#but actually though i bought this flavor about a week BEFORE i watched the show and lemme tell ya

[uselesssomebody]

𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕟 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 - joel miller x reader

complete masterlist | joel miller masterlist

words || 𝟟.𝟝𝕜

summary || in which the reader's smile is a sight in the q.z.

a/n || i love him, your honor ➵ i'm watching the mandalorian so expect some fics on that soon! ➵ set before the show, so possibly canon divergent? no real main characters except the millers are a part of this ➵ i'm 90% sure i didn't accidentally spoil the show or game in this, except that ! news flash ! joel has a brother ig? ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/angst ➵ show-typical violence and graphic descriptions of blood and wounds

she hurt again. she always does, be it the dull ache of her shoulders, the burn of her calves or biceps, or her stomach - excruciatingly, about one week out of the month. this time, it was a headache, the damn thing feeling as though her head would split open if she didn’t do anything about it in the next few moments.

luckily, some superior being out there heard her silenced, wailing pleas, as she lifted her eyes to a figure approaching her. his hand was outstretched, and she was so glad to see her relief in his hands that she clutched it desperately, pulling it out of his grip.

“hello to you too.” he mumbled, a large smile quirked on his chapped lips. well, as large of one as you can have in this godforsaken q.z., anyways. he watched as she swallowed the painkiller immediately, not even bothering to grab the small bottle of water in her bag. had any other person taken the pills he’d so delicately procured without promise of goods on their own side, he’d probably have shot them.

but he knew her. and he knew she wouldn’t.

he leaned slightly against the crumbling brick wall shielding this particular back alley, taking note of the way her previously tensed features softened, until the furrow of her brow and clench of her jaw was replaced with a smile instead.

this one, though, was actually large - for even pre-pandemic standards. she was like that a lot - smiling, happy, excited. positive. it was a hard thing to come by nowadays.

“thanks, tommy.” she sighed, reaching into her bag quickly to return the favor. the box that came out was a bit greasy and moist, and the smell of good food hit tommy miller’s nose almost intrusively, not used to the smell after the past week of food that could be bought with ration cards. the q.z. may have provided sustenance, but flavor seemed the be considered just as bad as the fucking zombies in here.

in similar fashion, he takes it out of her hand, finding different, small seasoning and sauce packets, as well as a plastic wrapped container of chicken. he shut the box quickly, as if worried the meat would come alive and fly away, and she smiled at the hastiness of the action. her painkillers had been quickly packed away into her inner jacket pocket, and she’s quick to survey the surrounding.

“so, i’ll see you week after?” she nodded, as tommy began leaving.

“next sunday, noon!” he saluted at her, and she rolled his eyes.

joel had forgotten about the idea of good food until about two months ago - when his brother had returned with an odd smelling container. he wondered what on earth he’d been up to, not even letting tommy explain before he started unpacking it. the meat inside looked a little foreign, the grilled crust on it something he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“tommy, what the-”

“it’s good, ain’t it?” he had an excitable pep in his step, and joel raised an eyebrow.

“how’d - how’d ya even get this?”

“one of the smugglers - she brings in food from her trips.”

“where does she get it from?” tommy looked at him as though he was crazy.

“why the hell would she tell me, joel? what’s it matter, anyway, we got great food now!” joel - the older brother than he is - felt perturbed by tommy’s careless attitude, but shrugged it off.

“what’d you pay for it then? how many ration cards?” tommy waved him off.

“a bag of pills - painkillers. said she’d give me a box every two weeks for a bag of them.” joel shook his head, still apprehensive.

“painkillers are hard to come by, tommy, is it really worth it?” tommy didn’t respond.

it was, in fact, absolutely worth it. the brothers practically licked their plates clean that night, the taste of the still juicy chicken invading their senses after the past 7 months of mostly sloppy, shitty soups and broths.

she became a staple of their rounds, with tommy always making time to get painkillers for her, and to meet her. both brothers knew it was stupid to ‘pretend to enjoy the finer things in life’, as joel so cynically put it, but that didn’t stop their appreciation for the food.

as for her, those few months had been the first time she’d had steady supply to something to ease her pain.

truly, she didn’t know how she’d carried on so far in this pandemic, considering she used to be a school teacher before all of this. the most she’d had to deal with back then was maybe a rowdy kid or two - or worse, a rowdy parent. not zombies - or infected, whatever. not terrorists, vigilantes, raiders, the fucking feds. she was even more shocked that she’d adopted a lifestyle of smuggling, as opposed to being another menial laborer. hell, she’d been anti-gun before all of this, and now she’d go through fifteen magazines a week - on good weeks.

luckily, she was a good shot, or she supposed she’d be spending a lot less on painkillers, and a lot more on bullets. she attributed it all to the first person to pay attention to her in the q.z.

she was a bit older, the woman - maybe mid 40s at the time - but she was incredibly fit, lithe and agile. they were put on odd jobs by FEDRA all the time, and it took about four jobs before she - beth - realized they were always paired together. she’ll always remember the first thing she told her:

“you’d think they’d get a better bunch than us to do this shit.” she had gestured to the group, full of mostly the malnourished, young, and old. there were considerable overlaps in those groups, if you can imagine.

sure, that first sentence wasn’t indicative of what would have become a budding friendship, but beth was quick to take her under her wing. then, when the older woman made the switch to smuggling goods, she figured that her young friend would do good in joining her.

“i don’t know, beth, what if the feds find out?” her arms were crossed over her chest as she paced up and down beth’s tiny apartment.

“you’ve got me! c’mon, when have things ever gone wrong with me.” she could name a few, but she pursed her lips to stop herself.

“what would we even get?” beth’s eyes lit up at her slow succumbing.

“that’s just it! i have an old, old friend who’s got a farm maybe 20 miles from here. he’s got these big fences to keep out the infected, but he grows fresh fruit and - meat! can you believe it! he’s got cows and chickens, and-” she stopped herself from delving too far into her master plan, “if we smuggle in food, we can get extra ration cards, extra supplies, and maybe even trade for other things!”

the idea excited her, and she couldn’t hide it, with beth immediately picking up on the released tension in her step, and in the way her arms crossed.

“but how would i survive out there? i can’t even shoot a gun.” beth’s smile widened.

“that’s the best part, hun. i’ll teach you.”

and teach her, she did. by the time they started making the serious, 20 km hike to beth’s friend’s farm, she was more than comfortable with a firearm, using it to save their lives on more than one occasion.

the trips had become muscle memory to her. they’d travel to the farm, trade ammo for food, and then come back, and trade the food for ration cards, for cigarettes for beth, and for the occasional bottle of whiskey.

it had become such muscle memory, that they both made the journey themselves occasionally. she’d been particularly busy one week trying to wrap up a larger deal with a group of fireflies - or at least, what they used to be - for decent first aid supplies. beth had urged her to carry on, and reassured her than she’d be back within 2 days with more food.

she waited two days. then she waited two more. then she got worried.

it was risky, she knew, but she had to figure what had happened.

she’d taken the same route they always took, except something had changed. one of the buildings in which they constantly stashed goods - usually empty - was now littered with metal cartridges, blood splattered across the grimy walls. her eyes widened, confused at the scene, and so fixated in figuring it out that she nearly tripped over something.

not something, someone.

she lets out a soft gasp at the corpse, the hole in his head indicative of his fate. she looked at the bag next to him, a quick confirming her fear - raiders. she rushed into the building, seeing their hiding places all ransacked - the slot in the bookshelf, the one under the table, the one behind a painting. her eyes saw a trail of blood, and, following it, she saw beth’s glassy eyes looking back at her.

a sob broke from her before she could realize - as, though she’d hoped for anything, anything else, she knew what the fate of her good friend had been. beth’s abdomen had been scarred, her jacket flipped out as though someone had scoured her pockets. the blood on her shirt had become flaky and a deep brown, having oxidized in the past few days.

she fell beside her, wanting to grab her hands, but recoiling at the stiffness of them, at how cold they were. her hot tears felt like a sharp contrast, and it only repeated the same juxtaposition in her mind: she was alive, and beth was dead.

she’d made the trip herself that day.

and every day after that.

she didn’t speak to anyone for a few weeks. her deals occurred over the span of a minute, maximum, and she didn’t greet the teenagers that lived across from her anymore, or the elderly man who would give her her ration cards for the days work. she went back a few days later to revisit her.

she had flowers - as many wildflowers as she could find on the way, and she placed them beside her as she shut her eyes, wincing again at the cold of her skin. it had begun to smell horrible in there, with the place becoming infested with scavengers.

she knew how much beth loved nature - hell, it was half of the reason she wanted to do these runs - so she - with all the strength she could muster, brought her about a hundred meters out, under the largest tree in the vicinity. she was sure it was a fruit tree of some kind - apples, or pears, she couldn’t tell. she laid her down lightly, pushing the flowers into her form delicately. she rubbed her own nose, willing the restarting tears to simmer, before backing away, sitting in the soft grass and just thinking.

beth was a loving person. somehow, through every way this pandemic hardened her, she still loved. she’d point out pretty, fragrant flowers on their hikes, she’d dream up elaborate meals and outfits, she’d always walk with a small pep in her step. sure, she was ornery when she needed to be, but she didn’t see too much of that. she saw the way beth would laugh, would smile, and would sing. she was terrible at it, but it never stopped her.

above all, beth loved her laugh. she loved the way her face lit up at a dumb joke, or outlandish comment. at the snarky comments beth would make to her friend, or the satirical ones about FEDRA and other smugglers.

she supposed that that day had been some form of closure for her. and she thought she’d do the little she could in beth’s memor: smile.

she was hard to miss in the q.z. it didn’t help that she was always waving at tommy, a quick greeting of hello - though, one not exactly common anymore. no, the problem was that damn smile. a smile never hurt anyone, except, of course, resident cynic joel miller. it always made him feel off, somehow, unable to feel comfortable with the notion of this bright thing in this desolated town of despair.

worse, though, was that he knew it wasn’t fake. he wondered how in hell she could be enjoying seemingly everything. he always let tommy handle that trade, though he did appreciate the goods. a packet of painkillers had initially seemed a steep price for chicken, but he was quick to realize which one they came by more often.

tommy would always chastise him for his sour face. his brother was always the more carefree one, more relaxed. the perks of a younger sibling, joel was sure, but he never mentioned it much. tommy’d always smile back at her; in fact, since her, he seemed to be smiling a lot more.

it made joel roll his eyes, the both of them acting like everything was fucking peachy.

that week, tommy’d been pulled away for a deal gone awry - some guy had sold their supply before being able to pay them back for it. he had some vendetta against joel, so the only way they could salvage the situation was through his more socially able brother. he was clear when he’d left:

“noon, joel. back alley two blocks from the soup kitchen, alright?” joel had nodded, only slightly, as he enjoyed a late lie-in - for the first time in about three weeks.

though he wasn’t particularly keen, he got up at about 11:45, rinsing his face to wipe the remnants of sleep from his eyes, before leaving the place. it was only a few blocks away, so he walked casually, taking a moment to peer into the soup kitchen to see if they were serving anything a step above edible. ah, who am i kidding? he thought, reminding himself of the lovely chicken he was about to pick up.

what joel wasn’t aware of was how precarious this area was, as a FEDRA thug would be stationed to glance over the back alleys about every 15 minutes to see if there was anyone trying to steal food from the soup kitchen. thus, there was only about a 5 minute gap where there were no guards. she knew it, and she knew that tommy knew it, so she wondered where he was, knowing if he delayed too much longer their window would be lost.

she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, rolling her shoulders to just lightly relieve their pain. when she finally hear footsteps approaching, she breathed out a sigh, reaching quickly for her bag to shorten the time of the exchange.

“jesus, tom, what’re you doing? you know we can’t-” she was fumbling with the zipper of her bag, only realizing that it was in fact, not tommy when she looked up. her eyes widened for a moment, before she seemed to recognize him, her stance dropping a little from their tensed state, “j-joel? right?” he nods, silently, arms crossed, “do you have them?” he shrugged.

“let’s see what you have, first.” she paused for a moment, before realizing that he simply didn’t trust her.

“are you serious, man? look, we don’t have time for this-” she’s cut off by the crisp sound of boots on the floor, making her realize that their time had run out, “oh - shit-” she starts fumbling to close her bag and sling it back over her shoulder, and joel seems just a bit confused. that only increases when she grabs his hands, placing them on her hips, and pulling them further against the wall.

“what the hell-” she looks up at him with such earnest that he shuts up.

“i’m sorry, just trust me.” she whispers it on his cheek, their faces only a few centimeters from each other. he sharply nods, just as she realizes that the soldier was turning the corner. she stood just a bit taller, craning her neck so that her face was parallel to his, and wrapping her arms over his shoulders.

he was pulled into her lips, the momentum causing him to dig his fingers just a bit deeper into her hips, and his mouth moving a little viciously against her own. he hadn’t done this in a long time. he was sure his actions were a little shaky, and he reminded himself of the fact that she was only doing this to make sure that the guard wouldn’t find out about worse, more nefarious dealings.

but, god, she tasted nice. he wasn’t sure where exactly she would find fresh mint to chew on, but he figured it must be from the same place she got her chicken.

his beard felt just a bit prickly against her chin, and his lips were a bit chapped, but the way he was grasping onto her hips right now made her forget all of it. she knew the act he was putting up was pretty masterful, but that didn’t stop it from feeling good. the warmth of his body had even managed to make forget about the various pains in her joints.

“hey! what the fuck is going on here?” the sharp shout of the guard made them break away, but just slightly, and she feigned an expression of scandalized shock at seemingly being caught in such a heated moment. joel ‘recovered’ faster than she did, separating from her and clearing his throat.

“nothing! nothing, man.” he held his palm up in surrender, and the guard glanced over the both of them with keen, suspicious eyes. though, upon seeing the way the back of her hair was messed up from being placed by the wall, the way his clothes had bunched up near his shoulders, and her around her hips, and that both of them seemed a bit flustered and out of breath, he stepped back, gesturing them to come out.

“do not do it again. you’re not allowed in this area, yeah?” she timidly nodded, and joel mumbled a gruff thanks, the both of them reintegrating into the busier street. she keeps her eyes fixed to her feet, hands stuffed in her pockets.

“guess i’ll just got to yours - give it to you there.” she suggested, not knowing how else she’d be able to make the exchange.

“huh? yeah, yeah - okay.” joel was still just slightly shaken up by the encounter - both at how easy it was to convince the guard of his supposed intention of simply wanting to feel the warm touch of another - and how much of it was just an act. when he glanced at her glassy eyes, his gaze ghosted over her pigmented lips, having become brighter in their color due to the intensity of their actions.

he’s happy that his apartment’s so close, as he worries what would happen if he continued to ponder on it. the door’s lock is rusted to high heaven, but he fishes out his key, unlocking the door and swinging it open. he gestured for her to go in from of him, before closing the door again.

her eyes flit over the apartment: the shoddy couch and bookshelf just adjacent of the twin bed, and the rickety dinner table closer to her. it looked a lot like hers, really, save for the large radio placed between the couch and bed, making it seem as though as it was particularly important. hey, painkillers were her way of coping with their situation; maybe music is theirs?

joel patted the front of his pocket, before reaching two fingers into it, plucking out the painkillers, and placing them on the table in front of the both of them. she looks between the bag and him once, before smiling softly, realizing that his trust for her had obviously grown since just 10 minutes ago in the alley. she reaches into her own, pulling out the familiar box and placing it in front of her, before replacing the spot in her bag that had previously held it with the bag of painkillers.

as she’d placed it down in front of her, she’d let out a short exhale, the ghost of a laugh.

“considering that exchange, you should really enjoy this chicken, miller.” a smile had continued to dance on her lips, until she’d looked up to see his rigid face: pointed stare piercing into hers, his stance as reclusive as possible, his hands crossed tightly over his chest. her face also sobered a little, averting her gaze in the slightest confusion.

“you smile a lot.” he almost mumbles it, but the accusatory undertone in the pointed statement, makes her double-take, looking up at him with furrowed brows. her mouth hangs open as she formulates a response - unsure of what really to say to that.

“i’m sorry, solemn joel miller, for smiling?” she attempts a joke, but it’s directed at him, confused at the man’s distaste for such as simple thing. he shakes his head lightly, looking away and deciding to take the box off the table to have something to do with his hands.

“that’s not what i meant.”

“no, please! tell me what you did mean.” she knew it was also stupid to get defensive so quickly, but so much of that part of her was influenced by beth, that she couldn’t help but feel a small attack on her friend’s character as well.

“just - look around us, alright? their ain’t exactly a great world out there that you’re smiling for, and the little miss sunshine thing you do - it’s boring-”

“little miss sunshine?” she had completely stilled in her place, astonished by the fucking gall, “just cause everyone doesn’t want to hate every single part of their life, you fucking cynic.” she angled her body away from him, her rage evident in every movement. she wanted to rip into him - truly - but knowing it’d do nothing more than hurt her voice, she decided against it, snatching the painkillers off of the desk, and walking back out of the door, closing - or, really slamming - it behind her.

tommy had laid into joel after another two weeks, when, after his recent meeting with her, she had made it evident that she would not be dealing through joel again.

“what the hell d’ya say to her, man? have you seen her, joel? she never gets mad at anyone and you managed to piss her off in, what, 15 minutes?” joel took the berating with a seemingly bored expression, but he’d also wondered if his crass attitude had gone too far when he last spoke to her.

it was just that damn smile.

he didn’t even know why it effected him so much, but he couldn’t help it - every time he saw that damn smile, he couldn’t think about anything else but it.

it was a distraction - and that’s why it annoyed him, he was sure. but, a part of him seemed almost scared at the effect she had on him, but that part was not something he’d be addressing anytime soon.

besides, he hadn’t really had to see it much after that, as she’d gone out of her way to not only avoid him, but to make her expression neutral should his paths crossed. and, well, though he felt like a bit of a dick, he though that would have been the end of it.

until he realized that he missed it.

they didn’t speak for the next few months. they hadn’t spoken before, either, but maybe it felt a little weirder considering they’d practically felt each up against a wall previously. though, she didn’t let the strange hiccup deter her from her work - or her smile, continuing to do so in every opportunity that she could.

her and tommy still spoke, and him - being obviously the more emotionally intelligent brother - didn’t even really bring up joel all that much in their conversation. she’d always felt a wave of memory hit her whenever she waited in that alleyway, but she never had time to dwell on it as, contrary to his brother, tommy was always on time.

she had finally returned to that state of comfort that she had felt when beth was still alive, in no part helped by her recent friendships with a neighbor or two. there was an older man in the building across from her, who was very sweet - finding a small joy by gardening, of all things. he had just the smallest pot with a sunflower growing in it, but he had cherished it like it was his baby. she had thought that it was beautiful, and though she felt that the weather always seemed a little cloudy and grey, she found a new appreciation for the sunlight that was there when she’d see the sunflower greedily soaking it up, standing proud, through the crack in her neighbor’s door.

life had been so incredibly decent, that she had forgotten it was simply a calm before a storm, just as her friendship with beth had been.

it had started in the middle of the night. one of the many smugglers in the q.z. had been infected on a run - not wanting to give himself up to his companions, and sneaking back in under the shadow of night.

that group was the first to go, and by the next day, she was woken up to the sound of blaring FEDRA alarms, jolting up so hard that she hit her shin. she paused for just the slightest of moments, trying to comprehend what was being said.

“-infected in the quarantine zone-” was all she had to hear to leap to her feet, grabbing the bag that always sat by the edge of her bed, and immediately grabbing anything and everything that she could. when she finally through her door open, she realized that she was late to the party, as all of those in her building had already deserted it.

she could barely step out of the building when she heard the heavy gunfire. considering the resources FEDRA had put into this q.z. they evidently refused to go out without a fight, and as she looked at the other side of the street, she could see a small group of them, evident by their pale faces and slightly jagged movements, mouth’s curled to create those inhumane growls. she stumbles just slightly, ducking behind her building in order to escape their view. she knew of an exit that wasn’t going to be FEDRA monitored on the other side of the q.z., but she knew that journey was dangerous at best right now.

she moved slowly, relying on small spaces between buildings and back alleys in order to move. she could hear screams - human and infected - and incessant gunfire, making her ears ring.

she was so close to getting out of here, only having to cross the large expanse between FEDRA and the infected. it was risky - and that was putting lightly, but there wasn’t really another way out of here.

she slung her bag as comfortably as she could, seeing a small blockade in the middle that she could duck under before booking it the rest of the way.

so, she ran.

and she made it to the blockade, uninjured. the bullets had whizzed around her, and she wondered if she’d make it another time. she caught her breath, and turned her head to gauge the rest of the distance.

when she did, though, she saw her neighbor - her eyes widening - as she realized that he was attempting something similar to her. time practically slowed down as she heard the exact bullet that would hit him, making him crumple to his knees.

her inhibitions practically disappear, as she forgets everything, running forward without care in order to see if she could help him. the bullet had hit his chest, and his breathing labored as she pulled him up just lightly, mumbling anything and everything she could to console him through his pain.

she couldn’t do this again - she couldn’t see someone else she cared about dead. this time, at least, she had the opportunity to help, so she would regardless of the negative consequences for herself.

then again, that is what many who don’t realize the consequences would say.

they was so close to being out of their range, but one of the stray bullet pierced her thigh as she attempted to help him his up. her knees buckle, the searing pain hitting her after a moment of just nothing, and she feels her grip on him dissolve, the both of them falling.

she keeled over him, taking off her sweater and wrapping it around her thigh, before turning to him, having to crawl slightly forward with her limp leg in order to properly look at him.

she could see it - she could see him dying, his labored breathing nothing more than a prolonging of the inevitable. nonetheless, she scrunched up the fabric in that area, desperately attempting to stop the bleeding, but it was too little, too late. he suddenly grabbed her wrist, something she felt before she saw, as the tears welling in her eyes were detrimental to her vision.

“my - my flower, did you see it?” she nods, she nods so hard that she feels her head’ll fall off.

“’f course, of course - it was so pretty - the best thing in the building.” she was rambling, hoping to remind of something happier than his current predicament. but she didn’t need to. the recognition for his hard work had been more than enough, and she felt his sighs become longer and deeper, before his stopped moving altogether.

she brought her hands to her face, desperately trying to control her tears, but they just wouldn’t stop. futilely, she crawled up against one of the buildings, knowing that she’d suffer the same fate, as when she attempted to place even the slightest pressure on her thigh, she had to muffle her screams of pain in her hand.

when she hears her name being called, she’s sure she’s misheard it, keeping her head down, and continuing to wipe her eyes.

but, she hears it more clearly, and she knows it wasn’t her imagination anymore, so she looks up, and sees joel looking down at her with the most severe look of concern he’d ever exhibited in front of her.

