or so before she puts one palm to his chest, pushing him back from her, “Carisi, let’s finish this first.”
He sighs as he pulls away, but it’s worth it not to have missed the impatient smirk on her face.
“I got it,” he tells her, resting the sheet of paper on his knee as he adds one word to the empty box. Partners.
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uhthor · 3 years
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Liv,,, the Loki finale,,, a tragedy. I want to hear all of your rants about it and also fuck d*sney
hello sweetie it’s been almost 48 hours and i’m still in shock and disbelief that the finale was that messy but i’ll try my best!
first of all, kang was the highlight of the episode. yes, his chat was long and complicated but jonathan majors was very very good and i cannot wait to see more of him in the mcu!
second, loki himself was incredible as always, sylvie was incredible, mobius was incredible & hunter b-15 was incredible. i have qualms about how messy it all was in the end with ravonna and wtf she been off doing (why were the minute men in ohio finding her on earth? there was no real conclusion to that, no real ending to her storyline and hunter b-15’s self realisation and rebellion which annoyed me to no end) and the ending was a dumpster fire cluster fuck. all three of the shows have been so ambitious with their plotting in the first 3/4 of the series and then the finales are just trying to wrap up so many things that nothing gets the justice it deserves and they need to Stop That Right Now because they just fall FLAT and disappoint
but the k!ss...... literally ruined the whole thing for me. loki as a character went through so much growth in a six episode series and i couldn’t be prouder of the way he changed and learned to believe in himself and that he was worthy of happiness. it’s truly some of the best work we’ve seen with loki in the entire mcu in my opinion.
miss minutes offered him a place in the timeline where he kills thanos and rules asgard and the loki in episode one would have jumped at that opportunity quicker than anything. episode six loki shed a few tears and remembered that he was worth more than that. that the cause was worth more than that, that people other than himself were worth saving and rescuing from the tva.
is that not the most incredible growth for loki? is that not the best growth we have seen alongside his growth in ragnarok? his main reasoning for not killing kang was to be able to help others and for sylvie to be okay. the fact the writers turned all of the growth he had made due to meeting sylvie on its head and had them kiss will always be disgusting to me.
they set the series up so well for loki to discover self love and worth through meeting sylvie, especially in that he said he just wanted sylvie to be okay in episode six — to me it will always still stand that loki learned to love himself and believe in his own worth through discovering he cared about sylvie in a non romantic way and that it changed him as a person. seeing a storyline of loki learning to love himself after a decade in the mcu of being made to be so inferior to everyone else by the people around him would have been the biggest love letter to loki and to loki’s fans, and tom.
it’s just so unfair and sad that they went down the route that they did. loki and sylvie had such a good relationship, something i saw parallel loki and thor’s relationship in the last ten years, and after loki was taken from the timeline and never allowed to see thor ever again, something good and stable and healthy loki could have had in his life from then onward.
but noooooo they had to make it romantic. they had to make things weird and they had to throw away a relationship they’d built so nicely with loki and mobius, too. people keep claiming that it wasn’t a romantic kiss and that sylvie was doing it to manipulate him and hit him where it hurts but as i re-emphasise again... there are literally thousands of other ways she could have done that. she could have hugged him. she could have just straight up pushed him. she could’ve pulled a hans of the southern isles and cupped his face and THEN pushed him. there literally had to be no romance involved. it was a choice made directly by marvel to engage in a selfcest relationship. there’s no ambiguity about it.
it also irritated me that people were saying it was typical for loki to fall for himself. we’re seeing a loki in this series like we’ve never seen before. he is so afraid of being alone and very clearly hates himself so much that to me, i don’t think he’d ever fall for himself. yes, he’s narcissistic, but he’s acknowledged that it’s only covering his absolute fear of being alone. i don’t think in any given circumstance would loki fall for himself because he loves himself. loki doesn’t love himself, which is one of the tragedies that this series focused on and created a beautiful journey with.
by meeting sylvie and learning that he cares about her and that she cares about him and believes that she deserved her own happy ending made him realise that he also deserves that, too. that’s the greatest love story that marvel should have written in this series after all the shit loki has been through. having him loving sylvie because she replicates his own self love and wanting her to be okay and have a happy ending is the way it should’ve gone. they are the same person, variations of the same person. her name is literally sylvie laufeydottir. they’re practically siblings. musical composer for the show natalie holt has said and i quote that loki looks at sylvie like he looks at his mother. ?!!!??!!!!!!??!??!? they’re family and it’s so so fucking weird for them to be romantic. it just ruined all of the work and excellence they provided in the first five and a half episodes and it pissed me off so bad. marvel have the uncontrollable need to pair every m/f that speak to each other for more than five minutes (st*ggy), even if they have no chemistry (bruc*nat, st*ron), EVEN IF THEY ARE RELATED OR THE SAME PERSON but won’t touch same sex relationships with a barge pole. funny, that
i just wanted the finale to solidify all of this — loki finally learning to love himself and discover that he has self worth and cares for others after his journey through the mcu being one of pure pain and suffering. i just wanted it to make sense and set up something with a tiny bit of coherence but i left the series more confused than i have ever been and just angry and betrayed really.
obviously i will watch season two and can only hope that things are fixed (wtf is going on with ravonna, hunter b-15, where is kid loki and allokigator, was the k!ss truly romantic, will they denounce all the selfcest etc. etc.) and don’t even get me started on the ending with mobius... not a jet ski in sight just fucking suffering. like twelve of my mutuals predicted he’d have his memories wiped yet it wasn’t any less painful when i saw it happen. justice for wowki, the actual only good and coherent and healthy relationship to come out of this series </3
also can someone PLEASE tell me if they saw casey anywhere cause eugene cordero was credited but i never saw my boy ONCE! he deserved BETTER!!!!
ok think i’m done tldr: fuck the finale i am gay and confused
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