“jesus - what-” as he approaches her, he sees the makeshift bandage on her thigh, and the glossy tears on her face, “you got-” he can’t finish the sentence, and she nods almost a little pathetically. he gives her a quick once over, before grabbing her bag and slinging it over his larger shoulders, making it seem very small. her mouth falls open, believing he’d taken it in order to scavenge supplies off a dying body. her breathing falters at the inhumanity of the actions, before she feels his arms encapsulate her frame: one behind her back and one under her knees, “you can’t walk, can you?” the shock renders her speechless, so she opts to nod instead, and he tightens his grip on her slightly.

it’s an odd sensation, being lifted off of the ground, especially since she’d never felt it before. her thigh strained slightly against gravity, making her exhale deeply, a hiccup remaining as a remnant of her sobs, but she knew this pain was still far more bearable than her attempting to walk.

“put your arms-” she realizes that he’s still talking to her, using the minimal movement his head was now capable of to help her put her arms around his neck, taking some weight off of his forearms. she obliges, tentatively wrapping her arms over, before turning her head slightly forward and seeing the body of her dead neighbor just a few meters away.

she chokes for a moment, a mix of a gasp and a cry escaping her - and it flusters joel, making to him turn his head slightly as well, upon recognizing what she was looking at, he sighed. the heartbroken expression on her face made even him upset, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to soothe her.

“just - damn - just keep your eyes on me, okay? you don’t have to see all that.” she looks up at him, shocked by the sweetness of the comment, before nodding slightly, breathing quickly to calm her tears. he begins moving, and she sticks to his word, alternating between looking up at him, and resting her head by instead looking at the flannel he had on. when she would look at his face, she could see the tinge of worry breaking through his stoic exterior, as he attempted to keep moving despite his somewhat debilitating cargo - her. she’d wince when he’d turn too sharply, or jolt to a stop, and though she attempted to keep her winces and whimpers to a minimum, his brows would furrow each time in worry, and he would glance down at her to make sure the pain wasn’t too bad.

he’d begin shouting tommy’s name at some point, and though it took only another 5 minutes for him to rejoin his brother, it had felt like an agonizing eternity to joel. tommy stood shocked at the scene: he cared for her, but he didn’t know joel did. at least, not enough to carry her across the q.z., by any means.

“what the hell? is she-”

“shot, her thigh. we gotta get out of here - is the tunnel open?” tommy, still a bit shocked, nods, mouth hanging open, as he opened the door of the building they were standing in front of. there three of them - two, she supposed, with her in tow - made their way up to the third floor, and tommy practically kicked open one of the apartment doors. it wasn’t difficult - its previous owner had obviously left in a hurry as well. he bolts to the other side of the room, as she takes one arm off joel’s shoulder to slam the door shut behind him. a great creaking came from in front of her, and she craned her neck to see tommy moving several loose floorboards, and opening up a heavy metal hatch with a distinct, grinding pop under them. he holds it open as joel and her near it, and, when their standing in front of it, she realizes the tunnel is about 2 meters deep - maybe a little less - with a short ladder allowing easy movement.

joel worries it’s far too large a fall for her. he sets her back to her feet as gently as possible, and she immediately places as little weight on one of her legs as possible.

“here, hold her.” he takes her my her arm, resting most of her body weight on him, and helps her over to tommy, who keeps her steady with one hand as he holds the hatch open with the other. joel’s quick to scale down the ladder, before he turns his head up to look at the both of them, “you’re gonna have to jump.” her eyes widened at the idea, not believing that she’d get off the ground, much less survive the jump.

“i-what?” joel holds his hands out, and when her eyes flick up to tommy, he nods solemnly - as it was their only option.

“i’ve got ya.” she breathes deeply, squaring her shoulders, before lowering as softly as she can to her feet. as she dangles her thigh over the edge, it squeezes it, and she lets out a sharp cry that make’s both brothers wince. she uses her hands to lever her body forward, before she closes her eyes, her breath stilling.

then, she jumps, and the moment of free-fall consumes her, her body feeling as though she’s floating. and, as quickly as it occurs, it stops, when she feels joel’s arms wrap around her lower back, effectively breaking her fall before she hit the hard dirt. she uses her hands to stabilize herself when he sets her down, clutching far too tightly onto his shirt, feeling as though she was still falling. he reciprocates, sensing her obvious worry, and pulls her close to his torso, letting her ease her breathing. in a few more moments, tommy’s managed to cover up the majority of the entrance and come down. he takes her bag off joel’s shoulders.

“want me to help her?” he offers, not exactly sure how long his brother had been carrying her, but knowing that a break may have been appreciated either way.

“i’ve got her.” it’s a sharp response, and it makes tommy furrow his eyebrows, confused by the tone. he doesn’t dwell on it, though, as joel’s picked her up again, and she’s buried her face into the crook between her and his chest.

it was a long trip through the long tunnel, but, when tommy finally opened the latch on the other side, she greedily looked up at the sun for the first time that cloudy morning, so enthusiastic that when she next blinked, she could see sun spots.

it’s just a short walk from there to one of the many houses that smugglers camped in overnight on longer trips. it was a bit dingy - but at least decently clean. the last time joel had been here, smashed glass from beer bottles had littered the floor, as did some rotting food.

there was only a couch and a bed, and joel sets her down on the couch as tommy checks their inventory.

they’re ridiculously low on supplies: enough food for only one meal, and neither enough weapons, ammo or supplies in the case of an unexpected visitor.

“shit - i’ll go over to c.v.s., see if they have anything.” there was a rundown c.v.s. just a short walk from this house that had been practically stripped by the time tommy and joel had first come by it. they’d, therefore, found it to be a perfect place to stash some supplies, as many would refuse to look too far upon seeing the initial emptiness, assuming that it had been picked clean. joel doesn’t even acknowledge the sentence until he hears the door click shut.

he’s looking down at her haggard form, and, seeing that her sweater had practically soaked through in blood, he reaches for their first aid.

at least the blood was a bit old, the pressure on the wound stopping the majority of the bleeding. joel grabs the crude tweezers, stretching them so that they could comfortably pluck out the bullet lodged in her flesh. she can see the dead expression on her face, showing her obvious disassociation from her painful sensation. a pillow still remained on the couch - shockingly - so he handed it to her, instructing her to bite down on it to forget some of the pain.

she looks at him with renewed worry, unsure of how decent an anesthetic biting would be. he places his palm lightly on the knee of her injured leg, hoping to keep it in place, as he removes the sweater. the wound made her gasp, the flesh having been mangled lightly due to the rough conditions. he lifted her chin up, urging her to instead look at the ceiling. her eyes flutter, and she can feel tears glass over her eyes when she feels the metal of the tweezers ever so lightly graze her skin.

“i’m - i’ve gotta take it out, okay?” she doesn’t nod, but she doesn’t protest either, so he takes it she understands, and he lightly pulls at the skin to make the wound larger, in order to more quickly pluck out the bullet. she whimpers around the pillow, biting hard already, and he lowers the tweezers.

she can feel them inside her skin, and she uses her hands to squeeze the pillow as well, her screams becoming more distinct, loud.

“you’re good, you’re good, you’re doing good-” joel doesn’t even know how to console someone, but he tries his level best, praising her endlessly as he swiftly, but meticulously pulls out the bullet. the blood restarts, practically spurting out of her leg, and she can feel the liquid over her skin, weaving around her hair follicles as she desperately attempted to keep her leg still. he places a cloth over it, before replacing it with gauze immediately, allowing the material to soak up the blood. the pain still consumed her, but it turned from sharp to more dull. she drops the pillow, along with her hands. they were both panting, but their breathing slowed, as they realized that the stress was less in that moment. he keeps a firm hand on her thigh, and she lets her head drop against the couch.

in another few minutes, he reminds her that he still needs to stitch her up. it hurt like a bitch too, but nothing trumped the feeling of the bullet leaving her body. he made swift work of the procedure, and she wondered how many times he’d had to do it.

when he’d finished, he lowered his arms, breathing a deep, relieved, and contemplative sigh as he sat back a little, taking weight off of his own legs. though her leg was stitched up, she was fully against the idea of getting up, so she relegated herself to getting comfortable on the couch. joel also got up after another few moments, placing the first aid back in her bag, before taking a look around the house - seeing if any previous visitors had forgotten any supplies.

they had, as an unopened ziplock of crackers sat in one of the kitchen cabinets. it hadn’t been here last month when they’d previously stopped by, and the opened the container, inspecting it carefully to see if it was alright to eat. he took a small bite and, determining that it was alright, he walked back over to the couch.

she had lightly adjusted to the side as he had neared, so he relaxed into the cushion next to her, trying not to invade her space. he handed her a cracker, which she graciously accepted. she hadn’t realized how hungry she was, not having eaten since the previous night.

“it’ll make you feel better,” he’d mumbled, as he handed it to her, and she breathed a quiet thank you in response. they sit in a silence only broken by the crunching of the crackers, and she finds herself ever so subtly glancing at the man next to her.

he looked tired, which was understandable, and his hard expression remained on his face. the severity of it reminded her of their only prolonged conversation - which was truly more of an argument.

“why - why did you help me?” it’d been a question plaguing her since he had so delicately patched her up - a far cry from the man who had condemned her for as little as smiling.

his brow furrows at the question, as he’d not been accepting it.

“what? you were bleeding out on the street - i couldn’t just leave you.” she let the explanation mull in her head, before shaking it.

“no - so many people were like that, but you only helped me. why?” he turned his body just slightly to face her, a bewildered expression on his face.

“did you not want me to?” she immediately protests.

“no! i mean - i’m grateful. honestly, i’d have been dead hours ago had it not been for you. it’s just-” suddenly, his stare felt too intense, and she averted her eyes, “you always gave off the impression that you didn’t like me.” she shrugs, hoping it’s a sufficient explanation. it seems to be, as he goes silent. then, he breathes deeply.

“i do - i do. tommy likes you, so i’ll like you.” it’s a diplomatic answer, and she realizes it, but she decides to nod instead of probing further.

“alright, well - thank you.” she goes to smile, but stops herself, “i’m allowed to smile, yeah?” she means it as a half-joke, but he finds a lot of amusement in it, looking at her quizzically, before laughing at the comment. she’d never even seen him crack a smile, much less a laugh.

it was a nice change of pace.

“please do. you haven’t done it since morning - i was starting to get concerned.” though her previous smile may have been one of politeness, this one comes from the sarcastic nature of the comment.

the quirk of her lips gave him some peace, his mind having been racing with worry over her for the past few hours. maybe it was distracting, but he supposed everyone needs a little bit of that.

and if it comes in the form of a pretty smile - even better.

#joel miller #joel miller oneshot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us hbo #the last of us #that damn smile #pedro pascal

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 13

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1430

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 13

When Dean put that sandwich down in front of you, you weren't entirely sure what to think, as it almost sounded like he demanded you eat. So, you only mumbled a thank you, not even looking up at him. You were only a case, after all, you reminded yourself.

As you ate the sandwich, which wasn’t bad, you continued reading the book in front of you. You mostly knew about demons, as you had had to ward your property from them and your truck. The book in front of you only had minor information on Pari. You weren’t entirely sure how it was helpful, either. It talked more about soulmates, and it was hard to get through since it was something you didn’t believe in.

To you, soulmates was something from a fairy tale. The things in the book in front of you only made you roll your eyes. It explained that Pari needed to find their soulmate, and sometimes it took lifetimes before they found them. The book also states that a Pari’s soulmate wasn’t always human. Sometimes, it was a vampire, demon, ghoul, even angels weren’t immune to this sort of thing. Then, there were the rare instances where a Pari’s soulmate was another Pari. 

When Dean spoke, you glanced up and watched the two of them, although barely, and neither of them noticed. You knew what parts they were reading and were confident they would figure out what you were attempting to find information on.

You quietly groaned at the information you’d read as you closed the book and got up, heading to the bookshelves. Since the whole soulmate thing was stupid and implausible, you went to find out what powers angels and demons had. They had to have several books on both creatures with the vast library available to them.

When Sam offered his help, it surprised you a little, but you didn’t show it. You were casual and nonchalant with your answers to his questions, even friendly with your smile and expression. After Sam had pulled the stack of books he had, you returned to your seat, just grabbing the one off the top.

The explanations he gave you while you read were helpful and reminded you of demon powers you’d seen them use over the years. The tidbit Dean gave you was something interesting, though, and you debated attempting that one that night.

You soon realized the current book had nothing useful, so you closed it and moved it to the side. Looking at the stack, you concentrated on the information you were after, angel powers, and a book near the center caught your eye. You then carefully pulled it out and began reading it.

When you took a sip of the soda after closing the first book, you were surprised at how close it resembled store-bought soda. You knew you’d have to work on that one, perfecting the flavor of something you created.

Every time they spoke to you, you didn’t look up at them. After all, you were just their case, and you kept reminding yourself of that. You did stay cordial with your tone and your responses, though.

The more you read and learned about the powers that you possessed, the more you began figuring out how to exhaust yourself like the very first book had explained to do. The part that bothered you is it didn’t say how long it would take to do that before your powers would fully awaken. 

You had no intentions of helping the King of Hell with anything. You just wanted to figure out how to keep yourself safe without having to constantly relocate. As you read the book about angel powers, it was more detailed, giving you powers based on the rank of the angel. That helped, but you weren’t sure what powers you were capable of using or having. Too bad the first book hadn’t been more specific.

As Dean got up and headed to the kitchen, you barely looked out of the corner of your eye to watch him. Then your eyes shifted to Sam, who was reading another book, although different from the one with the information on soulmates. When he, too, got up and went to the kitchen, you finally looked up from your book and sighed.

You knew you’d have to find a way to get outside to practice some of the more intense powers the first book had mentioned. Although, now was not the time for that. Perhaps after the two went to bed. You also took a moment to stretch, as you had been sitting there for several hours. Hell, most of the day. 

That was when an idea came to you. Could you learn the information the books held without reading them? You glanced at the stack of books that Sam had set near you. Gingerly, you reached out, setting your hand on one of the bindings, and closed your eyes. 

I want to know the information in this book, you thought to yourself, then took a deep breath.

Your thoughts are filled with information, and you sift through it like tabs on a computer. This was far more useful than reading the books, being able to scan them quickly mentally. You didn’t have the information memorized, but it was easier than reading each one. 

You did this with two more books before Sam made his way back into the library. To keep that particular power under wraps, you had grabbed another book and were reading it. However, you did notice how Sam got on his laptop and didn’t return to his book. The impulse to attempt to read his mind wandered across yours, but you stopped that thought quickly. You weren’t the kind to trespass on someone’s privacy like that.

Dean brought dinner to the library, and you wondered if they used the kitchen for anything other than just cooking. The way the burger tasted, though, surprised you. His smartass remark to your compliment made you roll your eyes and focus on your dinner and your book. The beer went well with the burger.

When everyone was done eating, you had had enough reading for the night. Your eyes felt as though they were a bit strained. So, you gathered the dishes and headed into the kitchen, both brothers watching you, a bit puzzled. This would give you another opportunity to use your powers, attempt to exhaust yourself.

The kitchen wasn’t dirty, per se. For them being bachelors, it was fairly well-kept. You set the dishes on the counter, then with just a thought, they were not only clean but also put away, along with what he’d used to cook with. There was a very light layer of dust on some things, so, with another thought, that too was cleaned up. 

You sighed, wondering what else you could do to expend more energy. Some of the cookware looked well used, so, with a thought, it looked brand new. You fixed the ware and tare on the drawers with a thought, making them look as if they, too, were brand new. You even went as far as doing the same with the fridge and replenishing a few of their supplies.

When you went back out into the library, you realized you had interrupted a conversation the two were having, as they quickly got quiet and looked at you. 

I’m just a case…

“I’m gonna head to bed,” you told the two of them, giving them a friendly smile.

“Alright. Good night,” Sam replied, and you couldn’t quite make out what the partial smile he gave you meant.

“Good night, Sweetheart,” Dean told you. The smirk he featured, you guessed, was just the way he smiled.

You headed down the hallway to the room you’d slept in the night before, closing the door behind you. Neither of them had given you the tour they had mentioned, which bothered you a bit. With a thought, your clothes changed, and you were now in a pair of sweats and a night-tank top. Then, you got a little dizzy, quickly but wobbly, making it to your bed and sitting down. That had been the most you’d ever used your powers.

The room spun a bit, but you were still able to mostly think, even through the fog of being dizzy.

Is this what the book meant…

As soon as that thought played through your mind, you fell over, your head missing the pillow, and passed out. At least you were on the bed all the way.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

Tag List: @djs8891

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

#SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spnfandom #spn au #supernatural #soulmates #spn fic #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fandom #supernatural oc #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural au #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #Dean Winchester x femaleOC #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader

[phoenixyfriend]

Yet Another Rexwalker AU

Warnings: Bodily mutilation as slave punishment

---

So, Anakin never left Tatooine. Qui-Gon still died on Naboo, but the team had landed by a different city (Mos Eisley, I guess?) and so they never met Ani.

Anakin got attention from his podracing in his early teens, was bought by Jabba because Watto was in debt enough to not be able to say no. Got shifted between podracing (flashy) and mechanics (consistent), and uh...

Okay, have you guys read/watched Hunger Games?

You know how if someone really gets in trouble, legally, they’re punished by having their tongues cut out? Yeah. Anakin got mouthy and rebellious and possibly tried to stage a revolution in his teens, but he was too useful to just kill and they couldn't not punish him, so that happened.

(That was the actual kicking off point, in my brain, the 'huh, wonder if the Hunger Games thing happens in SW' and then I ran with it.)

So, TCW arrives. Obi-Wan is running around, doing Things, and he has a padawan. She's been with him a few years, she bites, he's very fond of her and regularly throws her at things for her amusement. Christophsis happens! It's a little different. The 501st doesn't have an attached Jedi, they're just kind of working under Yularen, who's... not as good as a Jedi, in terms of treating the clones as People, but he's pretty decent for a natborn. He respects Rex's weird position of 'in charge of everyone but is only a Captain because of Reasons' and generally assumes the clones know what they're doing.

Jabba's son gets kidnapped. Shit happens. Dooku and Ventress involve themselves. Dooku shows interest in that one mechanic that Jabba spends a lot of time mocking in ways most slaves don't get mocked. This is because Dooku can sense how much Potential he has, and is interested in seeing what kind of weapon a former slave can be turned into. The kid is pretty strong and fast and agile, and has decent instincts. Dooku is interested.

Then Jabba finds out that Dooku was aiming to kill his kid. And the Jedi handled it. And so.

Jabba, solely to piss off Dooku, offers Anakin to the Jedi.

As a gift of thanks, with a snide comment about 'damaged goods.'

Obi-Wan agrees because what the fuck sure they'll? Free a slave? Jabba can't imagine Obi-Wan's not aiming to free this guy, right?

So that happens.

There's communications difficulty because Huttese sign language is the one Anakin knows, and he's only got a loose grasp on Galactic sign. He can understand them speaking, but he needs to write things out to respond.

He doesn't have much to pack, only asks that he be allowed to visit his mother (freed a few years earlier) before they leave Tatooine.

"We're freeing you, though?" Ahsoka points out.

"I don't want to be kidnapped by that Count guy," Anakin responds, and everyone has to admit that he has a point, so they just take Anakin with them.

They discuss options. Anakin's primary skillset is as a ship mechanic, so Obi-Wan's favorite option is him working at the Temple hangar. Anakin asks to have some time to consider it. They have a week or two before they can swing by Coruscant again, so sure!

Anakin spends a lot of time with Ahsoka, who's delighted to share her training with him, because he's older than her but she knows Jedi stuff and she can teach! Him!

Anakin is declared big-brother-shaped by a Jedi Padawan. He goes along with it because. Sure! She's a sweet kid with a lot of energy. Why not?

Obi-Wan is vaguely keeping an eye on Anakin in case he teaches her things that shouldn't be taught (Obi-Wan's worried about explosions), but doesn't see the harm in it.

Anakin also spends a lot of time with Rex, mostly because Ahsoka likes Rex a lot, he's one of her Best Friends, and she'd like her Best Friend to get along with her New Friend.

They do get along.

They get along very, very well.

Obi-Wan considers addressing it but Rex isn't legally a person and Anakin was in the same boat until literally a week ago so if they want to make out in Rex's little office then... well, they probably know how to work with those power dynamics better than he does.

this has a lot in common with multiple Ob*kin fics but I want Rexwalker flavor stuff, it has Different Power Balances

#Rexwalker #Snips and Skyguy #rex and ahsoka #ahsoka and rex #Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Jabba the Hutt #Obi Wan Kenobi #Captain Rex #Ahsoka Tano #Count Dooku #Admiral Yularen #star wars #the clone wars #phoenix posts #bodily mutilation tw #body horror tw #body mutilation tw

[watchmegetobsessed]

An Ocean Away - Harry Styles

Sequel to Tastes Like Strawberries 🍓 !

a/n: ahhh! thank you so much for the love you showed TLS! i already had more planned for the story, but all your comments motivated me to do this part 2! it’s an emotional one so brace yourselves! further in the chapter i placed the song that inspired the title and i listened to it while writing so i suggest you do the same!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 12.7k

masterlist

You walk down the familiar hallway texting back Eden that you are not spending the night at home again.

Eden: You really need to tell me about the dick that keeps you so busy these days.

Y/N: I never said a thing about any dick.

Eden: Oh please, you surely got yourself a rebound after Harry, you can’t tell me otherwise.

Y/N: Don’t you get a rebound when you broke up with someone? I was never together with Harry, so it doesn’t make sense.

Eden: You had a thing!! Okay, whatever. Keep your little secrets, I guess it’s fine…

Y/N: Love you!

Chuckling to yourself you put the phone away and stop at the door you know all too well, knocking two times before you open it and poke your head inside.

Harry is sitting at his desk, his reading glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he is vigorously scribbling something down into his notebook. He lifts his head at your arrival and you shut the door closed behind you.

“Hello, professor,” you smile at him teasingly, walking around his desk as he pushes himself back a little so you can sit on his lap, pecking his lips gently.

“Hey, done for the day?” he asks, his fingers tenderly stroking your thighs over the fabric of your jeans.

“Yeah. We can leave if you’re done,” you nod.

“Just a few more minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” you nod, standing up from his lap so he can finish his work while you sit on the little loveseat he has in the corner, right under the window.

It’s been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, the new semester has officially started, you’re working your way towards your degree as this is officially your last semester, but what’s more important that you and Harry have been a couple for six weeks following the heated actions of New Year’s Eve.

Harry is still quite anxious about the whole thing, always on high alert and he even asked you to lie to Eden and Nat too. You tried to fight him on that, but you could tell how much he wanted to protect what you had so you decided to feed them this elaborate story about how you and Harry had a fight on New Year’s Eve and realized that it would have never worked out so you agreed to stay just friends. It seems like they believed, because they’ve been keen on trying to set you up with someone while you just keep dodging their attempts, sneaking around with Harry behind their back.

Other than the continuous lying and sneaking around, things have been going well with him. You’ve been spending a lot of time at his place, the only hiding spot where you can be carefree around each other without always watching out for others around you.

Today is Valentine’s day and though your opportunities to celebrate are very slim, having anything that’s slightly public crossed out of the list, that still doesn’t stop the two of you from having a good night in.

You watch him curiously as he is reading the lines of someone’s essay probably, or some test, whatever. Holding the pen ready to use whenever he finds something incorrect, he furrows his eyebrows at something before crossing out a line, mouthing the words he writes to the side of the page. He doesn’t wear his glasses that often, but he’s been complaining about having dry eyes these past days so it’s no surprised he switched to them from his contact lenses.

“You look sexy in your glasses, have I told you that?”

He glances at you, a small smirk tugging on his lips before he returns to the paper in front of him.

“Think they make me look older,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Nah, not more at least than your grandpa sweaters,” you tease him, earning a ‘Really? This again?’ look from him that makes you chuckle.

You busy yourself while Harry finishes his work and then you head out together, strictly keeping the distance between each other. Walking out of the building Harry heads to the left where the car park is while you take a turn to the right. It’s been your usual, since you can’t have anyone see you get into Harry’s car so casually, so you usually walk down to the small café near Building D, because there’s a very narrow little street running behind it where you can get into the car without anyone noticing you. You do the same now too before finally heading back to Harry’s place. Sinking into the comfortable seat, you stare out the window, thinking about how it’s just been six weeks since New Year’s Eve, but it feels like you’ve been together with Harry for months. Despite his many doubts and hesitant act, it was easy to fall into a kind of routine with him, and even more easier to get used to the thought that he is yours and you are his.

During these six weeks you’ve learned quite a few things about him, things women on campus would die to know and they were handed over to you on a silver plate by Harry himself.

One, he is a very touchy person, of course, when he has the chance for it. In the safety of his home or when you have a few minutes for yourselves in his office, he always likes to have his hand on your back or waist, he loves touching your hips or cheeks, caressing the skin wherever it shows from under your clothes. He is also very cuddly, likes to wrap you in his arms when you’re watching TV and when it’s time to sleep the first thing he does is to pull you into his embrace. You usually wake up in the morning with him completely wrapped around you, limbs thrown over you, face buried into your chest or stomach. He is a messy sleeper, but also a fucking adorable one.

Two, he is a good cook but not that good at baking. He says it’s the universe’s sign that he shouldn’t eat as much sweet stuff as he does, but in reality he just sucks at measuring the ingredients. He never follows the recipe, easily goes with things his own way and then he is surprised when it doesn’t turn out as it should.

Three, he notices the smallest things you’d never. Like how you hate it when the Sun is shining right into your face so he always makes sure to draw the blinds in the evening, or that you prefer sleeping with more pillows so he just simply gives you an extra without even asking every time you’re spending the night. He cares so much about you to the smallest details, it always makes your heart flutter.

And four, though he keeps a tough act in school, he is a lovesick puppy when no one is around, likes to be the small spoon when cuddling, absolutely adores it when you cup his face in your palms and kiss it all over. Loves it when you play with his hair or when you hug him from behind, kissing between his shoulder blades. He always tells you how pretty you are and never misses a chance to sneak a kiss from you. You couldn’t imagine him do any of these before you really knew him, but now you see that all these little things are just as much parts of him like the version of him he shows at school. You feel lucky to be able to see him like this and you’ll probably never get bored of it.

Arriving to his place you drop your bag off at the bedroom before you join him in the kitchen, already eyeing the flyer to the nearby Italian place that delivers.

“How about pizza?” he hums, eyebrows knitted together as he scans the menu.

“Sounds good. Can we order dessert too?” Walking past him you kiss his shoulder before grabbing a glass for yourself, filling it with tap water.

“Oh, no need,” he shyly answers, glancing at you. “We… have dessert.”

You watch him with curious eyes as he disappears in his little study before emerging with a plate filled with pink cupcakes. They look wobbly, the cream on top is not the same on either of them, but because you know he made them, they are the most perfect you’ve ever seen.

He places the plate to the counter with a shy smile before turning to you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, hands finding your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Oh baby, did you stay up last night to make these?” you ask, touched that he took the time and energy to surprise you with something. Harry nods and you kiss his dimples softly.

“Mm, they are strawberry flavored,” he smirks boyishly.

“We are never escaping strawberries,” you chuckle softly as you dip your fingertip into the cream on top of one of the cakes, tasting it. “Hmm, this is actually good,” you tell him.

“Yeah, the cream is kind of okay, dunno about the rest though,” he admits chuckling.

“As long as it’s not poisonous, I’ll love it,” you giggle kissing his lips again softly. “Alright, but I can’t go over the fact that we agreed on no gifts for Valentine’s Day,” you say giving him a look.

“S’not a gift, just… a little gesture,” he shrugs innocently.

“Okay, then you can’t get mad over my little gesture,” you smirk at him, peeling his arms off you before you run into his bedroom to get his gift.

You really weren’t planning to give him anything, but you had a good idea last minute and couldn’t just not do it. Digging into your bag you pull out the little box and join him in the kitchen again, handing it to him.

“It’s not fair if you spent money on it,” he pouts, but you just roll your eyes.

“You spent money on the cupcakes too. But besides, I didn’t spent a penny on it. Open it!” You urge him.

Harry huffs but takes the lid off, revealing a stack of Polaroid photos. In this not too ideal situation the two of you are living in, there’s no chance you can ever post anything about him, even though there are quite a few cute photos of you with Harry. Eden recently bought a Polaroid printer and you borrowed it to print your favorite pictures of the two of you. There’s one from the morning after New Year’s Eve, just a silly selfie you took in bed, then one with the band from Harry’s birthday recently, a photo of the two of you backstage of one of his gigs you took in the mirror, he has his guitar in his hands as you stand next to him smiling widely. There are a few more with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte and Adam and at the very end of the stack… some special ones.

You watch him go through them smiling warmly until he reaches the last few and freezes. You took the courage to take a few spicy ones of yourself in your favorite lingerie and thought it would be sexy to print them out as well and give them to him.

“I hope you’re not thinking about selling them already,” you chuckle. Harry glances up at you before shaking his head with a playful smirk.

“Was just a little surprised by them,” he admits.

“Do you… like them?”

“Oh baby, I love them, you look… wow,” he breathes out going over the pictures one more time. “But I’m gonna have to lock these away so no one finds them. Adam likes to go over my stuff when he is over, I definitely don’t want him to find them.”

“You better keep them safe because if anyone sees them I’m burying myself,” you snort.

Harry puts the stack of photos back into the box before leaning down he cups your face and kisses you gently.

“Thank you, love the pictures. All of them,” he adds cheekily and you feel yourself blushing.

He leans in to kiss you again, putting the box aside to the counter and this time it’s not just one short kiss, he carries it on, taking his time with your lips, savoring and tasting you without a worry in the world. It grows more and more passionate, tongues clashing and you tug at his hair, lacing your fingers through his locks, a moan escaping his pink lips.

You start inching backwards until your backside meets the edge of the counter. Harry doesn’t hesitate to pull your sweater off of you, throwing it behind before his lips are pressed against yours again. It doesn’t take long for his shirt and pants and your jeans to end up on the floor somewhere behind him, leaving you both in just your underwear. You kiss down his neck and collarbones, your lips gliding across his tattooed chest as you slowly slide down to your knees, hands moving over his growing bulge.

Hooking your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, you tug them down and pull his erection out, already so hard for you and you barely even touched him.

“What does my Valentine deserve for making me cupcakes?” you hum, teasingly pumping him a few times with your hands. Harry whimpers under your touch, but doesn’t answer so you stop your hands and look up at him. “Talk to me, what do you want?”

“Your mouth,” he breathes out, his eyes meeting yours, filled with lust and hunger only for you. Smirking to yourself you lick his length up before gently kissing the head, swirling your tongue around the tip before you slowly take him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby!” he pants when you start bobbing your head, pumping the base in sync with your head’s movements.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair. He doesn’t force you, he never does, just likes to hold onto you. You try to take him deeper and deeper with each movement until you fit his whole cock into your mouth, keeping it there for a few seconds before pulling away and letting him go.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, helping you up from the floor, kissing your lips hard as he is already pulling your panties down your legs. “How do you want it?”

“From behind,” you tell without hesitation, turning around so you can lean onto the counter and push your ass up for him.

You feel one of his hands stroke down your spine while the other one reaches between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, drawing gentle circles on it at first before he goes a little harder, making you moan his name.

“Harry, please!” you beg, the need to feel him growing with each passing second.

He pulls his hand back, grabbing his hard cock as he lines himself up with you, one hand on his shaft, the other one holding your hip firmly to keep you in place. First he pushes just the tip inside and when he is sure you’re ready to take more, he slides all of him inside, filling you up perfectly.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good. Always so good,” he breathes out, both his hands coming to grip your waist as his hips meet your ass from behind.

He starts moving, going a little soft at the beginning before he gets rougher, his hips smacking against your ass with each thrust. You arch your back and push your ass up so you’re angled just perfectly for him, he runs a hand up your back, sliding it under the clasp of your bra and he leaves it there while fucking you from behind oh so well.

“Harry, oh my God!” you groan when he starts hitting that one spot that makes you go crazy.

“Feeling good, baby?”

“Fuck! So good!” you gasp, feeling the pleasure building up with each thrust. “Go harder!” you beg and once he has both hands on your hips again he does as you asked, railing into you hard, making you keep gasping for air.

“Getting close? Tell me when you’re about to cum, baby.”

“I’m close, please don’t stop!” you pant, hands holding onto the counter’s edge for dear life.

He reaches around you, a hand coming between your legs as his fingers find your clit again, adding to the sensation as he starts playing with it just the way you like it.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum! Harry!” you moan uncontrollably and he growls deeply from his chest.

“Cum with me, baby. Give it to me,” he breathes out sharply and he just keeps railing you hard, fingers working on your clit until he feels your walls clench around his dick. “Oh fuck, yes, baby! Cum on my cock!” he gasps and at the same time as you go through your orgasm, you feel him twitch inside you, coming hard with you at the same time. “Jesus fuck! I love you, Y/N!”

You gasp at his words, eyes snapping open in the middle of your orgasm and all air pushes out of your lungs for a moment.

He whimpers and moans, thrusting into you a few more times before he comes to a halt, both of you panting like crazy, coming off your high. When he slowly slides his softening cock out of you, you turn around and look into his eyes. For a moment you thought he just said it in the heat of the moment and he didn’t even realize it, but when your eyes meet his, you can tell he is a little afraid of what your reaction is going to be.

“Did you mean that?” you quietly ask as he tucks his dick back into his boxers, pulling them up, but you don’t bother to put your underwear back on, standing there in only your bra.

“I-I did. I didn’t mean to say it now, but I did mean it,” he nods. “Is it… too soon?”

“No,” you smile at him, stepping closer so you can cup his face in your palms, kissing his lips softly. “I love you too.”

“You do?” he asks, surprised at your reaction.

“Of course, silly. I wouldn’t give my nudes to someone I don’t,” you joke making him chuckle, his arms coming to curl around your waist.

“Sorry, this wasn’t too… romantic,” he breathes out and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You said you love me while fucking me on Valentine’s Day after exchanging cute gifts. I think it’s romantic,” you chuckle, finally making him smile. “Besides, I don’t care about the setting, just feels nice to hear you say it.”

“Yeah?” “Mhm, care to say it again so I can see your eyes as well?”

“I love you,” he softly murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah, feels better when I can actually look at you,” you chuckle kissing him softly. “I love you too.”

It’s definitely not just fun and games, being in a secret relationship that no one can know about. It surely adds a lot of tension into the situation, having to be so careful all the time and be reserved to the point where you can’t even be seen too often together.

As the semester carries on you always keep your ears open if there’s anything going on about you and Harry. Though you only limit your time together on campus to the bare minimum, only talking on rare occasions, you still want to make sure no one is getting the wrong (or right) idea about what is going on between the two of you.

The worst part is probably having to lie to Eden and Nat all the time. You spend about three nights at Harry’s every week and you have to lie every time you leave. After a while you tell them that you’re dating this new guy but he wants to keep it low-key because he recently broke up with his previous girlfriend. That gives them enough peace not to nag you all the time but you can tell they really want to meet this new man in your life.

You’ve tried to discuss it with Harry, tell him that they won’t tell anyone but it ended in a fight and you kind of gave up. Harry is way too keen on keeping it a secret and it’s clear he is not gonna make any exceptions. At least it’s the same with his friends, the two of you act like just friends when you’re out with the band though you have a suspicion that Sarah can see through the act. However she chooses not to talk about it so it’s kept hidden.

You don’t fight much with Harry, but when you do, it’s major. You both can get really into the argument and it easily gets way too heated, turning into a screaming match until you both realize you should just talk it out and have a little more understanding for each other. The makeup sex after a fight however… that’s something that makes up for every nasty thing that’s said in the heat of the moment.

Nearing the end of the semester you both start to grow more stressed, you about finishing your last classes, your thesis and studying for your finals, Harry about the growing pile of essays and tests waiting to be graded. A lot of the time when you’re at his place you both are busy with your own stuff and only have the chance to actually be with each other when you go to bed. It takes a toll on the both of you, but you’re determined to make it work. Despite the unfortunate nature of how you are forced to maintain your relationship, it’s the healthiest one you’ve ever head and you definitely won’t give up on it too easily.

Though you, Nat and Eden turn in your thesis works mid-April, the semester is still not done for the three of you, the final exams are threateningly close at this point. Spring has officially kicked in, the weather is mostly clear and sunny, allows you to stay outside again and you take advantage of it.

One particular afternoon the three of you are lounging under the pergola, all three of you buried in a book or your notes when you spot Harry walking towards the building. You keep your eyes on him as he slowly approaches you, his gaze meets yours and he smiles at you shortly. It’s all you can get out in the public, but it’s more than nothing.

“Isn’t it hard to see him?” Eden asks and glancing her way you see that she is looking at Harry who is now busy with his phone.

“Why would it be?”

“I don’t know, you clearly had a thing for him and it wasn’t even just a one-sided flirting like every other women had with him. I couldn’t be around him if it happened to me.”

“It’s not like anything major happened. It was all bad timing and the situation wasn’t good. It’s better this way,” you tell her, trying to sound convincing while the guilt is eating you on the inside. All these lies are clouding over your head and you have a feeling they will come down on you pouring one day.

“Still crazy that you are friends with his friends though,” Nat chimes in, squinting her eyes in the sunshine.

“Yeah, you are literally the only person on campus who gets to see him in his private life,” Eden nods. If only they knew how much you see him privately!

“It’s not that crazy,” you shrug, turning back to your book.

You all get back to work, forgetting about Harry, or at least Nat and Eden does, because you get a text from him shortly after he disappeared in the building.

Harry: You look very pretty today :)

Y/N: Flirting with me on campus, professor?

Harry: Can’t help it.

Y/N: You look handsome too, it’s a shame I can’t kiss you stupid!

Harry: Patience!

 “Y/N? Did you hear what I said?” Nat grabs your attention from the phone and you realize she was talking to you.

“What? Uh, sorry.”

“I said that we should go out this weekend. It’s been ages since we last did anything other than studying.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Don’t come with your usual, rambling about how we shouldn’t have any fun before we finish,” Eden rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I say. I just think that we have priorities.”

“I don’t know about you, but it’s a priority for me to have fun, so I’m down for a night out.

“I think I’m passing,” you mumble. You already made plans for the weekend with Harry, take a hike up the hills since the weather has been nice and it would be great to spend time together outside the house. The hiking routes are far away enough from town that uni students don’t like to take the hustle to drive all the way out so you’ll be fine being together outside.

“If you want to say that you have something planned with your mystery man, don’t even bother. If it’s not his birthday, we are overruling him,” Eden scoffs and you roll your eyes at her.

“Just go without me.”

“That’s not the same!” Nat whines. “Come on, Y/N. For once choose us!”

“That’s rude I choose you guys a lot of times!”

“Not since you’ve been spending half your life with some man and the other half in the library.”

“Yeah, we feel abandoned!” Nat pouts at you, trying to make you feel bad and in all honesty, she is succeeding.

“We can doll ourselves up, have fancy cocktails and all that, it’s gonna be fun! Come on, just one night! I can’t take another Saturday sitting in my room, reading my notes,” Eden growls and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I guess I’m in,” you mumble and your friends start cheering as if you just declared that men and women are going to get paid equally from now on.

You can tell Harry is bummed that you have to cancel your weekend plans, but he is also trying to be understanding.

“I couldn’t bring up a relevant argument so they made me say yes,” you growl when later that day you’re cuddling on his couch after dinner.

“S’fine,” he sighs, leaning down he pecks your lips shortly.

“Wish I could just tell them that I had plans with you,” you breathe out.

“Y/N…” “I know!” you roll your eyes. “It’s just that it would be nice if I could at least tell them the truth.”

“We already talked about this,” he sighs.

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact that it bothers me,” you point out. “Am I not allowed to feel that way?”

“You are, I just don’t get why you keep bringing it up when there’s literally nothing I can do about it,” he retorts.

“Well there is, you just choose not to.” And with that, you officially pick another fight with him.

It’s not that you enjoy fighting with him, not at all, but the situation is so not ideal and you find his overprotectiveness a little too much at times. You don’t understand why you can’t share it with your two closest friends. You could at least tell Sarah or the other guys, have anyone know about the two of you, but literally no one on Earth knows that you are a couple and it’s bugging you way more than it probably should.

“Why are you so damn keen on making others know about us? What does that have to do with anything?” he growls throwing his hands into the air, standing in the opposite end of the room as you keep pacing the floor, the urge to keep on moving taking over you.

“Because—“ you snap, but stop yourself. You know if you say it out loud, he’ll think you’re stupid.

“Because what?!”

“Because i-it makes me feel like we are not even real! I can’t talk about us, I can’t touch you outside of this house, no one knows we are a thing and it’s so fucking nerve-wrecking, Harry!” you break down, feeling your throat closing up. You didn’t mean to get emotional over this, but you’ve been bottling it up for a while now.

Harry’s shoulder fall forward as he sees the change in you, the heat of the fight long forgotten. He crosses the room, hands reaching up to cup your face in his palms, his thumbs running across the soft skin under your eyes as he wipes the tears away.

“Baby, I know. You think I don’t want to show you off? I want to hold your hand and just take a walk with you, kiss you whenever I want to, show all the horny fratboys on campus that you’re taken. I know it’s hard, but we really don’t have a choice until the end of the semester.”

He gently kisses the tip of your nose before pulling you to his chest, your arms circle around his waist as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, trying to stop your sobs.

“I’m sorry. I really wish it was all different,” he murmurs, kissing into your hair softly.

“No, I’m sorry for bitching about this all the time. I knew what we were getting into,” you exhale sharply. “It just… really sucks.”

“It does. But we just have to be patient.”

You manage to put the fight behind and move on in peace, but a tiny thought remains buzzing in the very back of your mind. What happens when you finish school? Will it all be different? Harry will still be a professor and if people see you around together, they will know you were one of his students. What’s gonna be the difference? If he is so on edge now, something is telling you he won’t be changing dramatically and it concerns you. A lot.

Not willingly, but you go out with Nat and Eden on Saturday. You go to a place that’s quite popular between students, you can most likely always find familiar faces from lecture halls and classes. It’s close to campus and more on the cheap side, the perfect spot for uni students for a night of fun.

As expected, you run into some people from school and they invite the three of you to sit with them at their table which comes in handy, because there’s no empty place by the time you arrive.

One drink follows the other and you easily get tipsy especially because you skipped on dinner before heading out. Though you weren’t in the mood for tonight, you find yourself enjoying the conversation and the company. It really has been long since the last time you went out with the girls and it’s nice to spend some time with them without the books and notes.

A debate starts about whose course one of the boys, Jace should take next semester.

“Professor Peltz is fucking boring, dude,” Nat growls, taking a sip from her drink. “Had him last semester, I could barely stay awake during his lectures.”

“Yeah, but they say he gives good grades easily,” Jace argues.

“Okay, but who else can you choose from again?” Lydia, a girl who lived a few doors down from you when you lived in a dormitory your first year.

“Um, Professor Makley and Professor Styles.”

You freeze at the mention of Harry, especially upon hearing Lydia’s reaction.

“Jace, choose Professor Styles! He is so fucking hot!”

“Not that it matters to me, Lyd,” Jace chuckles.

“Oh come on, I know even guys think he is hot.”

You feel like an intruder in the conversation, keeping quiet as you listen to her rave about how hot she finds Harry. It’s like you are eavesdropping on something that wasn’t meant for your ears, but it’s just the guilt bubbling inside you once again, because you know you won’t be able to say a word without having to lie.

“She has a point,” another guy, Garrett chimes into the conversation. “The man is handsome and I’m not even ashamed to admit it.”

“See?” Lydia chuckles. “He is sexy and smart, the whole package. I’ve been daydreaming about him since first year.”

You catch Eden’s look, but you just busy yourself with gulping from your vodka cranberry, feeling uncomfortable in the situation but not even for the reason she thinks. Eden must think it’s weird because you had an actual thing with Harry, but the truth is… that thing is still very much ongoing.

“I would let that man do whatever he wants with me,” Lydia adds sighing longingly, and you are having a hard time to hold your tongue. Unfortunately, you don’t succeed.

“Not sure he wants anything to do with you,” you mumble into your drink and though you hoped your comment would stay unnoticed, but you are out of luck.

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lydia slyly replies, a bit too full of herself for your liking. Yes, she is pretty and definitely doesn’t have problem with guys, but she is a little too confident about Harry if you’re being honest.

“I’m sorry?” you ask with a soft, bit annoyed chuckle.

“I’m just saying that we’ll never know who he finds attractive, because we all know he keeps himself so far from his students.”

“Yeah, maybe because he is not interested in any of his students,” you point out.

“As if he would ever make a move on any of us,” she snorts and you are losing your temper. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, because now you really can’t hold your tongue.

“You can never know, Lydia. You can’t know if he acts the way he does because he is just trying to be professional or because he is, and consider this, not interested in you. Maybe he would actually act up on his feelings but you’re just not his type.”

Your comment is more like just a harsh comeback to Lydia’s words, but Nat and Eden kind of catch on that something is up with you. Ignoring their questioning looks you chug down your drink and soon excuse yourself to get some fresh air. No surprise that they follow you like puppies.

“Girl, what was that inside?” Nat asks as the three of you stand near the entrance of the bar, a few smoking guests littering the area.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you mumble, clearly avoiding to look at any of them, wrapping your arms around your upper body as if you were trying to keep your shit together physically.

“You snapped at Lydia for saying Professor Styles might have a thing for her,” Eden points out, but you just bite the inside of your cheeks.

“Because it was bullshit.”

“Why does that matter to you? Not that you’re together with him or something,” Nat argues and you roll your lips into your mouth, trying to keep a straight face but they know you way better than that. They gasp at the same time, Eden grabbing your forearm forcefully that makes you scowl.

“Hey! That hurts!” you whine, but she couldn’t care less.

“Are you fucking around with Professor Styles?” Nat whisper yells at you, eyes wider than ever.

“I mean… we���re not fucking around,” you mumble, looking down at your shoes as you kick the dirt around. “We’re kinda serious.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Eden snaps, drawing some attention at her and you let out an awkward chuckle at the glances the three of you get. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

“No, I am… not,” you admit, feeling a little relieved that you finally said it, but you also feel like you let Harry down with it.

“How long?” Nat questions in shock.

“Since New Year’s Eve. So… almost four months.”

“So he is the one you’ve been seeing all this time? The guy you didn’t want to talk about?”

“Um, yeah. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about him, we just agreed that it’s safer if no one knows.”

“I’m speechless, Y/N,” Eden shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t fucking believe you kept it from us for this long!”

“I know, I felt so shitty, but it’s such a complicated situation, it’s so risky, we don’t want it to ruin us.”

“Obviously,” Nat nods understandingly. “And now I see why you snapped so harshly at Lydia.”

“I just couldn’t stand her talking like that. You guys have no idea how hard it is to keep every fucking thought to myself.”

“Why do I have a feeling it has a little more to it than to just Lydia drooling over Harry?” Nat arches an eyebrow at you, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, you’ve been oddly tensed lately,” Eden agrees.

“It’s just pretty stressful to have a secret relationship, it causes a lot of tension. And I’ve been… I’m not sure anything is going to change after I graduate, if I’m being honest.”

“What do you mean?” Nat asks.

“I just…” you sigh, all your thoughts you kept to yourself flooding back to you at once, overwhelming you in a situation that’s already a bit too much to handle. “We keep saying that it’s gonna change when I graduate, but I don’t see it. He is so overprotective and even if I graduate, people will find out that I was once his student. And it might not be against the rules anymore, but we’ll be judged. I didn’t think it through before, but it’s now starting to be more and more clear for me and I just… don’t know if we can make it work.”

You feel the tears forming in your eyes, you’ve been keeping this to yourself for way too long now and saying it out loud just broke the dam. When Nat and Eden sees your lips trembling and the watery eyes you’re trying to blink away, they don’t hesitate to pull you into a tight hug.

“Aw, don’t cry! It makes me want to cry too!” Nat chuckles softly as they sandwich you between them.

“It just sucks so much, because I love him, but I feel like we met at the wrong time and place,” you sob, letting them crush you.

“It happens, baby. It happens. You’ll figure it out!” Eden kisses your forehead before they let go of you. “Want to go home?”

“It’s still early, don’t want to kill the party. I think I’ll just… head over to Harry’s for now. Is that okay?”

“Of course, do whatever makes you feel better,” Nat assures you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry I was such a party pooper.”

You call yourself an Uber and text Harry that you are going over. Twenty minutes later you are walking up the stairs to his house and he opens the front door before you could even reach for the doorknob.

“Hey, baby,” he breathes out softly and you don’t say a word, just wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Hey, what happened? Didn’t have a good time with your friends?” He delicately caresses your hair, walking the two of you inside so he can close the door before wrapping both his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” you mumble and it’s the truth. You’re tired of these thoughts though you know you should talk to him about how you’ve been feeling about the two of you lately. Part of you is hoping something will just magically solve the whole situation and you won’t have to deal with it yourself.

Harry makes you a tea while you take a shower and once you are both in bed, you cuddle to his side while he reads some. You are just genuinely enjoying his closeness, because despite everything that’s been haunting you in connection with Harry, you really love this man. Like no one else before and the possibility of the two of you not making it long term scares you more than it probably should.

The next few weeks come and go in a sense of numbness. Following your emotional breakdown in front of the bar, you kind of push the whole thing to the back of your mind once again, putting all your focus on finishing school. Neither you nor Harry has the energy to put up more fights though you both can feel there’s a lot to talk about, but the end of the semester is just keeping you both way too busy to acknowledge the problems waiting on the corner.

At least there’s one less weight on your shoulders now that Nat and Eden know about you and Harry. You made them swear to their life they won’t tell anyone and you trust them to keep this heavy secret. They’ve been very supportive of the two of you, interrogated you one evening about everything that happened so far, they wanted to make sure Harry treats you the right way. No surprise, he does.

A few weeks before your state exam Harry extends his contract with the school to have him as a professor for another academic year so he is able to keep his visa as well.

You spend your last two weeks buried in your notes before your state exam and Harry gives you all the time and space you need, knowing well how much it means to you to earn the best grade possible.

When you are finally over your exam, you are celebrating at his place. He has bought a little cake and some champagne and you can’t wait to finally spend some time with him without having to worry about your studies.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he smiles at you, clinking his glass against yours.

“Thank you, feels nice to be finally free,” you chuckle before taking a sip from the champagne.

“My smart girl, knew you’d kill all your exams.” He kisses your lips shortly before squeezing your hand. “How about I run a bath for us, we eat the cake in the tub and then we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you smile at him before he disappears in the bathroom to get everything ready.

Finishing your champagne you wash the glass quickly and you’re about to cut the cake when your phone buzzes signaling that you’ve just gotten an email. As pull down the notification bar your lips part reading the first few lines. You open the whole thing and read through it eagerly.

It’s a job offer, but not just some lame one that also sounds sketchy at the same time. This one is from one of the biggest investigation offices in London and they are offering you a trainee position as a forensic document examiner with a possible secured spot on their team after one year. The money sounds amazing, the position is perfect, just what you’ve been dreaming of once you are done with school and they are looking forward to hear back from you about a possible interview in the near future.

“Alright, bath is coming together nicely, want to cut the ca—Wha’s up?” Harry questions upon returning from the bathroom, finding you staring at your phone’s screen with widened eyes.

“I, uhh—I just got a… a job offer,” you stutter, still rereading the lines, trying to find a sign that tells you it’s just a joke, but it seems completely genuine.

“What? Baby, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” you nod swallowing hard before you look up at him. “It’s in London.”

You watch his face fall from excited and happy to shocked and kind of panicky. You both know what that means, it doesn’t have to be said out loud. Harry just signed another year with the university that’s gonna tie him here for the next 12 months and if you accept the job you’ll be all the way across the world in the UK. Kind of ironic, him, the British guy stuck in the States while you, the American in the relationship, eager to go to the UK.

“That’s… wow. London.”

“Yeah, London,” you nod biting the inside of your cheeks.

“Are you… Are you gonna take it?”

“Well, they want an interview with me, but this is clearly a huge opportunity for me,” you say, not wanting to say the actual words. You feel like saying them would hit you harder than what you can take.

“It clearly is, it’s just that… You want to leave?” he breathes out, eyebrows knitting together.

“This is my only job offer and probably the best I’ll ever get.”

“So you do want to leave,” he forces and it’s pushing your limits.

“Career-wise, of course!” you finally say out loud, unwillingly.

“And what about everything else?”

“I clearly don’t want to leave everything else here, but I will never get a chance like this, Harry. This is the greatest push for someone like me, fresh out of school. I can have a secured spot in a year at a well-respected place. I’m not really in the position to reject offers like this.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly unsure about what to do or say in the situation on his hand. You can tell he has a lot to say, but you’re not sure you want to hear all of them.

“Say something?” you softly plead and his eyes meet yours again, filled with concern.

“I just… It took me by surprise, I guess.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either.”

“No, not the job offer,” he shakes his head.

“Then what?”

“That you are ready to leave so easily. It’s like you never even wanted to discuss a version where you stay here, you just decided that you are leaving and that’s it.”

“Did you hear me? I cannot pass on this opportunity, Harry.”

“I did hear you,” he nods, pressing his lips together. “I heard that you didn’t even think about saying no.”

“Why would I say no?”

“Because I’m here, Y/N!” he snaps. “Good to know that I’m not a factor when it comes to decisions as big as leaving the country!”

“You are, Harry, but I need to think about my future career now. I’m not planning to work at an office for the rest of my life and if I pass on this job I might never get anything as good as this one,” you explain, but it seems like the two of you are having two different conversations.

“But why do I feel like it was never an option for you to stay?”

You give him a confused look. He really doesn’t see your point.

“Okay, why was only I supposed to change plans for us? You coming to London doesn’t feel like an option either, why are you trying to turn this against me?”

“I just extended my contract, you know that.”

“I do, and also, while we are at it, you didn’t ask me about that either. You didn’t even wait for me to figure out what I want to do after school, you just assumed that I would be here, but I never said that.” You can tell it hit him hard in the chest but somehow still, he thinks he is right when he isn’t.

“How could have I known you’d want to move across the globe?” he throws his hands up into the air.

“You’re saying this as if I didn’t just get the email and I’ve been plotting this the whole fucking time!”

“I’m just saying that it’s a huge fucking step and you decided so easily, it says a lot about the nature of our relationship.”

“Why are you saying that?!” you snap at him. “Why are you trying to make me the bad guy?”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that it would have been nice if you at least pretended like it was up for debate. You know what it’ll do to us if you move to London.”

“Then come with me!”

“I can’t!” He raises his voice, clearly losing his temper. “I can’t break my contract and you know that too.”

“Well, I can’t afford to say no to the job either and if I’m being honest, I don’t think we could have made it work even if I stayed.” The words leave your mouth before you could think about them, and the cat is finally out of the bag. It seemingly shocked Harry and he is now staring at you with a blank expression, shoulders falling forward.

“What?” he breathes out and you can actually hear his heart breaking. You take a deep breath and rub your face with your palms, trying to collect your thoughts and not just blurt everything out.

“I’ve been thinking and… Even after I’m officially out of the school, people will know that I was your student if they see us together. And I know how important your reputation is for you so I would never put you through any of the shit we might get for us being together. People would judge, no matter what the situation is. I don’t… I just don’t think we can ever make it work here.”

He stays silent, just stares at you, taking in your words and once again, you wish you could read his mind. You almost start begging him to say something when he finally speaks up.

“So you think we don’t have a chance?”

“Not here… maybe not now. I feel like this has been the perfect example of wrong place, wrong time,” you quietly say, a pang of guilt in your tone, this is not how you planned on making this conversation. To be honest, you wished this never had to come, but you were out of luck.

Harry is awfully silent, it’s all over his face how broken he is and you feel the same. You have so much love for this man, yet fate decided you don’t get to share it with him the way you want.

Walking closer you cup his face in your palms, searching for his eyes until his green irises meet your gaze. You run your thumb across his cheekbones, the pads of your fingers gliding softly over the soft skin. His hands slowly find their way to your waist and he pulls you close to him as you kiss him tenderly, a silent confession about just how much you love him.

“I wanted this to work. I wanted this so badly,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers digging into your back as he keeps you tight in his hold.

“I know. Me too,” you smile at him bitterly.

The rest of the evening passes by silently. You take a bath together, finish the cake anyway though even the sweetness can’t help the pain you both feel. Then you lie in bed for hours, just touching and feeling each other, making the best out of the time you have left. It’s unsaid, but you both know your days together are coming to a close end. Kisses and touches turn into some passionate love making, both of you desperate to feel as close to each other as possible and then you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

If you’re being honest, it’s all a blur following that night. You fix up an interview with London a few days later and they are not shying out of telling you straightforward that they want you there, the job is yours. You have one last short conversation with Harry about you leaving, but it’s more like just a confirmation that yes, it is going to happen and that leaves you with only a few weeks left together before you are packing up to leave the country.

You spend every possible free minute together until graduation where you finally get your degree. Your whole family comes and they cheer on you proudly, Harry standing in the crowd a little farther in the back, but still with a proud smile, a hint of gloominess in his beautiful green eyes. A week later you officially move out of your shared apartment with the girls, it’s a sobbing goodbye since all three of you are leaving in different directions following your graduation. You spend your last two weeks before your departure at home, spending as much time with your family as possible since you won’t be able to see them too often once you leave. Though your mom is dying to take you to the airport to say her final goodbye, you decided to give that time to Harry. He said he would drive to your hometown, pick you up and take you to the airport and you already know it’s gonna turn you into an emotional mess.

Leaving everything behind is hard, but having to say goodbye to Harry is the worst. It’s been a whole emotional rollercoaster for the both of you to get to this point and neither of you are ready to say goodbye, but this is what needs to happen.

That morning, you hug your parents, sister and brother tightly after you load Harry’s car with your two huge suitcases that have your whole life packed in them. You asked your family not to ask any questions about Harry and luckily, they kept quiet the whole time he was there, just treating him as a friend. You couldn’t take having to explain to them who he really is and how you met him, that’s gonna be another conversation for the future when you don’t feel like you’re about to start crying the moment you open your mouth.

The ride to the airport is silent, Harry holds your hand, your glued together palms lying on your lap the whole time. You haven’t even left but you already miss him so much.

Arriving he helps you bring all your stuff inside and patiently waits until you check your baggage in, leaving you with just your carry-on. Standing near the security check, the final moment finally comes and as soon as you look into his eyes you start bawling your eyes out.

“Oh baby, come ‘ere,” he breathes out, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I told you we would make everything right, but I couldn’t,” you sob into his chest as he holds you tight. You feel like if he let go of you, you’d just turn into a puddle at his feet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he soothes you, his fingers threading through your hair.

“But it feels like it was,” you choke out. Harry leans back and takes your puffy cheeks between his warm palms, looking deep into your eyes.

“It wasn’t. As you said, it was just a matter of wrong time and place. But I think we brought the best out of it.”

“So… you don’t regret it?” you softly ask, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Absolutely not,” he smiles at you kindly. “I loved every moment of it. And I love you.” You notice how he didn’t use past tense when he said he loves you and you can’t decide if it aches your heart more or fills you with joy. A little bit both of them.

“I love you too,” you whisper before pressing your lips against his, savoring them one last time before you leave everything behind.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” he smiles sweetly when he pulls back, tugging your hair behind your ear with a gentle move.

“I really hope,” you chuckle through your tears. “Take care, Harry,” you tell him, pecking his lips just once more.

“You too, baby,” he smiles, his hands falling to his sides as he lets go of you.

Turning around you walk into security and as you go with the line towards the gates, you glance back one last time. Harry is standing in the exact same spot, eyes glued to you as he watches you disappear from his sight.

It feels like the meeting is never coming to its end. You exchange a look with Jasmine, who seems just as tired and done with this two hours long discussion as you are. She grabs her phone from the table and you watch her something type out before she eyes at your device, signaling that she just texted you.

Jas: I need alcohol after this day. Want to have a drink with me after work?

Y/N: YES PLEASE!!!!!!!

You see her smile at her screen before both of you return to your boss at the front, talking about a possible upcoming case.

“And last but not least, I want to take a moment to bring light to the excellent work Y/N, our new full-time colleague did on the Santiago case. The police were highly satisfied with the fast and precise work you did. This was your first official case since you’ve decided to accept our offer to become a full member of our team and transferred from your position as a trainee. Congrats!” William, your boss nods in your way with a proud smile as a round of applause cheers for you from your colleagues.

“You go girl!” Jasmine mouths you from across the table and you just chuckle shaking your head.

The meeting finally wraps up and everyone goes on with their day. You are walking back to your office with Jasmine by your side. Your offices are next to each other and you started working here just three weeks apart. She is the same age as you and was approached the same way as well, it’s just that she moved all the way from Australia. The two of you have grown quite close, starting a new life at the same time in a foreign country, it easily brought you together.

“So are we leaving early for those drinks or what?” she asks poking your side.

“How early?”

“I don’t know, like fifteen minutes? Come on, it’s Friday, everyone leaves early!” You shake your head chuckling at her. She can be so restless sometimes, but it’s just the right amount that she can push you out of the comfort zone just enough.

“Alright.”

“Cool, I’ll come banging on your door,” she winks at you before disappearing for her usual coffee break.

It’s two in the afternoon, you still have a few hours ahead of you and some caffeine sounds perfect actually. Though the coffee at the office is excellent, you’ve grown to like this small place nearby, a family owned business that offers the best you’ve ever had.

You grab your bag from your office and head out for a quick coffee run. The walk to the café is freshening, the weather has been treating you well lately, the Sun is beaming and you can only hope you won’t wake up to pouring rain the next morning.

You think back to how lost you were feeling just a year ago, when all of this around you were so new and a little too much at once. One month into your time in London you even thought about quitting and moving back home. You felt alone and broken, yearning after everything you left behind. Your friends, family, loved ones, everything that was so far away from you.

It took you long weeks, even months to get used to your new life and now you can’t even imagine yourself anywhere else. It doesn’t miss you don’t miss terribly the life you had still, but now you have a lot to be happy about here as well.

Waiting at a crossroad, you find yourself twirling around the strawberry ring on your finger, your thumb fidgeting with it like every time you think about your home. You glance down at it and take a deep breath before the lamp turns green and you continue your walk to the café.

It’s not rush hours so there are only a few people lingering around the small place. You don’t have to think about what you are getting, James, the barista already knows your usual and starts making it right away as you swipe your card paying your drink.

You stand at the side, waiting for your coffee, staring out the window, watching people pass by on this lovely afternoon. Your gaze stops on an old lady sitting on a nearby bench, feeding a group of pigeons and you smile as a little girl runs through the birds, making them fly away instantly. The old lady just smiles at the girl, not holding a grudge that she just scared the birds away.

Your eyes move away, watching businessmen come and go, kids going home from school, wearing their school uniforms, everything just feels so… peaceful.

You are almost about to turn away from the window when your gaze falls on a tall figure near the Sainsbury’s across the road and your lips part as you catch a glimpse of a tattooed arm you know all too well. You blink once, twice, three times, waiting for your eyes to make sure it’s the person you think it is.

Harry is standing right there, holding a little bag of groceries, eyes glued to the screen of his phone, oblivious to your shocked gaze on him. Your feet move before your brain could think it through, they take you out of the café and you stand in the middle of the sidewalk as you call out for him.

“Harry!”

His head snaps up at his name, eyes looking around, searching for the source before they finally find you, a shocked, but seemingly joyful expression plastering over his handsome face. He is quick to shove his phone into his pocket before he watches both ways and runs across the road to meet you on the other side. You can’t push your smile down as you watch him approach you, his tall, fit figure getting closer and closer until he is standing right in front of you, watching you in awe.

“Hey,” he breathes out, both of you a little unsure of what to do, how to greet each other.

It’s been months since you last talked. After your departure you kept in contact, you couldn’t just distance yourself from him so abruptly, but the thousands of miles between the two of you made it almost impossible to maintain a working connection, the time zones, all the work you both were buried under and just life itself made you drift away from each other.

But he is now standing in front of you and though he looks slightly different, he is still the Harry you know and love. He is your Harry.

“What… what are you doing here?” you ask, finally finding your voice.

“Did you forget I’m British?” you teases you and you roll your eyes.

“I mean, are you visiting family or something?”

“I uhh…” he glances down at his feet before his eyes meet yours again. “I’m actually back.”

“What do you mean?”

“My contract ended in July and I didn’t… I didn’t extend it. I came back a few weeks ago.”

Your lips part at the information. Harry is in London, he is now in the same city as you, for the first time in a whole year.

“Really? That’s… wow.” There’s too much you want to tell and ask him, yet you stand there, blinking at him, still lost in the feeling of seeing him for the first time again.

“I actually wanted to contact you when I got back, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that,” he admits with a nervous chuckle and your eyes soften over him.

“What do you mean? I would have loved it if you called.”

“It’s just that we haven’t talked in a while and I didn’t know… I didn’t know where you’re standing about me.”

“Well, seems like fate did it for you,” you smile at him warmly. “I would love to catch up. I have to head back to work now, but maybe later?”

“What about after work? When are you getting off?”

“I finish at 5.”

“I can meet you at your work if you text me the address.”

“That would be great,” you nod smiling. “My number is still the same, so you’ll know it’s me.”

“Great,” he nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in a boyish smirk. You are just now realizing how much you’ve missed him.

“I, um…” You’re trying to find the right words, still feeling overwhelmed about the sudden run-in, but at last you decide to go for a hug.

Your arms wrap around his waist, he hesitates for a moment before wrapping you in his tight embrace, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. A shiver runs down your spine as the sense of home washes over you all at once, the warmth of Harry’s body making your heart flutter. Unfortunately, the moment must come to an end. His arms fall from around you, just like they did at the airport when you said goodbye to each other over a year ago.

“I’ll… see you later then,” he smiles as you are backing towards the entrance of the café.

“Yeah, later,” you nod and turning around you walk inside.

Arriving back to the office you drop by Jasmine’s office to tell her that you have to postpone your plans after work.

“What is more important than getting drunk with me?” she gasps dramatically.

“I ran into… I met Harry,” you tell her. You told her all about Harry one evening when you were out, just a few months into your stay. It was one of those days when you were feeling extremely homesick, or maybe you just missed him terribly.

“What? Your professor ex?” she asks with widened eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, you are forgiven. Go and get the man back!”

“What?” you chuckle. “We just met after a year, how do you know I want him back? Maybe I just want to catch up with him,” you say, but it’s an obvious and blatant lie and you both know that. Jasmine gives you a look.

“Please, you are still so obviously in love with the man, don’t even try to convince me otherwise.”

You don’t protest, just bite into your bottom lip. You really are in love with him, or the version you knew a year ago. He could be an entirely different person now so you can’t be sure if your feelings are the same about the man you met today.

“Have fun with him and then tell me all about it after, okay?” she beams and you just nod, leaving her to finish her work.

As time is slowly passing by you find yourself growing nervous about seeing Harry. That short little conversation on the street was not enough to calm your nerves. What is he like now? Is he the same? Does he have new hobbies? Is he as happy to see you as you are to see him? What will he think of you? What if he doesn’t like you after all this time?

You try to push the questions to the back of your mind, not wanting to overwhelm yourself too much to the point where you chicken out of seeing him. When you’re on your way down following his text that he is waiting for you in front of the building, you are trying to keep yourself together and remind yourself that it’s just Harry, he might be a little different, but he is still kind of the same.

Luckily, the moment you spot him waiting a few feet away from the entrance, you forget about everything else, he is the only one to exist. He envelopes you in a hug when you arrive, smiling at you warmly.

“Hi, ready to go?” he kindly asks and you nod.

You settle for a nearby bar you’ve actually been to with Jasmine before. Harry insists on paying for the first round of drinks as the two of you settle in a secluded booth at the back. When he is standing at the bar you catch yourself watching him in awe. The situation is quite odd, could have never happened probably back home, the two of you casually out for a drink.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks upon returning, sitting across you.

“I was just thinking how this is the first time we are out, just the two of us.”

Harry smiles softly, probably appreciating it just the same.

The next couple of hours you both try to share anything and everything that has happened in the past year. He tells you about his last year as a professor and him not extending his contact. Coming back to London he has joined a research group for a marketing company, using his excellent knowledge to analyze human behavior in connection with different type of ads.

“It’s a lot different from being a college professor ain’t it?” you tease him and he nods chuckling.

“Guess I wanted some change. But it’s been nice, I enjoy doing a lot of research and experiments.”

Then you tell him about your time as a forensic document examiner, all the different cases you worked on and how it has been, living in London on your own. He listens to your tales about everything you’ve done with Jasmine, the concerts and karaoke bars you’ve been to and just generally your life overseas.

“Sounds like you’ve found your place, then,” he says smiling softly.

“I guess. Wasn’t an easy transition, but I’m feeling good now,” you nod. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss my past,” you add.

His eyes wander down to your hands that are fidgeting with your almost empty glass. You see how they stop over the ring and he seems surprised as he reaches out, takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the little strawberries.

“You’re still wearing the ring,” he states.

“Of course,” you smile and when he is about to let go of your hand, you grab it and hold it, needing to feel his touch.

You wanted to run back home so many times because you were missing him too badly, missed his voice, his eyes, his touch, everything and now, out of nowhere, he is here with you again, far away from the place where it all started and had to end for a while, still making you feel like home, no matter where you are.

At one point, you move to sit beside him in the booth. You just keep sharing and sharing even things you’ve talked about on the phone before. You’re just soaking each other in. His arm soon moves around your shoulders and you gladly lean into his side, placing a hand to his thigh, sparkles running through your body.

“I love this,” you hum to yourself upon finishing your last drink.

“Love what?”

“Being out with you without a worry. I always dreamt of this and it’s just… so natural. I wish we got to experience it before.”

“As you said, that was a wrong time and place. Wasn’t our fault.”

You lift your head, eyes meeting his curious green irises as he smiles down at you kindly. You’ve missed that smile, it still makes your heart skip a beat, just like at the beginning.

“And do you think it’s the right time and place now?” you prompt the question.

“It’s definitely… better,” he chuckles softly. “Unless you are seeing someone, because now would be the best time to tell me.”

“I’m not,” you shake your head smirking. “Tried to go on dates, but truth is… none of them were you. I gave up after a few terrible attempts.”

“I didn’t even try,” he shyly smiles. “I just… knew no one would make me as happy as you did. As you always do.”

Pushing yourself up a bit, you rest your forehead against his as he closes his eyes, his arm around your shoulder tightens and his other hand rests on your thigh, pulling you closer. Your palm slides up his chest and neck until you’re cupping his cheek. You place a soft lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, testing the waters out, seeing how he reacts though nothing that happened tonight tells you he wants to keep his distance.

He moves his face, nose nudging against you before his lips find yours in a kiss you’ve been longing for since you left him behind at the airport over a year ago. Your fingers lace through his hair, pulling him towards you as if he could escape from your hold any moment, but he is definitely here to stay. Your lips clash again and again, savoring each other, eagerly trying to make up for the time you lost since your departure. You melt into his arms, moving your legs across his lap as he pulls you to his lap in the booth, partially hidden from the rest of the bar, wrapped up in your little bubble. He tastes like home, his kisses feel like the first warm rays of sunshine after a long and cold winter, the only thing you couldn’t really get yourself over this whole year. Because you’ve become good at pushing your feelings down to the point where you could easily carry on, but he was always in the corner of your mind, making you wonder if you’ll ever meet again and if you do, will it be the same as before?

It’s not, because it’s better. The burdens and banters that tied you both down a year ago are now long gone, you have all the time and space in the world, nothing is restricting you. You can touch him and kiss him whenever and wherever you want. There’s no more sneaking around, no one here knows who you are and who Harry used to me to you. Here, you’re just another lovesick couple, so into each other it’s almost insane.

When he pulls back his forehead stays rested against yours as you both are trying to catch your breath. His hand runs up and down your thigh, the warmth of his palm melting your body under his soft touch.

“I love you,” he breathes out, eyes meeting yours.

“You still do?” you ask with a small smile, heart beating in your throat.

“I never stopped loving you,” he admits and you let out a shaky breath, pulling him down for a short kiss.

“Not even when I was an ocean away from you?”

“No,” he chuckles shaking his head. “If that’s possible, I loved you even more when you were away. I realized how much you mean to me and I could only hope you weren’t moving on without me.”

“I could never,” you smile at him softly. “I love you too much to do that.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you say that,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle and you kiss his lips shortly, assuring him that you feel the same way. “So… are we going to try again?”

“Do you want to?”

“There’s nothing I want more, baby,” he truthfully admits, his gaze softening at you as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to?”

“Of course,” you smile at him widely. “I think it’s settled.”

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

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[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Secret’s Out

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.

She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”

Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”

Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.

“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.

As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.

Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.

He just shrugged.

Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.

“Thank you,” she told the waitress.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”

“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”

It was a warning.

From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.

That sure shut him up.

“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.

A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.

As soon as he opened it, he froze.

“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”

Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.

“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”

But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.

“Thank you,” he announced.

It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.

Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.

These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.

Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.

“What?” Y/N asked.

She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.

Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.

It wasn’t from her childhood.

It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.

After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.

“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.

It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.

Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.

Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.

Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood. 

Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all. 

Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.

Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.

As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.

“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.

“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.

“People gawking at you.”

Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.

“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.

Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.

Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.

Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”

Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor. 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”

——————

Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.

When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.

He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.

But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.

“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.

But they were all about the same thing.

Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.

BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N

BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK

IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?

All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.

Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them. 

Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.

Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”

Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.

“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.

“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”

Jason grabbed his own phone.

One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation. 

Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father. 

“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.

“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”

Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.

Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.

She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”

“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.

And he was right.

Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.

Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.

“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”

“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”

“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”

“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”

“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”

“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.

Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.

Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.

“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.

There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.

“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”

“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”

She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”

“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.

“You don’t care?” She scoffed.

“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”

Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.

“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed lightly at that.

“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”

Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”

“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”

Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported. 

But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...

What would life be like as a Wayne?

------------------------------

Father of Mine – Bonus Content

#father of mine bonus content #father of mine #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #father!bruce wayne #dad!bruce wayne #dad!batman #batdad #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #red hood x reader #batfam #batboys

[paterson-blue]

Summary: Sackler's working on his impulse control. No, really--he is, he swears. It's just a lot harder when it comes to you.

Word Count: 8,432

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, angst with a happy ending, fluff, sexual tension, friends to lovers (but moves into established relationship), domestic shit, the regularly scheduled Sackler chaos, Sackler is soft, an anxious boy; a nervous boy, excessive gatorade drinking (it's his brand), classic Sackler banter, hair braiding, teasing, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight nose action, unprotected PIV sex (no chance of pregnancy), cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint) — let me know if I need to add anything else!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

You’d entered his life slowly, inch by inch, sneaking into his consciousness until suddenly you were all he thought about. When he’d decided to wave at you across the aisle of the bodega all those months ago he’d had no idea of what the future would hold. All he knew was that he’d been seeing you there every day like clockwork; same time, same aisle.

He always grabbed a red Gatorade and you always grabbed some sort of sugary drink of your own. Occasionally the two of you seemed to move in sync, opening the fridge, reaching up, grabbing your item, and slamming the door all in one motion together. Adam thought it was kinda funny, two strangers' lives lining up in such a way, being part of each other’s daily routine. So one day he waves, a goofy grin on his face as he points to his signature bottle of red goodness.

You blink at him in surprise before almost shyly smiling back, your eyes bright, and oh—Adam’s stomach does a dangerous little flip-flop.

He waves at you for two weeks straight until it’s not enough anymore. He comes into the bodega one day determined to talk to you but with no concrete plan of how to do it. He’s a little early in his excitement, and he finds himself having to aimlessly browse the little store like a fuckin’ idiot before the familiar bell dings and he sees you come through the door. He half-trips over to the drink aisle, trying not to come across like he’s following you around, even though he definitely is.

You’re studying the various beverages in the fridge, mouth scrunched up as you consider them. He only allows himself a moment to admire you, not wanting you to catch him staring. He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, making you look up at him. Now’s your chance, Sackler, a voice echoes in his head.

“What’s today’s flavor?” he hears himself say, and he feels relief wash over him when you give him that pretty smile.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You sigh, settling your hands on your hips. “Maybe just water.”

“What?! Bullshit! You never get water!” Oh, so he’s just gonna double down on being a creep, huh? Saying he knows exactly what you get every day? Adam wants to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead.

But then you’re letting out a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Well maybe sometimes I like to change things up. We can’t all stick to red gatorade every damn day.”

Your comeback makes Adam feel half-giddy, both from the easy banter and from the acknowledgement that you’ve been paying just as much attention to him as he has to you.

“Well, I’ll have you know that red flavored Gatorade has special health benefits that others just don’t.” He states, leaning against the cool glass of the fridge. You’ve gone back to browsing, but you keep shooting him amused little looks; his ego crows at your attention.

“Is that so?” you ask, humoring him as you indeed select a bottle of water from the bottom shelf.

He’s nodding when you straighten back up, and points accusingly at the bottle of water. “Can’t believe you’re going for the boring shit.”

“Well,” you shrug, holding the bottle to your chest, “I’m feeling pretty boring today. But I dunno, tomorrow might be different. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She doesn’t mean anything, Adam tries to tell himself. The two of you had been there together every day for the past two months. It’s not abnormal for you to assume he’ll show up again the next day. But still, your words, the between-the-lines invitation for him to see you again, makes his heart leap.

“I guess I will,” he responds firmly before grabbing his regular gatorade from the shelf. This time the two of you walk up to the register together, and before Adam can stop himself he’s digging into his jeans pocket, tugging out a couple crumpled bills. “Hey kid, lemme pay for that.”

You hesitate, but nod, chirping out a “thank you” in that sweet voice of yours. Adam slaps down the money, throwing in a pack of sunflower seeds along with the drinks. If it’s just to make the transaction last two seconds longer—to make him standing there with you two seconds longer—then he’ll keep it to himself. Soon, you’ve got your water and you're waving a goodbye as you step out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk.

Adam follows at a distance; watches you walk away, your purse slung over your shoulder, water already open and pressed to your lips. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, and then he’s sighing, looking down at his feet. It’s not until he’s trudging back home that he realizes he never even got your fuckin’ name.

_______________________________________

It’s another day before he gets your name. A week before the two of you leave together, leaning against the wall outside and sipping your respective drinks; two before he’s asking for your number. For some reason, you actually give it to him.

He’s nervous to text you first, which is unlike him. Sure, in the past he would get a little anxious, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself, but he still went through with it. But it takes him an entire day to shoot you a message, asking if you wanted to go sit in the nearby park after the bodega stop. Your answer is an immediate yes, and suddenly Adam is eying the hole in the collar of his green t-shirt, wondering if he should change.

It’s not a date. The bodega isn’t a date, the park isn’t a date—the walks and lunches, coffee shops and movie nights in the weeks following aren’t dates either. So what if he cleaned the absolute shit out of his apartment before you came over for dinner? So what if he wore his nice jeans and black dress shirt, sleeves all rolled up to show off his forearms? So fuckin’ what?

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date until, a month into all your not-date’s, you’re standing at the sink with him as the two of you tag-team-clean the dishes. He’s washing, you’re drying, and there’s an easy rhythm flowing until a soapy plate slips from your grasp as he hands it to you. The dish smacks into the water-filled sink, creating a splash that soaks the both of you. You inhale a loud gasp, laughter already in your voice.

He seems to get the brunt of it, the front of his green plaid shirt darkening as warm, sudsy water bathes the fabric. His shoulders hunch up in surprise, and you’re giggling, covering your mouth with your hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that was an accident I swear.”

“Oh I call bullshit,” he growls, a grin spreading over his face. He yanks his arms up high, wriggling his fingers over your head so that water and suds drip onto you. “Pay back!” He crows, stalking towards you. You can easily duck under his arm to sideswipe him, to escape his grasp, but you don’t.

Instead, you swat at him with the dish towel in your hands, laughing as you shuffle backwards. “You better fuckin’ not, Sackler! I’ll scream!” You make idle threats at him but he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, forward, forward, hands dripping water all over your hair and shoulders as you shriek.

“I’mmmmm gonna getcha!” he sing-songs, jumping towards you, the wood floor creaking under his big feet. He’s got you cornered now, your back against the wall—ha! His arms swoop down in an attempt to engulf you, aiming to press his wet hands and shirtfront against you, but your hands fly out to grasp his wrists to halt him.

“I just bought this shirt!”

“It’s soapy water, it’s just gonna get more clean!”

“Adam!” You laugh, your voice betraying a tone of fond exasperation. And oh, you’re all smiley and breathless, eyes shining up at him—you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, lighting up his kitchen and his heart and his whole fuckin’ life with the brightest, warmest sunshine he’s ever felt. He stares at you, admiring you freely, not able to help it. You don’t seem to mind; you’re looking straight back at him, thumbs rubbing little circles on his wrists where water was trickling down to his forearms.

Adam’s never really been one for impulse control. That shit’s just never appealed to him. What was the point? If you’re gonna do something, just fuckin’ do it—get it out there in the open and see what happens. Yeah, sometimes things don’t go well, or—okay, they go really fuckin’ bad—but sometimes things turn out for the better! And the sweet feeling of elation whenever his bet, whenever trusting his gut, pays off? It was worth the risk.

So he lunges down, capturing your face in his wet palms as he presses his lips to yours. And shit, by some strange miraculous twist of fate you’re actually kissing him back. It makes him press forward, shoulders scrunched up and back curved towards you, angling himself for you to take. He thinks he could die happy, finally having your mouth against his, finally holding you the way he’s needed since the first fuckin’ day he saw you.

You sigh into his mouth and he gobbles it up greedily, sucking at your bottom lip, full on moaning when your tongue swipes against his cupid’s bow. When you insist on pulling away to get some air he stays close to share your breath, brushing his nose against yours. You hum out a pleased little noise and he wants to melt into the floor. He thinks about doing it—about sinking to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach, holding you tight, tight, tight.

He thinks he might have, if you hadn’t reached up to card your fingers through his hair, fingertips massaging deliciously at his scalp. He presses a needy little kiss to the corner of your mouth; your lips quirk upwards at his touch. When you break the silence it’s in a hushed tone, your hands sliding over his biceps. “That was nice.”

Adam grins, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone just because he can. “I can do better,” he promises cheekily, “Just gotta let me show you.”

You laugh, saying oh really? in a way that has him preening.

“Hell yeah. I’m a very well rounded individual.” He finally straightens back up, watching you with hopeful eyes, painfully shoving back the urge to ask you if you wanted to kiss him again.

“… I’ve got work tomorrow,” you finally say, and Adam nods, because he knows you do. You took your shit seriously. But oh, you’re reaching for his hand, and the relief he feels when you touch him is immediate. “But I'm free tomorrow night,” you tell him, your own eyes bright, waiting for him to take your offering—and there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass it up.

“Well good, because we’re having dinner. That back alley Thai place. And then I’ll take you out to that gross ice cream shop down the street you like so fuckin’ much.”

You nod, bouncing on your toes a little, and it’s so goddamn cute that Adam almost dips down to kiss you again. The most he lets himself do is rub the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you intently. “And I’m fuckin’ paying, don’t even think about bringing any money.”

You offer him a grin. “Alright. It’s a date.”

Adam nods, so fast he thinks he probably looks unhinged, but hey—that’s nothing new. “You bet your ass it’s a date, kid.”

An actual date. With you. It only took three months.

_______________________________________

So yeah. Impulse control.

Never been Adam’s thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t think about his actions. Okay, well, sure, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just goes with his gut and throws caution to the wind, like when he’d kissed you. He’d just known it was what he should do, and so he did it. He likes to think most of his impulsive decisions are perfectly logical and sound, even the ones that don’t work out. It’s not his fault if other people don’t always agree with what he does. This is how he’s lived his life all these years, and it’s worked out more often than not. Why change something that isn’t broken, or whatever the saying is.

Except. He meets you. And fuck, suddenly he’s overthinking every little urge, every little snap judgement—tight-rope walking the thread of fate. He’s on edge for the best of reasons; you’re the most wonderful thing he thinks has ever fuckin’ happened to him and there’s no goddamn way he’s going to jeopardize what the two of you have. He has to do this right, has to do things properly. He’s going to date the absolute shit outta you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He likes it, really—hopping each little stepping stone that leads to more of you. Taking things slower than he has in ages, maybe ever. He knows, in the back of his mind, that if he flew into you at his usual gale force chaos, you’d accept him all the same. Because you’re good. You’re soft and sweet, and have turned his life into something golden and warm.

But you deserve more than his chaos. You were so gentle and vulnerable with him, and Adam—he wants to be the same way with you. For you. So he grapples with his impulses, shoving them down when they rear their ugly heads. He’s not gonna fuck this up, no matter how much his brain tries. And oh, does it try.

_______________________________________

For example, he almost tells you he loves you not two weeks into the course of dating you.

It’s not his fault, honest—or that’s what he tells himself. His feelings just like to…. overwhelm him. Endlessly.

See, he’d had a show—a play; one he’d been working on since before he’d waved at you in the bodega those months ago. You knew about it, sure. He’d talked about it (ranted about it) plenty of times. You always listened even if you had no clue what he was going on about, always gave him whatever he needed—whether that was being alone, or extra rehearsal time, or allowing him to flop into your couch and scream into the pillows.

Still, he hadn’t invited you to the opening night. Or any nights, actually. He was too nervous, as much as he hated to admit it—mostly about fucking things up if you were there. Honestly, the thought of you sitting, watching him, made his insides all… wriggly. And even if it was the good kind of wriggly, he’d be too hyper-aware of it, too distracted by it.

He feels guilty even if you don’t seem upset. You have brunch with him—yeah, he was doing fuckin’ brunch now. That shit was good—and then give him a goodbye kiss, telling him to “break a leg.” It makes him smile, and he insists on a couple more kisses, just for luck. And then he’s off to the final rehearsal before opening.

It goes off without a hitch, and Adam’s beyond elated—and relieved, and proud. As he scrubs off his sweat and makeup backstage, he can’t help but wish he had someone there to share his pride with. But he doesn’t have time to get into his head; there’s stupid fuckin’ rich people to schmooze outside, and the director had told him under no uncertain terms would he be in attendance.

Adam yanks on his tie as he makes his way through the theater’s halls towards the ballroom, not looking forward to the boring conversation and unnecessarily tiny food he had ahead of him. He tries to sneak his way through the crowded lobby area but it’s kind of difficult to be discreet with his sheer size—something that shouldn’t surprise him by now and yet does every single time. He forces out gentle smiles and humble “thank you’s” at the praise his performance receives, attempting to make his long legs work double time.

But then he spots something in his periphery. He’s not even sure what it is at first, really--just that it means something to him. It’s important. A flash of fabric as someone exits the large revolving doors, and there it is, that nagging in his head, that impulse. He veers off course without even thinking about it; fuck the schmoozing. Following that flutter of fabric, he shoves his way through the door and people, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. His dark eyes scan the busy street before landing on what his subconscious had been so attracted to.

You.

It stuns him at first, shocks him to silence--and not much can do that, if he’s being honest. You were here. Had you been here the whole time? Did you watch the whole thing? Were you just gonna leave? Adam thinks all these things at once, his mind a cacophony of noise, and suddenly he’s bellowing your name over the bustle of the crowd. He watches you jump, acknowledges the head turns he’s getting--he doesn’t give a fuck. You’re turning to look at him and he’s all but bounding over, zeroed in on you. You looked so goddamn gorgeous, the lights of the city casting multicolored glows over your skin.

“You’re here.” He says when he gets close enough, gaze bouncing all over you, not able to keep to one spot.

You give him a sheepish look, extending him just half a smile. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry. I wanted to come. I know you didn’t ask me to, but this show is so important to you and I--” You let out a small laugh, “--I wanted to support you, even if it was a secret?”

Adam’s chest fills with warmth, and his voice is noticeably quieter when he speaks again. “And you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye? What the fuck, kid?”

You shrug, but in a bashful way, not in a way where you’re blowing off his question. “Well, it wasn’t about me, you know? I wanted to be here for you, but until you were ready for me to be here, be here… I wasn’t wanting to, I don’t know--force your hand, or anything.”

And shit, if that doesn’t give Adam pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone do something like this for him--support him without wanting something in return, without wanting recognition for their ‘good deed.’ You were giving him yourself even when he wasn’t around to acknowledge it or thank you for it. The words almost slip out of his mouth right then and there. I love you. It would be so simple.

They’re on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out in the open area between the two of you at a moment’s notice; he does the only thing he can think of to stop it from happening. He lunges forward, half yanking you to him as he slams his mouth down onto yours. It's… not as gentle as he intends, but he’s desperate, because the words are already leaving his lips in a muffled jumble. He’s kissing you on the crowded sidewalk like he’s fuckin’ starving for it, like he can’t breathe without it. Maybe he can’t. He sure isn’t stopping to find out.

“Adam--” you murmur into his mouth, and he grunts at you in response, which earns him a laugh. Your hands slip over his dress shirt, underneath his suit jacket, and he leans into your touch. You pull away from his lips, but press lingering kisses to his jaw, and Adam thinks maybe it’s an okay compromise. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close; says the only (other) thing he can think of--that he knows he has to get off his chest.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ date anyone else. Don’t wanna kiss anyone else. Just you.” He makes sure to look at you when he says it, not caring how intense he comes across. If he can’t say that he loves you outright, he’ll do it in every other little way he can. “I wanna do boyfriend shit for you. Like—like make you canned soup when you’re sick and—and text you whenever I see a fuckin’ tree that reminds me of you.”

You smile up at him in that way that makes him feel ridiculously small and a million feet tall all at once. “Boyfriend shit, huh? Does that mean I need to start thinking of girlfriend shit to do?”

Adam nods briskly, but then pauses, his hands sliding up and down your back. “Only if you want to.” He tries to school his tone into something soft and neutral, trying to protect himself in case you say no.

But then you’re relaxing into his chest, resting your head over his thrumming heart. “I want to.”

He’s glad you can’t see his grin, and he holds you tighter to him, hoping you wont notice the way he’s literally fuckin’ vibrating with happiness. He wants to shout, wants to yell out at everyone passing by on the street. Hear that, everyone?! She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend now! Mine!! Ha!

“Do you wanna come back inside with me?” He asks instead, trailing his fingertips up and down your arm. “I have to go suck up to a bunch’a idiots so they’ll give the director some money. They might be willing to give more if I bring along some hot eye candy.”

You snort, pulling away from him; his gaze flits over your face, taking in your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. You were happy. He made you happy. It’s all he ever wants, really. You agree to coming with him, and he gives you his arm to hold onto as he escorts you back into the building, head held high with pride.

_______________________________________

Of course, it just makes things harder.

He’s swallowing down “I love you’s” left and fuckin’ right: when you pick him up from an audition and hand him a red gatorade. When you remember his lunch order from the café down the street. When you laugh at something dumb he’s said—a joke he knows isn’t that funny.

When, alternatively, you say Sackler in that exasperated-yet-fond tone whenever he’s said something annoying. When the two of you sit quietly in the living room together, each doing work, comfortable in the silence. When you pass behind him while he’s cooking and brush a gentle hand against his back, casual as can be.

He swallows the words down the first time he stays over at your place. It’d been an accident; he’d fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from an out-of-state visit to see his niece. He’d woken up in the morning to the smell of coffee, finding himself tucked under blankets. You’d come over when you saw that he was awake; brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes, said- “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He starts staying over a lot more after that, in your bed instead of the couch. Each time he wakes up next to you, wrapped around you, one of you half on top of the other—his chest fuckin’ aches. And still, his brain tells him to keep his thoughts to himself, to hold his feelings in his chest until the right moment. What’s the right moment? He asks himself. He never receives an answer.

It’s a torture he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to fuckin’ do with himself. The first time you climb into his lap, tugging his jeans open, wrapping your perfect hands around his cock--all he can do is stare up at you, plush mouth hanging open, barely daring to breathe much less let the usual filth fall from his lips.

Because holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, so perfect for him, and he’s pretty sure if he tries to say a single thing he’s going to let it slip. So he just yanks you close, biting at your lips, letting you swallow down his grunts and groans. He touches you everywhere--tries to let his hands do the talking for him.

He thinks he should probably tone down just how fervently he’s staring at you as he presses his thick fingers deep inside your pussy, but he has to see, has to know he’s making you feel good. “Tell me.” He manages to say, voice hoarse as he glances down to see your sticky wetness on his fingers before he pushes them back in, thumbing at your clit as he does so. “Tell me how it feels.”

You’re quiet but from your whimpers and whines, and Adam almost adds on a desperate please before you’re suddenly speaking, your words more of a babble as he works you. “F-Feels good, Adam, baby, feels so full. Can--can you--a little faster?”

A little faster? He can do that. He speeds up the motion on your clit, curling his fingers against that special spongy area inside as he pounds them in and out of you, brown eyes nearing black as he stares you down. “Like this?” he growls out, and instead of answering with words you let out a squeal, your hips jerking against him as your eyes roll back in your head.

Adam grins, breathless and feral. “Yeah. Like that, huh? Pretty girl.” The feeling of you cumming on three of his big fingers is enough to drag a long moan out of his chest; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. “That’s it, doll, ride my fingers—good girl, so fuckin’ needy for me.”

You’re all clingy afterwards, clutching at him; he clutches right back, pressing his face into your shoulder, listening to you breathe. I love you, he thinks. I fuckin’ love you.

When you finally let him press his face between your legs one night, the words echo endlessly in his head. He’s lost in you, in the pressure of your thighs against his ears, your hands clutching at his shaggy hair, the way you clench so sweetly against his tongue. He rubs his face back and forth, smearing your slick all over himself greedily, sliding his nose up and down your clit. You let out an uninhibited, shuddering noise and he smirks, eagerly sucking at your folds.

He lets his eyes flick up to look at you, taking in the softness of your stomach, your heaving tits, the arch of your neck as you toss your head back against the pillows. He can’t see your face like this but he doesn’t fuckin’ care, not when he has the vision of you before him, your soft skin under his palms, the tangy sweetness of you in his mouth.

You cry out his name when you orgasm, your hips bucking against his face and Adam just goes along for the ride, using his hands to ease your frenetic movements. He spells it out with his tongue against your clit as you slowly come back down, blood rushing in his ears.

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U.

It’s a warm, early fall night when he fucks you for the first time, slow and deep, the bedroom windows cracked and letting in the nightly noise of the city. He doesn’t hear any of it--hears nothing but you and the sounds your bodies make together. There’s no rushing, no dirty words falling from his lips--there’ll be more than enough time for that later. Right now was about the slick slide of his cock in you, his eyes trained on yours, all wide like he’s surprised by this--shocked that any of its happening. In a way, he is.

Adam reaches out to settle a giant palm on your cheek, holding you, rubbing his nose against yours as he rolls his hips, muscles flexing under his skin as his back arches. He wants closer to you--closer, closer, and closer still--so he shuffles up the bed. It's a little awkward, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he can get deeper. You’ve got your knees hugging his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulder blades, making the prettiest noises in his ear. Adam, you say, and somehow his name has a thousand meanings in this moment. Adam, Adam, Adam.

Hearing it makes his toes curl up, makes him choke out a moan into your neck. “Fuck, I’m--I--” He fumbles for your face, breathing hot and heavy as he mouths over your skin to find your lips, kissing you sloppy to shut himself up. You’re clenching tight around his cock, a hand snuck down to rub quick little circles on your clit as you get close.

He doesn’t watch you as you cum this time, not when you’re pulling his own orgasm out of him, milking him for all he’s worth. He’s drenched in sweat, trembling as he sucks in shaky breaths. No thoughts fill his mind, head completely fuckin’ empty but for the pleasure humming through his veins.

You laugh afterwards, the two of you curled up together, Adam having collapsed to the side in an attempt not to crush you. He gives you a crooked grin of his own, sliding one big palm over your tummy, rubbing it as he slings a massive thigh over your legs. “Good?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he starts to finger your belly button. You bat his hands away, calling him a fucking weirdo even as you lean in to capture his lips with yours. He nips at your bottom lip happily, smoothing his hand over your side, grabbing whatever part of you he can.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “-but I’m the fuckin’ weirdo you have custody of.” You smirk, and then you’re tugging on his shoulders, trying to haul him closer to you. You both need to shower--to clean up, probably drink some water, more than likely change the sheets. But maybe, he thinks to himself as he curls up half on top of you, nuzzling into your cheek--maybe it can wait for just a little longer.

____________________________________

“Fuckin’—ow!”

“Adam, stop moving around—“

“Well stop pulling my fuckin’ hair!”

You sigh at him, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a hard look in the mirror. Adam pouts, slumping on the stool he was sitting on; he knew he was being whiny but his scalp was fuckin’ sensitive!

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair, remember?” You point out, grabbing another elastic from the countertop. “You practically begged me.”

“I didn’t beg.” He huffs, making a face at you. You don’t move, and he chances a look at his watch—fuck, he was gonna be late if this took too much longer. “… Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll sit still. Promise.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes; he’s heard they were pretty effective. He’s pleased when you finally step forward, reaching up to comb through his hair again, pulling it out of his face and plaiting it across the top of his head.

He’s landed an actual honest-to-fuck movie role. A little indie film, sure, but it was still another stepping stone in his career. He was beyond excited, was putting his all into it—and, apparently, since his character was a boxer, that meant doing early morning training followed by choreography.

It was fine, really. He was enjoying it, and he liked learning a new sport, liked feeling the burn in different muscles of his body. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, it was just fuckin’ intense. Some days absolutely kicked his ass but he was always eager to come back for more. His trainer, Beth, said she liked that about him. It gave Adam a sense of pride about what he was doing.

It’s just that his damn hair kept getting in the way. It would get all sweaty, sticking all over his skin, flying into his eyes at the most inopportune moments. He’d tried to put it up into a ponytail but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Finally last night, after days of his complaining, you’d told him he just needed to braid it. I don’t know how to do that shit, he’d said, and you’d snorted, and here the two of you were.

“M’gonna be late.” He warns, leg bouncing up and down, jittery. He’d been on time—early, even—to every single session so far, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

“You won’t be late,” you murmur, twisting the tiny elastic around the end of the braid, making him wince just a little—he shuts his eyes against the sting. They have to be tight or they won’t hold, you’d said. Your hands sweep his remaining loose hair behind his ears, combing your fingers through it as you give your work a once over.

“I think they’re okay. They shouldn’t fall apart, at least. No more hair getting in your eyes.” You scratch your nails lightly at the back of his neck, a silent apology for the strain on his scalp, before moving to rub the shells of his ears between your thumbs and forefingers. Adam makes a small, pleased noise at the sensations, leaning back into your chest. He wants to stay here like this, with you, but he knows he can’t.

“How do I look?” He questions, eyes still closed. Your hands slide down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He feels when you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“Cute.” You tell him, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Very pretty.”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, wrinkling up his nose. “Cute?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “I can’t look fuckin’ cute while I’m boxing!” You just shrug, as if to say ‘well, what am I supposed to do about it?’, and then start putting up your supplies. Adam wants to keep on teasing you, but instead he hauls himself to standing, heading into the living room to grab his boots.

You trail in after him as he’s shoving them on his feet and perch on the edge of the couch to watch him. He speaks as he ties the laces, hyper-aware of the time even though the subway was only a couple minute walk from your apartment. “I shouldn’t be home late. Probably be back before you, even.”

Home. It only half registers that he says it, that he refers to your place as his. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now; besides, you only nod at him, like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. He hops up, heavy feet stomping across the floor as goes to grab his trusty backpack. When he passes you on the way to the front door he drops a gentle kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks for my hair.” He says as he slips his arms through the straps of the bag and proceeds to pat his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

“Wait!” You’re crying out suddenly, making him freeze in place, looking at you with wide eyes. He watches you rush over to the fridge, digging in it for a moment or two; he gives his watch another nervous glance.

“Kid, what the hell…?” Adam scratches at the back of his neck, bouncing on his toes, ready to get out the door. When you shut the fridge, you’ve got two tupperware containers and a red gatorade in your hands; you hurry over to him, a small smile on your face.

“Here.” You tug him around with surprising strength, maneuvering him until you can unzip his backpack and put the plastic boxes and drink into the large pocket. “I made you lunch and some snacks. Don’t worry, it’s all protein. I know you always pack water but I wanted you to have more than that.”

Adam whips back around the second he’s allowed, his chest feeling warm and fluttery. He steals another kiss, one large hand on your jaw, nudging his nose against your cheek. Knowing he has to keep it short he pulls away, brushing his thumb over your chin as he does so. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t really know how to express what your actions mean to him. When had you even packed that? Last night, while he was asleep?

You give him a gentle smile, nuzzling your face into his palm. “You better get going. You’ll be late.”

Adam exhales. You always gave him an escape route, and he always fuckin’ took it. “Right, yeah. Okay.” He steps back, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. “Have a good day.” He yanks open the front door; when you speak again, your words are rushed, clearly not wanting to keep him.

“You too! Oh, can you pick up some bread on your way home?

“What? Oh, bread—yeah, sure—“ He’s stepping through the door, mind already focused on the day ahead. His hand finds the doorknob by muscle memory— “Sounds good, I can do that, love you!”—and the door slams shut behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, his long strides getting him to the subway station sooner than he thought.

It’s not until he’s two stops down, staring blankly out the window as he stands in the crowded subway car, that he realizes what he’s done. Dread settles in his gut, heavy like lead, and his stomach twists. Fuck. Fuck! How could he have done something so stupid?

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts, feeling like they’re all clammy. He’d said ‘I love you’, tossed it to you like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing! Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d ruined everything—pressured you somehow? Jesus Christ, well, guess it was time for him to leave the country. Or at least, move across town. New York was big enough to hide in, right?

He makes his way to the gym in a daze, his chest feeling all tight with anxiety. Getting into his routine is a struggle, and it frustrates him even more. Beth finally tells him to just have at one of the punching bags for a little bit, which does help loosen him up. Adam thinks it’s a tad ironic that imagining punching himself makes him feel better.

It’s not until he’s lumbering to the bodega to grab the bread you asked for, body aching and sticky with sweat, that he remembers you aren’t supposed to be home yet. He could sneak in undetected, plan an escape, or at least formulate some sort of explanation for his morning mistake. Though, he’s pretty sure saying “it was an accident, like when you were a kid and called your teacher ‘mom’” to his girlfriend wouldn’t bode well.

He knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s never fuckin’ felt like this about someone before! He thought he’d known what love was; he thought he’d been in love in his past relationships. But he’s always said the words too fast, threw himself head first into the deep end. And yeah, he had loved them, in a way—cared about them, wanted them to care for him, too. But this? The all-encompassing affection and support you gave him? Your acceptance of him? He’s never had this before.

He’s never had someone want him fully as he is. And he wanted you the same way, loved every fuckin’ inch of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you; wants you by his side, forever. He feels so much that it scares him. And the thought of you not feeling the same, of you not wanting what he did—of his confession of love being something one-sided.

Adam was fucking terrified.

But he can’t run away. He knows he can’t. He always did, and always came back when it was far too late—when people were done with him. He won’t do that with you.

So he takes the steps up to your apartment one by one, trudging slowly, the loaf of bread held to his chest as if it would protect him somehow. He fumbles with the key in the lock, finally pushing through the door and kicking it closed behind him. Looking up, he freezes, heart leaping into his throat. There you were, sat on the couch.

“… I thought you’d be at work,” he says after a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forces his body into movement, numbly going to put the bread on the countertop before setting down his backpack and removing the empty containers from his lunch. He can feel your eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at you; it makes him hunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“I had a meeting get canceled,” you inform him, voice holding on to a certain edge even while your tone is light. There’s silence, Adam trying to pretend like he’s busy in the kitchen even though it’s pretty obvious he isn’t. “Sackler.” There’s that stern-yet-fond tone he loves hearing so much, and it’s impossible for him to ignore you. He chances turning around, giving you what he hopes is a blank look.

“Will you please come here?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him at this point, and his brain is telling him that you’re definitely up to something. But then, you’re standing up, and he registers you’re wearing his favorite tiny tank top—and nothing else—and he finds his feet tripping over to you before he can help it.

“Fuck, kid, look at you.” He breathes, hands reaching out greedily to grab at your tits, the softness of your hips, your bare ass. You laugh, pushing him down onto the couch, pressing your hand between his legs as you lean in to kiss him. He groans, bucking his hips up, already impatient. Shit, it would be so easy to just slip down the waistband of his shorts, yank you down onto his cock—

“Thank you for getting the bread,” you murmur against his lips, leaning over him, one knee on the couch. Adam lets out a strangled sort of laugh.

“This is because I got bread?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, and he still doesn’t believe you, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re pulling his hand between your thighs and his fingers are delving on instinct. You’re wet. Wetter than you normally are starting out like this. He swallows hard as he finds your entrance, as three of his thick fingers slip in easily.

“Fuuuuuhhck,” he groans, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze, “-you dirty fuckin’ girl. Did you get yourself all ready for me? Too eager for my big cock to wait?” He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as you whine, your hands tugging insistently at his shorts. He’s quick to help you pull them down along with his briefs, the both of you scrambling to be connected.

The second you slide down onto his cock he’s throwing his head back, thighs straining as he tries not to thrust into you with abandon. “Always so fuckin’ good,” he bites out, jaw clenched and voice all gravelly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he prepares to guide you at a punishing pace.

But then one of your hands is finding his face, angling him to look at you while your other hand balls itself in his shirt—and fuck, he hadn’t even had time to get his shirt off yet.

“Adam,” you say, all breathless, clenching around his cock in a way that has him grunting in response, almost fuckin’ shaking with need. You say his name again as you tug on his shirt, pulling the fabric up his chest. He reluctantly lets go of your hips in order to help get the offending garment off his torso, but then he’s right back to you, hands squeezing your ass.

“C’mon, baby, need you to move. Need to feel this tight fuckin’ pussy riding me.” His voice is little more than a growl, and he pulls you in to crash his lips to yours before you can respond. He’s overwhelmed, needy, previous anxiety forgotten—he forgot most things when you were so tight and warm and wet around him.

He plants his boot covered feet on the ground and thrusts upwards, a broken moan leaving his chest as you gasp into his mouth. You plant your hands on his shoulders and he thinks finally, you’re going to give him what he so badly needs. But then you’re pulling away from him, settling into his lap like you had all the time in the world, a little smirk on your face.

“We need to talk, Adam.”

He stares at you, gobsmacked; his cock does a little twitch inside of you, like it’s as confused as he is. “Talk? Now?” You nod, resolute, and Adam let’s out a long, hot breath through his nose. “What,” he bites out, palms kneading your ass; he thinks maybe his eye twitches, “—do we need to talk about?”

“Did you mean it this morning?” Your voice is all quiet as you run your fingertips over his french braids, then down to curl his loose hair behind his ears. “When you said you loved me?”

Adam’s mind—so singularly focused on fucking you—grinds to a complete halt. He gapes at you, unable to come up with any sort of excuse, any sort of witty counter to your question. It’s then that he realizes what you’ve done, you little fuckin’ minx—you’ve weaponized sex against him!

You fuckin’ knew he wouldn’t be able to think like this. Maybe he should be mad, but he knows--he knows this is exactly what he needs. So he closes his mouth, swallowing hard and sliding his hands from your ass to the small of your back, holding you close.

“Yes.” It’s shaky, falling from his lips. He tries to make his voice more firm. “I love you.” And then, just to double down on it: “I’m so in love with you it scares the shit outta me. I love fuckin’—everything about you. I never wanna love anyone else ever again, not if it's not you.”

His heart is beating wild in his chest, and the pervy little part of his brain wonders if you can feel it through his dick. You lean in and kiss him all slow, squeezing your perfect fuckin’ pussy around him, and his hands move further up your back to pull you into him. He feels unsteady, like he’s jumped off a precipice into the unknown. He’s dizzy with the relief of his confession, with the worry of your reaction even as you kiss him, with the feeling of such a tight, slick, heat around his cock.

“I love you, too.”

He almost misses it with the way you murmur it into the corner of his mouth and with his head spinning from overstimulation. He blinks at you, giving you those big brown eyes and his jaw works as his mind catches up to speed. You smile, dropping more kisses over his strong features, then laugh when he finally yanks his head back to stare at you, his breath catching in his chest.

“You love me.” It’s not a question, but more of a confirmation; him reassuring himself that what he’d heard was real. You nod, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders, down his biceps. His eyes search yours as his hips shift underneath you, making you sigh happily. Something in him snaps.

He re-positions his feet on the floor, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other wrapped around the back of your neck. Your eyes widen, and you have a split second to balance yourself against his chest before he’s snapping his hips up, fucking into you at a frantic pace. The gasp you make is music to his fuckin’ ears.

“Say it again.” He growls at you, gaze drifting over your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his thrusts. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

Your words make him moan, and he doesn’t care how ridiculous he sounds. “Again,” he demands, voice ragged, and you obey—you say it over and over again until his mind is filled with it, the words a soothing balm for all his insecurities. You cry out, trembling in his lap, his cock deep inside you, and Adam is overcome.

He holds you there, the hand on your neck moving between your legs to rub quick circles on your clit. “I fuckin’ love you too, goddamn, this tight little pussy. You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my big fuckin’ cock?” He’s panting, staring you down, not letting you look away. “Fuckin’—say it when you cum. Please—please.”

You nod quickly, mouth hanging open, squirming so deliciously on his cock as your cunt gets tighter and tighter around him. He isn’t sure he’s even breathing, fingers moving desperately as you sob out his name, hips jerking in his lap. Your hands clutch at him, fingers raking at his chest as you chant I love you, I love you, the words all broken by your cries and whines. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

“Fuuuuhhhhck.” Adam groans between gritted teeth, eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy squeezes his cock like it’s trying to milk him, like it’s begging for all his fuckin’ cum. He lets out loud, feral, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back—he isn’t done with you yet. “Oh, you feel so fuckin’ good, jeeeezus.” His words sound all strangled, and he has just the smallest bit of sense to wrap his arms around you when you slump into his chest.

Your breaths are short little pants against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of them—of you in general, the weight of you on top of him, your sticky skin against his, your body heat. “I love you.” He croaks out, saying it again just because he can. You hum in response, nuzzling your face closer; it makes him smile.

He trails the pads of his fingers down your spine and then back up, feeling the texture of your skin. You were his. His to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He was yours.

It’s a heady, hopeful thought that tastes like the future.

______________________________________________________________

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[javier-pena]

take

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit (that means 18+/no minors!!)

Summary: Javi and you are enjoying breakfast on his yacht until things take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: mentions of food | thigh riding | dirty talk | orgasm delay/denial | public sex (I’m sure what they’re doing is actually illegal) | daddy kink | implied sugar daddy Javi Gutierrez | Javi is a Tease (capital T to show how serious his crimes are) | Javi in that orange shirt

Notes: I saw a picture of Javi and all I could think was, “I wanna feed him berries”. So that’s the reason I wrote this fic. That’s the only excuse I have. Oh and also that I want Javi to call me a bad girl but whatever, we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, as always, I owe most of this to Dani @javierpcna​, literally everything I write should come with Dani’s name listed as co-author, her support knows no bounds, she literally drops everything when I send her a fic to proofread, and this was no different. And she also lets me use her brilliant lines from time to time, for which I can never repay her.

Notes II: I have neither seen the movie nor have I read the script, so if there are any spoilers in there (I doubt it) I didn’t put them in intentionally.

Notes III: Artwork by @honestly-shite​ | Moodboard by @frankiemorales​

***

One.

He lets you feed him one berry, but only after you tell him how good they taste, how they melt on your tongue, how they fill your mouth with a soft sweetness. He raises an eyebrow at that, and you know what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he takes the small blueberry from your outstretched fingers, leaning on the laden breakfast table to make it easier for you to reach him. The berry is so small it’s impossible for him to pull it in between his lips without the tip of your finger vanishing, too. You shudder at the sensation, shudder despite the heat, despite the hotness of his tongue brushing against your sensitive skin.

Javi hates breakfast. He hates dedicating time during his busy day, during the mornings when he feels most productive, to eating when it can be done en passant. You keep telling him it’s not healthy to eat while he’s distracted, and you’ve been trying to convince him to have breakfast with you for a few weeks now.

Why, babe? You said distraction is bad for me when I eat.

He still doesn’t eat during the mornings, only drinks his heavy, smoky, black coffee, but he keeps you company now whenever he can. He reads to you from the morning paper, he tells you about his plans for the day, or he listens to you talking about a dream you had last night or about things you would like to do with him one day. And today … today he even made time to take you out on his yacht, to anchor it in a secluded bay where there’s no noise except the lapping of the waves against the bright white hull of the ship and the cries of the seagulls circling above, hoping to snatch a crumb of the croissant on your plate. Today, he’s made time to be with you.

Two.

You try it again, another berry, another taste of sweetness, another burst of flavor and color and sugary juices. This time it becomes clear he’s chasing something else, craving something else, as he sucks on your finger, just for a brief moment, just under the pretense of getting the sticky juice off your skin, but he also isn’t shy about it, he also doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. Your skin prickles when he releases the digit, and you pull your hand back across the table too quickly, too hastily. He notices and leans back on his expensive outdoor couch with a satisfied sigh.

You dry your finger against the hot skin of your leg, already burning up with the heat of the approaching day, even though you keep to the shadows. Only your feet rest on an empty chair in direct sunlight, while you keep the rest of your body safe under a wide canopy. Javi is doing the complete opposite. He’s lounging in direct sunlight, and you’ll never understand how he can stand it. Your skin always starts to tickle and itch from the heat, while he looks like he was made to live in a Mediterranean country and spend his days in the sun.

The bright, orange shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned to expose half his chest. His bronze skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot tear your eyes away from it, imagining what it would feel like to run your fingers over it, how hot it would feel under your hands, how he would sigh and relax into your touch. His chest is your favorite place in the entire world. You feel safe when you rest your hand on it, when he softly runs his fingers along your arm, tells you how beautiful you look, how he will always take care of you, no matter what, how you’ll never need to worry about anything ever again because you’re his and he’s yours. And you feel oh so secure when you’re trapped under it, when you feel its weight pressing down on you, when your sharp nails leave angry, red scratches on his soft skin as he whispers into your ear – encouraging, soothing, filthy.

Three.

You want to see it move, see the muscles flex and strain as he leans forward again to accept a third berry from you. And this time he’s not shy about it anymore. This time, he does suck your finger in between his lips, the berry forgotten, and you see his eyes widen behind his dark sunglasses. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight. He releases your finger with a wet pop and suddenly this isn’t enough. Suddenly you need more, more of him, but you lower your gaze to your plate instead to hide your shining eyes. There is a time and place for these things and the deck of his yacht in broad daylight isn’t it.

But you cannot deny what your body wants, even though your mind tells the aching between your legs to shut up. You push yourself out of your chair fast and within a few steps you’re leaning against the railing, hoping to catch a breeze to soothe your flushed face. But there is none, only unbearable heat.

When you turn around again, you feel a different kind of heat; Javi’s gaze is on you as he takes you in. You know he loves to do this, especially when you’re wearing something he bought you, like you’re doing this morning – an expensive black bikini that leaves little to the imagination, one you found on your bed one morning with a small note that made you shudder, so you decided to save it for a special occasion. And you were right to do so because he’s unable to tear his eyes away from you.

You walk back to the table as slowly as possible, determined to finish breakfast, but something pulls you toward him, like an invisible rope slung around your waist, like his gaze is enough to make you lose all sense of control. And before you know it, you’re straddling his thigh, while he pulls you into a kiss, one that lasts forever yet not long enough, one that sets you on fire more than the sun on your back yet makes you want to expose more skin so more of you will get burned.  

The second his teeth release your lip his hands fly up to rest against your hips, his grip firm but easy to get out of if you wanted to. “Is there something you wanted, baby?” he asks you, innocence written all over his face, as if he truly is completely unaware of the effect he has on you, of the things he makes you want to do when his eyes follow you around like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

You bite your lip, bite the spot that still feels raw from where he sucked on it moments earlier, and then you start rolling your hips, start chasing the friction to relieve some of the hot, searing pressure that’s been building between your legs since he sucked your finger into his mouth. You see his eyes lower dangerously when he realizes what it is you want from him, and everything shifts, shifts as if the yacht is hit by a strong wave. You’re all too familiar with this change and you know exactly what it means, and what it entails.

One of your hands lands on the collar of his shirt out of its own free will, your fingers clawing at the material in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The palm of your other hand presses against his warm, sun-kissed chest, your nails eager to leave marks on his skin. But instead of pressing into your touch, he leans back and watches you with mild interest.

This is all the permission you need. You grind your hips with a sense of purpose now, and when you feel the muscles of his leg tense between yours, a small whimper escapes your lips.

He smirks at you, and you know his eyes are sparkling, even though you can’t really see them. “Come on,” he urges you, pressing up into you, “make yourself feel good.”

With a desperate moan, your head falls onto his shoulder, your forehead scraping against his shirt, and you bite your lip because it’s the only thing stopping you from biting the exposed skin of his neck. You know he’d like that, he likes it when you are rough with him, but it also unleashes something in him you want to keep locked away today. You know it’s selfish and greedy, but all you want to do this morning is take, and not think about him.

He makes that resolve very difficult to keep.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks you, a hand at the back of your neck, trying to get you to lift your head.

You don’t answer him, you can’t, but you indulge him and lift your head again. You pick up the pace, determined to show him how much you like it, how good it makes you feel, but he only smirks at you again, like he doesn’t need an answer anyway, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

And suddenly, suddenly that selfish streak is gone, and you want him closer to you, all over you, inside of you. You don’t care that you have to give up the last bit of control you cling to, and give yourself over completely to him, you don’t care that it’s broad daylight and that another boat could sail into your tiny bay any second now, you don’t care about being discovered or about this being, strictly speaking, illegal. You just care about him fucking you like he does when he has you to himself, sprawled out under him, trapping you with his broad chest and toned arms, forcing you to take whatever he gives you.

But before you can tell him any of that, the hand at the back of your neck is gone and he lifts up his sunglasses and tosses them aside, so you can look right into his eyes, so you can see that you’re not the only one who’s affected by all of this. His gaze roams all over you, from your eyes shining with hazy lust to your legs squeezing around his thigh and your hips rolling with an urgency, pushing you steadily closer to finding the release you’re chasing. But this isn’t enough, you both know that; it’s enough to keep the fire going, but not enough to push you over the edge.

His free hand brushes against the exposed skin of your belly, his fingers run along the seam of your bikini top, and you push yourself forward, willing him to cup your breasts, pinch your nipples, anything, anything to relieve the ache and burning, the feverish craving you feel for his touch, his lips, his words that leave no doubt about who is in control. But he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, his hand moves to your back to steady you, to hold you in place, and all he does is toy with the strap of your top holding everything in place at the back of your neck.

You don’t know what makes you look down to where your bodies are connected, but you do, and he follows your gaze. You both watch as a dark patch forms on the light fabric of his slacks, as it spreads more and more with each thrust of your hips.

“You’re making a mess,” Javi breathes quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the water against the yacht’s hull. His gaze is transfixed, his attention is on the evidence of your arousal as he watches with great interest. You feel heat spread from your chest along your arms and up your neck to your face, but you don’t stop.

“Look at you, princess,” he goes on, his left hand gripping your side tighter to slow you down until you drag yourself along his leg painfully slowly. “Look at how you’re getting daddy’s trousers all wet, they’re probably ruined now.” He pauses at your sharp intake of breath. There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he speaks next. “You’re a bad girl.”

You’re pretty sure the sound you make isn’t human. He lets go of your side and rests his hand on your thigh, letting you set the pace again.

“Please,” you whine, and you don’t quite know why you say it, what you want him to do, you just know he needs to do something, or you’ll go crazy. “Please, Javi,” you repeat. “Please, just … touch me,” you finish, and it’s stupid, he is touching you, just not in the way you mean, but you cannot come up with anything else to say.

“You’re always so greedy,” he observes, not making any move to fulfil your request. “I’m already giving you what you want and still you want more. Don’t you want to be daddy’s good girl?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You wouldn’t know your own name if he asked you right now. Not because of the things he’s saying but because he raises his leg ever so slightly to push up against your clit and every coherent thought you might have had is drowned out by incoherent sounds leaving your mouth. You press down against him, grinding down with so much force he’s bound to lower his leg. Only … he doesn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he says, a picture of calmness and poise. “Can you repeat that for me?”

You absolutely cannot because you can’t remember what you said in the first place, but you give it another try. “Javi, please, give me something,” you swallow, “anything. Touch me, please.”

“No,” he says, but his voice sounds strained now, like uttering that two-letter word takes a lot of effort. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please,” you say again, knowing it won’t be enough. “Please, I can’t …”

“Why not?” he wants to know.

“It’s not enough, I ...,” you swallow again, your throat completely dry, “why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh, baby, you’re not even trying to get yourself off,” Javi chuckles. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I am trying,” you tell him, but it’s nothing more than a desperate whine.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks you.

And he’s right, it is, it was ten minutes ago when you thought all you had to do was look pretty and he’d fuck you, but now that he’s seen right through you, now that he has decided he doesn’t want to give you anything more than he has to, it isn’t anymore. You want so much more than this, and you know there’s just one way to get it.

With a small movement you change your position slightly until you roll your hips against where he’s straining against the fabric of his slacks, and a low hiss is your reward, followed by a sharp slap to your ass that makes your hips stutter, and you lose your steady rhythm. Both his hands are on your hips again and he pushes you down hard against the firm muscles of his thigh.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna give you what you came here for, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Javi,” you groan.

His hands move your hips, his arms straining with the effort of keeping you in place, and you let him, even though all you can think about is his hard cock only inches away from you. You think about him pushing into you, about the filthy, wet sounds it would make, about how he’s the only one who can reach so deep inside of you he makes you see stars with every thrust.

“All right,” Javi says. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You can have it.”

You’re sure you misheard. You’re sure he didn’t just say that. After all he’s put you through, he won’t give in that easily. But you clench around nothing nevertheless, clench around thin air at the thought of him inside of you.

“Later,” he adds, and your heart almost stops. “I’m gonna fill your pretty mouth, but only if you’re good for me.”

You want to, you’re trying to, but you cannot do this anymore. If he’s not going to touch you, if he won’t fuck you, you have to do it yourself.

One of your hands leaves his strong shoulders and you frantically push the fabric of your swimsuit aside, pressing a finger against your aching clit. You moan in relief, but it only lasts a moment, because his left hand closes tightly around your wrist without any warning, and he twists your arm until he has it in a firm grip pressed against your back. The ring he wears on his little finger digs painfully into your soft skin.

“You were doing so well,” he says with a disappointed sigh.

“It’s not –,” you start, but you’re not allowed to finish the sentence.

“No, it is enough,” he tells you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

But he does reach up, he does pull the string of your top until it comes loose and your tits spill out. He lets go of your arm but before you can decide what to do with your newfound freedom, his fingers close around your throat at the same time as his mouth closes around one of your nipples.

That’s all it takes.

You arch your back with a scream and come right there on his thigh in broad daylight, while he holds you in place with hands and mouth. It goes on forever, or at least it feels like that, and he’s unrelenting, first sucking one nipple into his mouth, then biting down hard on the other. When it becomes clear he’s not planning on stopping, you grab a fistful of his soft curls and pull him away from your chest with a sharp tug.

“Had enough?” he asks, his lips shiny and slightly swollen.

You nod slowly because you don’t trust your voice right now.

“Well, I haven’t,” he growls. “And I will tell you when you’ve had enough.”

taglist: @badbatches​, @darksber​, @doin-stuff​, @filthybookworm​, @for-my-satisfaction​, @frannyzooey​, @javigutierrez​, @karkii​, @pann-malii​, @raspberrymama​, @silksaddle​, @skeletonstwins​, @skyshipper​, @sunnydunnydays​

#the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez #pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #i hope it makes sense #i'm high up in the mountains so if it doesn't it's the lack of oxygen

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here!

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* “Everyone in school thought you were dead.”

* Jessica says bluntly as you walk down the pink streamer filled hallway

* you offer her a fake yawn and a smile.

* “My dad came by for a surprise visit.” She looks confused before her expression smooths

* “Oh your real dad, not Carlisle”

* Carlisle contacted his counterpart, Eleazer to tell him you were running away with a man 300 years your senior

* So of course Eleazer came running -after he probably had a spat with Carmen about who would handle this situation better- to Forks on the first flight he found

* Only to burst through the door to see you and Emmett playing kingdom hearts in the living room

* “Oh, I see the rumors have been vastly exaggerated.”

* Cue -figuratively- sweating Carlisle who takes a sip from his mug

* Since he was already here you figured you would take a few days off from school and show him around

* “Is there anything in particular you might want to see?”

* Edward and Carlisle are looking pretty smug thinking that they’ve already shown you everything of note in the area.

* “I’ve always wanted to see the space needle in Seattle.”

* They both falter when they hear that. All the things they’ve shown you are things humans wouldn’t be able to see, hidden meadows, waterfalls, underwater caverns

* They never thought to show you human landmarks. Eleazer nods a growing smile on his face

* “Seattle has a lot of museums that I’ve wanted to visit as well”

* Carlisle let’s out a sigh of relief, none of his kids would be caught dead at a museum outside of a field trip

* To their dismay and Eleazer’s delight your eyes sparkle

* “Can we go to the pop culture museum and the arboretum too?”

* You don’t even pack, Eleazer tells you you can just buy whatever you need when you get there. You do take a duffel bag full of blood bags though

* And then you’re gone, you leave care instructions for your animals with Edward and you and Eleazer drive off towards Seattle in the rented Mercedes he got at the airport

* “Is it just me... or do they look happier with Eleazer than they are with us.” Edward’s only talking to himself, but Carlisle hears and the oncoming doting parent verbal and mental sputter makes him regret saying anything at all

* “it’s okay Carlisle, I’m sure they’re happy here with us too.”

* You guys stay at a pretty upscale hotel downtown, in the penthouse

* “Are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?” The receptionist asks, and Eleazar straight up starts laughing

* “This is my dad.” You say with a straight face and you can tell the receptionist wants to die

* “I-I’m so sorry, we usually get couples this time of year.” Right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Makes sense.

* Still there’s something super gross about people thinking you’re romantically linked to Eleazer

* The penthouse is very nice. There’s an infinity pool on your balcony, and three different bedrooms.

* The trip is really fun, you have a -pretend- meal at the revolving restraint at the needle, and spend the rest of the week museum hopping

* “She feels so familiar....” you mumble to yourself as you gaze at a portrait of a woman with long dark hair

* “That’s Carmen” Eleazer tells you

* “What?!?”

* “She was popular with artists even before she turned, it’s always been a hobby of hers to model” You’re just glad it’s not a nude portrait

* You take super cheesy pictures at the natural history museum, and even better pics at the pop culture museum

* On one of your last nights in the city Eleazer took you to a laundromat

* “I know we’ve been running out of clothes, but I’m sure the hotel has a laundry service”

* Eleazer just grins, talking to the attendant, who takes him to a hidden door.

* Well this isn’t sketchy at all

* Eleazer takes your hand in his as he leads you down a long narrow hallway. When you teach the end there’s a pretty nice bar and what appears to be a jazz club

* “It’s a speakeasy, I thought it might be a little fun for our last day”

* Being beautiful has its perks because the waiter doesn’t even card you, just brings you your dink

* “So...Garrett huh?” You groan, and Eleazer smiles

* You knew this was coming

* “Don’t worry, I’m not like Carlisle, if you like someone I like them too.”

* Well at least he isn’t acting like a total freak about the whole thing

* “I am surprised someone like Garrett is more your flavor though” you raise an eyebrow.

* “In comparison to who?” Eleazer gives you a funny look

* “Edward of course”

* You almost spit out your drink

* “Oh, is this one of those situations where the three of you are a couple together?”

* You start coughing and the waiter brings you a glass of water

* “We’re not together!”

* “Well of course you and Garrett aren’t together yet-“

* “Edward and I aren’t dating.”

* Eleazer just looks at you like you told him you’re pregnant

* “That can’t be right” he mumbles and you sigh

* “Why would you think we were dating?” The jazz singer belts out a high note and Eleazer patiently waits for her to be done so he can talk again

* “Well you went with them to Forks, and when you came to visit last year with him we all just figured it had happened naturally”

* Besides, Eleazer see’s the way he looks at you.

* Like you’re the epitome of your gender, like there’s never been anyone like you and there never will be again

* “We all? The entire coven thinks that?” Your fingers thread through your hair.

* What does Tanya think about that? She must be feeling pretty smug what with that talk she gave you all those years ago about how you would eventually date Edward

* Edward probably knows and just doesn’t even care, the criminal probably thinks it’s funny

* Eleazar watches you have a breakdown, taking a small sip of his brandy. It looks like you haven’t realized the way you look at Edward yet

* You look at him like you don’t have a single doubt. You trust him unconditionally, you know exactly who he is and where he will be.

* You look at him like he’s home

* “This is so embarrassing” you mumble and Eleazer smiles

* He guesses it’s not time yet for you to realize your feelings. Maybe it’s for the best, he’s not as bad as Carlisle, but the thought of giving you away at your wedding makes his heart ache.

* “The best cure for embarrassment is alcohol, drink up.” He grins when you clink your glass against his before gulping down the contents of your drink.

* Who knows, maybe in a few years someone completely different will show up and sweep you off your feet.

* You do talk about something really important with Eleazer though

* “Eleazer when do you think Aro will send for me?”

* Eleazer stops mid motion, his glass halted halfway between the table and his mouth

* “If I’m being honest, I don’t think he will for many years” Eleazer has an awkward expression on his face. “I think he’s afraid of you”

* You sputter

* The great and powerful Aro?! Alive for 1000’s of years. AFRAID OF YOU?!?

* “Oh don’t look at me like that, try and think about it from his perspective.”

* Your power is on par with Janes, but unlike her over the decade you’ve been a vampire your power has only gotten stronger. Your body’s natural despair and your desire to be human feed off of each other, compounding on each other to make your power that much more potent

* The only difference is that now you’ve learned to hide it, keeping your emotions in check so others aren’t hurt

* There isn’t a person alive that stands a chance against you at your full potential. You’re the strongest known vampire

* “Chelsea can’t bind you to coven with her loyalty like she does the others,” Eleazer takes a sip of his drink. “his only choice is to let you come back on your own volition, otherwise he risks a war.”

* A war he wouldn’t win, on your own it was dicey, all of them against just you could go either way

* But you weren’t alone anymore, now you have Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, Eleazer

* And Edward. You know without a second thought Edward would follow you into hell if you asked.

* “Saving any discovery of remarkable talent”

* A discovery like Bella

* You’re not 100% certain, but you’re pretty sure your powers don’t work on Bella, the same way Edward, Jane and Alec’s powers won’t work on her

* And if she can really spread her shield to others-

* You’re f*cked

* “but the chances of that are slim to none.” Eleazer reassures you

* You give him a reassuring smile

* “Salud” you raise you glass and he smiles

* “Salud” he grins as your glass clinks

* You weren’t expecting the week to go by so fast, or to be having as much fun as you did.

* You were pretty sad when the end of the week rolled around and Eleazer dropped you off home

* “He’ll be back before you know it” Edward says, his arm over your shoulders, giving your arm a comforting squeeze

* “Yeah I know, it still feels bad though”

* Edward doesn’t say anything, he just holds you a little closer

* You’re thankful to the Cullen’s for taking you in and giving you an opportunity you might not have had otherwise

* But they’re not your coven, they’re not really your family

* And so now you’re here, walking in a bright pink and red construction paper covered hallway next to Jessica who’s talking about Valentine’s Day

* Ah right, today’s Valentine’s Day

* “Do you think maybe...Mike bought me a carnation?” She asks twirling a strand of hair around her finger

* “I’m sure he did”

* You’re actually sure he bought one for Bella, but you’re hoping the courtesy extends to the whole friend group

* You bought all your friends valentines, and that includes the Cullen’s and everyone on the cheer team

* The money wasn’t the worst part, they were only a dollar each, the worst part was having to write notes for all of them, it wouldn’t have been so bad if the girl at the table wasn’t giving you a dirty look as you pretended to struggle through writing 30 cards

* “How much do you want to bet Bella gets the most flowers out of all of us?”

* You would bet the entire contents of your bank account, but you’re pretty sure Jess can’t match your bet

* “Well, she’s something new to look at, and boys are dumb”

* Jessica blows a strand of hair out of her face. You know she’s probably a bit bitter since she’s started to notice Mike is interested in Bella and not her

* But you kind of get it

* Bella’s cute, but she’s no Cindy Crawford. And to add...she’s really shy, not exactly someone with a charismatic personality.

* The attention she’s garnered will fade in due time, Edward had told you as much

* “It’s the same thing as when we moved to town, most of these kids have gone to school together since childhood, so when someone new gets here it’s all they can think about. They don’t really like her, they just like the idea of her. The illusion of a choice”

* It made you a little sad to be honest, even worse was that Bella didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. She seemed uncomfortable every time a boy flirted with her

* “I almost feel bad for her, I get the feeling she’s not really into any of these guys that are chasing her” Jessica says, so you’re not the only one that’s noticed

* You’re a little surprised that when the student comes by with carnations you get two entire bouquets worth

* And then they come back the next period and give you another bouquet

* “Oooo someone’s popular!” Angela teases and you shrug. Most of these are from Alice and Rosalie, they each bought you three each

* You got a whopping 12 from Conner which feels a bit surprising

* You knew he was going after it, but you didn’t think he would bother to actually put any effort into his attraction outside of flirting with you

* You’ve got one from everyone in your friend group, a handful from others on the cheer team, Emmett and Jasper both bought you one

* The only person who didn’t get you one was Edward

* You wonder if he got Bella one? The thought seems unlikely since they were basically at each others throat the last time they were together

* So imagine your surprise when you walk into the hall to see Bella and Edward talking

* You’re gone for a week and it’s like they’re suddenly insta-friends

* In fact, Bella’s actually blushing, a carnation twirling between her fingers

* A light red carnation

* So he did buy carnations after all, just not for you

* And Edward...his eyes are sparkling as he looks down at her. A lopsided grin curling onto his face

* Oh, there’s that smile

* He says something to her and she pouts, slapping him lightly with the carnation

* They’re getting along just fine without your matchmaking efforts

* So you were the problem

* You should be happy, relieved even-

* But all you can feel is the sharp twist in the bottom of your stomach

* “Hey (Y/N/N), I see you got my flowers”

* You turn around to see Conner who’s looking at your half zipped bag, 3 bouquets of flowers popping out of the top

* “Oh, yeah thanks they’re beautiful.”

* “I’m glad you got them, I noticed you weren’t at school and for a second I was worried you wouldn’t be here today too.”

* He really is cute. He’s got chocolate brown hair and clear blue eyes, a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He plays tennis or baseball or some other irrelevant sport.

* He’s popular with the girls too, he dated Lauren a few times, and Jessica admitted she had a crush on him freshman year.

* “Are you feeling better now?” He asks, he looks genuinely concerned and it takes you back a bit

* “Yeah, my dad came for a surprise visit so we went to Seattle”

* “Oh that’s cool, what did you guys do?”

* You’re a little surprised that Conner O’Malley, f*ckboy extraordinaire, is Trying to engage you in an honest conversation

* “We just did all the tourist stuff, space needle, museums, food, the usual.”

* Conner smiles at you, hands fidgeting together

* “That’s cool, did you um-did you read the note with the bouquet?

* You didn’t notice there was a note, you swing you backpack around, picking out his bright red bouquet with ease.

* You hadn’t paid attention to the note attached than reading the name on the front to see who they were from.

* “Will you be my valentine” you read the note out loud, feeling confused. What does that mean

* He fidgets in front of you, from here you can see his ears are bright red

* “So would you want to go out sometime?”

* He’s asking you out? On a proper date????

* “We could go watch a movie, or um I know you like to ride those bikes in Port A-“ you do like to ride those bikes in port a

* You watch the his human boy fumble over himself. There’s no future with this boy, one day he’ll grow old and want things you won’t be able to give him.

* “I have a ton of homework to catch up on-“

* “Oh, yeah no, I get that”

* But maybe... maybe it’s okay just to pretend and let yourself be entertained by the experience

* “Would you want to come with me to the library? I’m totally lost on Trig”

* You know it’s not the most romantic place, but that’s part of the reason you suggested it. You want to give him an out

* He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly.

* “I’ll meet you after school then, we can drive to the library together”

* You don’t bother telling Edward, you just look to the spot where he’s with Bella, he must have heard

* His eyes meet yours, his mouth pinches into a slight smile and he gives you a nod before turning back to Bella

* What so just because he’s got a new friend you’re invisible now?

* Stupid Edward. Not like you care, you just wanted him to know he’d have to ride home with the others

* Maybe his new best friend Bella can give him a ride home

* “So you’re going out with Conner tonight huh?” Mike asks when you take your seat in biology

* Edward doesn’t so much as spare you a glance

* “He’s just helping me catch up on school work.” You shrug, pulling out your biology homework

* “I bet he’ll help you catch up on-“

* “You’re going out with Conner?” Bella interrupts, you’re grateful for it but at the same time: those doe eyes and innocent face irritate you

* “He���s just helping me catch up on homework I missed”

* “Couldn’t Edward hell you do that?”

* You try to not look at Edward

* But what the f*ck?!?

* Last week the two of them couldn’t even sit in a car together for a short ten minute drive, and now all of a sudden she’s asking why you’re NOT spending time with Edward?

* It’s so... irritating

* You feel a tap on your arm, and turn to look at Edward

* “Control yourself”

* Oh great so the one time he decides to acknowledge your presence is to tell you to control your powers because he’s worried about his little human girlfriend getting the whiplash?!?

* Seriously, f*ck off Edward

* “Mr. Barnes I have to go to the nurse.”

* You don’t even wait to hear his answer, you just grab your bag and walk out

* You keep walking, practically fuming until you get to the parking lot

* Well you can’t leave, you already told Conner you’re going with him to the library after school

* Not to add it’s going to look real weird if you don’t go the nurses office eventually after storming off like that

* But you don’t want to go there yet

* Queue you discretely crouching under a window, lightly tapping the glass

* “Rosalie, Rosalie can you hear me?” You whisper

* Rosalie head turns to the window, her eyebrows threaded together, you poke your head just slightly above the ledge and give her a small smile and a wave

* Well at least it’s always interesting with you around

* “What are you doing?” Rosalie asks when she meets you under the school staircase

* You give her a nervous smile before collapsing onto the floor

* She gives you a knowing look before sitting beside you

* “So what did king Brood do now?”

* Queue the Edward rant

* “I leave for one week and all of a sudden he’s besties with some human, when just last week he told me not to get to close to her”

* “That’s Edward for you, king of the brood and hypocrisy.” Rosalie leans her head back against the wall

* “You know he didn’t even get me a carnation?”

* Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “That sounds like him, if it helps he didn’t buy me a carnation either, he just doesn’t think things like this are important”

* “He bought Bella one.”

* Rosalie sputters at that, so you retell her all about the flirting you had to watch

* “What color was the carnation?” Rosalie asks, and your eyebrows thread together

* Why is that important right now?

* “Um I don’t know, not quite pink, not quite red, something in between.”

* Rosalie’s expression smooths

* So that’s his game

* “Don’t worry about it too much as long as it’s not a deep red it doesn’t mean love”

* Now it’s your turn to sputter

* “W-what why would I be worried? Edward can do whatever he wants, even if it is with some human”

* Rosalie gives you a knowing look, and you avert your eyes

* If Rosalie were cruel she might ask why you’re sitting out here with her instead of in class, if you don’t care about what Edward does

* But Rosalie isn’t cruel, at least not to you

* She pats your shoulder, and you sigh

* “Come on let’s go to the nurse so you can pretend you have cramps or something” you nod

* “Besides don’t you have a date with the hottest human boy at our school?” You groan and a teasing smile curls onto her lips

* “Not you too.”

* The date is over hyped for sure, it’s mostly you and Conner sitting at the end of a small table asking each other questions about the trig homework

* “So...are you supposed to use the radical formula for this one?”

* “I think so..do you remember the formula?” Conner scratches his head

* “Um I remember there was a story about a mixed up guy going to a party that’s supposed to help”

* Basically it’s more like you’re helping Conner with home work than him helping you Totally underwhelming

* “Sorry, I bet there are better ways to spend your Valentine’s Day” Conner scoffs

* “Are you kidding? I’m spending it with the hottest person at Forks HS, as far as I’m concerned this is a win” he grins and you smile back

* Well, it wasn’t completely a waste

* You roll around back home around 11:30, everyone’s gone, on with their own Valentine’s Day plans.

* You’re not surprised to see Edward’s not in his room either He’s probably out watching Bella or doing god knows what

* You know this is the way it supposed to be, it’s the best thing for you too, you know even with Bella in the mix Edward would never betray you

* Once she’s on your side you don’t have to worry about the Volturi. But still, there a twist in your stomach You don’t like this new Edward, even if it is who he really is.

* You want your Edward back

* You sigh as you walk down the hall and into your room Stopping in the doorway when you flick on the lights

* There on your desk is a bouquet of roses

* You have half a mind to think they’re from Eleazer or Garrett or something

* So imagine when you pull off the card to see Edward’s name attached

* “Glad to have you home, happy Valentine’s Day” - Edward

* You toy with the card, a small smile curling onto your lips

* Maybe he’s still your Edward

* Your Edward just more anti-social

Tags:  @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10​

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanons #waking up in twilight #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Conner twilight imagine #Conner x reader #Edward Cullen x bella swan #Volturi imagine #superhero—imagines

[kiss-inthekitchen]

of the jealous kind

summary: you and Harry are out at the local farmer’s market when a girl starts flirting with you and Harry gets jealous. only thing is, you don’t exactly realize she’s flirting with you. classic wlw vibes, am i right ladies? (please say yes)

my submission for @bopbopstyles and @harrysclementines bi-ficathon!

a/n: fun times with Harry calling you “his girl” and being just a bit pathetically jealous (his words!) also i might continue this...in a smut type of fashion... if y’all are interested

word count: 2.2k 

--

“Oh, let’s stop over there! I want to get one of those chocolate chip custard things,” you exclaimed, spotting your favorite bakery stand at the farmer’s market and dragging Harry along by your joined hands. 

“A’right, love, m’comin,” he laughed, trying to keep in step with your suddenly quickened pace. 

It was a Sunday morning, cloudy but not too cold, and you and Harry were visiting your favorite farmer’s market in town. You tried to come here at least twice a month if your schedules allowed it. Today, it just so happened, you both had the entire day free to spend with each other. 

Harry knew you had to look at everything the bakery had to offer before you inevitably bought the same items as usual (a good, crusty country loaf and the same danish you never remembered the name of). There was a produce stand across the way that immediately caught Harry’s eye, a “buy 2 get 1 free” sign atop a display of various berries calling out to him. You noticed his distraction, the two of you speaking at the same time.

“M’gonna-” 

“Go on, then.”

“Know me so well, don’t you?” He gave you a soft smile and pressed a kiss to your temple before heading off in pursuit of his beloved fruit. 

You took the last few steps over to the booth’s main table, which held a majority of the baked goods as well as this week’s free sample: a garlic rosemary bread, cut into bite size pieces. You picked one up, on instinct taking a sidelong glance at the basket of your favorite pastries by the register, when the woman behind the counter finished ringing up a customer and turned to you.   

“Can I help you with anything, hon?”

“Oh, um, I’m just looking,” you answered, looking up at her. She must’ve been new, you thought, not recognizing her from your previous visits. She had dark hair, twisted up into a bun at the back of her head, an oversized t-shirt with a phoenix decal on it. Her name tag informed you that her name was Allie. 

“Alright, well, I will say that’s the best flavor we’ve got,” she gestures to the small wedge still held between your fingers. 

“Really? That’s quite a bold statement,” you smile back at her, appreciating her friendliness.  

“You’re gonna want to trust me on this one,” she said, nodding at you to go ahead. 

You took a bite, blushing a bit at the knowledge you were being watched and that she was awaiting your response. “Mhm,” you agreed, around a mouthful of bread. “Okay, you’re right, that’s better.” 

“Thought so. I have been told I’ve got very good taste.” 

“Well, I’m not surprised.” 

She made eye contact with you, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “So, will you be taking a loaf of the garlic rosemary then?” she asked. 

“Yes, please.” Why not try something new, you thought. And she was right, it was delicious. You’re sure Harry would like it too, and you could just imagine the playful ribbing he was going to give you when he noticed you’d deviated from your usual order. “Oh, could I also get that-” 

“The chocolate chip danish? I saw you eyeing it earlier,” she said, picking one up with a gloved hand and placing it in a small paper bag. “That one’s on the house.” 

“Oh, you’re so sweet! Thank you.” Allie was really on top of it with the customer service. 

“Anytime,” she said, “Anything else I can get you?” 

“No, that’s all for me! Thanks again.”

She rang up your order, handing you the bag before speaking. “You know, we also come out to the beachside farmer’s market on Wednesday’s, if you’re ever in the area. I’ll write it down for you,” she said, picking up a business card from a stack on the table and turning it over to write on the back. 

“Sounds great,” you replied, mostly to be polite. You probably wouldn’t make it out, Wednesdays being a busy day for you with classes. 

Just as she was handing it back to you, Harry appeared behind you, fruit in tow. 

“Thank you so much, have a good one!” you said cheerily, dropping the card into the bag with your goods. You’d look at it when you got home.

She waved back. “See you soon, hopefully.”

You smiled as you turned around to see Harry already standing there, startling a bit at his unexpected presence. He raised his eyebrows a bit, but didn’t say anything as he put his free arm around your shoulders. The two of you headed back to the main walkway, and he waited until your new friend was out of earshot before he spoke. 

“So, yeh just gonna let someone flirt with my girl like that?” 

“What?” That was not what you were expecting. “She wasn’t flirting with me, Harry.” 

“Oh, please, love. Saw the way she was lookin’ at you. Poor girl. I’m sure you led her on.” 

“Excuse me, I did no such thing,” you scoffed. “And she wasn’t even flirting with me, so I couldn’t have.” 

He breezed right past your denial, having already made up his mind. You weren’t going to be able to convince him otherwise, you knew that by now. “Told ya before love, you come off very flirtatious. Almost feel bad for her.” He was smirking down at you, the bastard. “Almost.” 

“Being a pest,” you grumbled, shoving against his shoulder with yours to throw him off balance. 

He stumbled a bit, but recovered quickly. “Oi! ‘S not very nice, is it?” 

You giggled in response, loving when he used that playful tone. He tried to keep a serious face on while looking back at you but failed almost immediately, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes that you forgot what you’d both been talking about. 

“Anyway,” you sang, reaching out for his free hand and threading your fingers through his. “What did you buy?” 

His face lights up at the memory of his purchase. “Got strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries, plus some local clover honey.” 

“Such a sweet tooth, hm?” 

“S’pose I do,” he said with a slight smirk. “Ready to go home and eat, then?” 

“We’ve barely been here half an hour, H. Trying to get me home already?”

“Look too good today, love. Worried if we stick around I’ll have to beat the other vendors off with a stick.” 

“I thought we were done with this conversation,” you rolled your eyes at him playfully, but allowed him to steer you back toward the car park. You were getting kind of hungry anyway. 

--

You’re sat on your kitchen island at home, Harry placing the bags on the counter next to you. 

“Have a nice time, love?” He asks, moving over to you and situating his body between your knees at the edge of the counter. 

You drape your arms around his neck, thumb coming up to his cheek to rub back and forth as he leans into your touch. “Always have a good time when I’m with you,” you breathe. 

“That’s m’girl,” he speaks in a husky tone, before leaning in to press his lips to yours, slow and lazy at first. That is, until he lifts his hands to your thighs, sliding them around to your back and suddenly tugging you closer to the edge of the island, body flush with his. You gasp into his mouth at the action, and you can feel rather than see his resounding smirk. 

“Harry,” you pull back, attempting to admonish him but no one would know from the way your voice shakes. 

“Sorry, love. Know what they say, kitchen’s the most romantic room in the house.” 

“I don’t know anyone who says that.” 

“Y’do now,” he grins lopsidedly at you, and it’s all you can do to remember that the two of you still need to eat. 

You grin back at him. “You’re a dork, you know that?” 

“But you love me,” he responds, and you can’t argue with that. “A’right, I’ll take everything out and we can have a picnic in the backyard, how’s that sound?” 

Your smile nearly knocks him off his feet. “I’ll go get the picnic blanket!” 

He removes himself from between your legs and you slide off the counter and head towards the linen closet in the hallway. When you return, Harry’s taken out the loaf of bread and the danish, and is holding the business card in between two fingers. 

“What’s this, then?” He asks, holding up the bakery’s business card, logo facing you. 

“It’s just their card, the cashier told me they come out to another farmer’s market during the week and she was gonna write it down for me.” 

“Oh, she wrote it down, love.” In a second, he elegantly flips the card over in his fingers to show you the back. “But that’s not all she wrote.” Underneath the name of the other market is her name and, unmistakably, a phone number. 

“No!” you gasp, not believing he was right and you’d fucking missed it. 

“And you bought a new flavor bread?”

“Well, I-  Allie said it was the best one…” you trail off, trying to remember the details of your earlier interaction. Maybe Harry was right, you guess you did seem a bit flirtatious.

“Oh, Allie said, did she? That’s all it takes?” He’s kind of joking, kind of not, when it finally sinks in for you that you’ve, yet again, completely failed to notice when another woman was trying to flirt with you. 

“Oh, god damn it!” you exclaim, completely in your own head and you didn’t even hear what Harry had said to you. “I do this every time!” 

What’s left of Harry’s joking demeanor drops. “Every time? How often does this happen?!” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice again.” 

Your friends were gonna have a field day with this one. Three out of the four of you identified as bi or pan, though when you’d all become friends back in high school only one of you had actually been out. Now, you all joked that you had one “token straight” in the friend group. 

“Y/N?!”

“I know, H, can you give me just a moment, I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m apparently a raging stereotype,” you reply, laughing at yourself a bit for being so predictable. 

“Oh, of course, don't mind me. I’ll just be here. Waiting. Very patiently.” It’s a wonder he doesn’t start tapping his foot, clearly the farthest thing from patient right now. 

You snap back to attention, realizing that if you don’t stop Harry he’s just going to keep spiraling. “You do know I’m dating you, right?”

“Do I?” 

“Oh, come on. You’re being such a baby about this!” 

“Oi! I am not!” He huffs, and you can just picture him as an indignant toddler, standing with his arms folded and a deep frown set on his face. 

You hold back a laugh at the image you’ve conjured, closing the distance between the two of you. “Baby, I love you,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.“You know I do.” His jaw. “Why don’t we just throw that out, hm?” You kiss his lips this time, reaching for the card and plucking it from his fingers before tossing it away from you.  

“I guess,” he grumbles as you pull away, but you can tell he’s not quite over it. 

You rest your chin against his chest, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. “You don’t believe me, gorgeous? Need me to prove it to you?” 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, and you know that you’ve brought him back from his little jealousy spiral at the mere suggestion, so you decide to make him wait for it. Just a little while.  

“More than happy to,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over the back of his hand. “Only thing is, you’re gonna have to have this picnic with me first,” you reach behind him for the blanket, “and you have to stop pouting.” You step around him, laughing as you run toward the glass door that leads to the yard.

“M’not pouting,” he lies to the empty kitchen as he grabs the rest of the food and some utensils before following you outside. 

His mood is definitely lifted, though, when he comes outside to find you seated on the blanket already, grinning widely at him and holding your arms out for him to crawl into. 

Maybe he had been just a tad bit dramatic. 

--

About half the bread is gone now, a bowl of honeyed berries and a plate full of crumbs resting on the cloth-covered grass next to you. Harry’s shifted so he’s laying down with his head resting on your soft thighs, with you carding your fingers through his short curls, just enjoying each other’s company. 

“Wait a minute,” you break the comfortable silence, a thought suddenly popping into your mind. “Other people flirt with you all the time! Sometimes right in front of me!” 

“And?” he muses, reluctantly sitting up in order to face you. 

“And! I never get jealous like that!” 

“I know. Rather insulting, if you ask me. You can get possessive, love. I certainly won’t mind it.”

#hsbificathon #i finally got it done and i am very happy to be Participating #thank u #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #to be so lonely #my fics

[scariusaquarius]

just a dare.

George ‘Joji’ Miller x Female! Reader

---

Synopsis: He was never one to back down from a dare, but this was a dare that might give George ‘Joji’ Miller more than what he bargained for.

---

A/n: So this is probably really different than what you guys are used to, but I wrote this because A: I fucking love Joji and B: i wanted to write this for a friend. The style that I wrote this in is kinda kinda different than what I usually do, but I was freeballing this one ngl so if it sucks: that is 100% why. I don’t know how Joji is as a person, so if this doesn’t seem like something he would do then lol we die like idiots on this tumblr.

---

Genre: Romance, Slight Angst Rated: Everyone Warning: None

---

Author: ScariusAquarius

---

He knew it was wrong to let it go on for this long, but there was a part of him that longed for it to never stop.

George ‘Joji’ Miller was a man of many things. He was a musician, a past Youtuber, a performer of many arts, and a friend. He was a son, a student, and sometimes during typical shenanigans with his friends, a character named Filthy Frank.

However, one thing that Joji didn’t like to consider himself was a liar.

Joji typically didn’t like to lie about things, even if they were small white lies. Sure, he’d lie to get out of petty trouble, but to lie to people he didn’t even know? Joji didn’t consider himself that much of an asshole (even though he did enjoy harassing them at times, especially when he still ran his Filthy Frank channel). However, if there was at least one thing Joji could admit about himself, it was that he never backed out of a dare or challenge, no matter how fucked up it might be (unless it was incredibly illegal, of course.)

Even if it meant fake dating someone and breaking their heart after a certain amount of time.

During a night of drunken shenanigans with his friends Max and Ian, they had engaged in a particular drunk game of Dare or Drink. It was a game of truth or dare, but with a twist, and it was personally a favorite of Joji’s, even if he did end up drunker than a dog before the night was even over. However, during this game, it had given Joji more than what he had bargained for.

“Hey, so you know that one girl that helps with the crew during shows? That (Y/n) (L/n) chick? I dare you to ask her out and date her for a couple months.”

That was how it started. A stupid and meaningless dare that was supposed to have ended months ago had Joji had the balls to break your heart. However, during his time in ‘dating’ you, he had found more out about you that he had never known about you before; more that made Joji rethink his choice of breaking you and up with you.

You were one of the crew members that had been hired to help him during his shows and music career, but you did so much more than just help set up the stage and handle the light sequences. You were almost like an assistant manager for his agent, helping with scheduling and setting up interviews and meets, designing merch and handing off the designs to his agent, and other incredibly important things that Joji hadn’t even thought about before meeting you.

Even though Joji knew you, he hadn’t really bothered to ever actually befriend you and get to know the real you. You were a fleeting image to him; always only glimpses as you hustled about and did your job. It was almost rare that Joji ever actually got to speak one-on-one to you, and that was only ever if his agent was sick and asked you to take over for the day.

From what Joji could see, you were a truly decent person with a unique perspective on things.

So, when Max had dared him to ask you out, Joji had thought it would be pretty fast and easy to do. He didn’t truly know you, so why not? As he watched you stare up at the sky, smiling softly as the snow fell and the Tokyo lights reflected off of your skin, Joji found it hard to look away; to even fathom the thought of breaking your heart.

There was a part of him that felt like an asshole for taking on the dare. Truly, Joji shouldn’t have taken it on…but there was a part of him that was almost glad that he did. To most people, you were probably considered mediocre, maybe even uninteresting…but to Joji, you were all he ever thought about. You invaded his mind at every waking moment; even invading his dreams when he would actually get some good sleep.

All he ever thought about was you and how much he didn’t want to break that soft light that burned within your heart. You were so soft; so…refreshing. Joji was addicted to you and your optimistic, even loving, outlook on life. Joji was sure that he had never met anybody who was so in love with living as you were. Joji could still remember the way you had looked at him when he had asked you out after a show one day when he finally got a real chance to.

He had taken a week to ask you because both you and him were so busy. During that week, Joji had thought about all the ways that the situation could go wrong. You could refuse, and Joji wouldn’t have to do the dare, Perhaps you already had a partner and could let him down…or maybe you just didn’t want to see anybody? If he was honest about it, it was what Joji had hoped for when he had blurted out the question when he stumbled off of stage, looking so sweaty and flushed from his time in the show.

However, instead of refusing him, you had given him a baffled look before you smiled so fondly at him; as if he had just professed his love to you or something…or told you that you looked beautiful, which you definitely had that night.

It was the moment that Joji knew he was fucked. He had taken you out the week after for bubble tea, showing you his favorite flavors while actually getting to know you. After about two months, Joji had figured that it was time to end the relationship.

However, when Joji had prepared himself and walked up to your apartment to break things off, he found his steps growing slower and slower until he was frozen in front of your door. His body wouldn’t move, and Joji cursed himself as he shuffled his feet and stalled. It shouldn’t have been so hard, but Joji never did knock on your door.

Instead, he had listened to you softly sing to one of his songs, sounding so pretty and soft as you sang alongside him. He had listened until the end of the song before turning and walking away from the door, sending you a sweet goodnight text. He almost hated how the heart emojis on your text back made his heart flutter.

After that, Joji began to notice more of the little things that you did for him that no other significant other had ever done for him before. In the morning, you would always have breakfast ready for him, his favorite breakfast foods usually, sometimes something different to spice things up and give variety.

You would pay so much attention to what he would say to you that if he expressed interest in an item or something that he liked, you would buy it for him as soon as you could, smiling so softly as you would shyly explain to him that you remembered he wanted that thing or stared at it a little too long.

You would remember some of the littlest things about him that he would tell you that most others would have forgotten, you would ask him about his day, give him space when he wouldn’t even ask for it, and pay attention to his physical cues, not just the verbal.

It almost baffled Joji how much you enjoyed doing things for him while he didn’t invest much into you. In the beginning, Joji hadn’t even planned to do much for you because in the beginning, you were temporary. You had been just the result of a drunken dare that Joji was too proud to refuse…until it wasn’t; until you became much more than that.

During an innocent night of him sleeping over with you after marathoning Disney movies, your alarm clock had gone off for you to do some late night work for the big boss. Joji, despite having been woken up by the alarm, hadn’t moved nor opened his eyes while you shuffled off the bed quietly to get yourself ready.

And then you had leaned over him, kissing his forehead and whispering how he was going to change the world, and Joji had never felt so conflicted in his life. It had honestly given him nightmares.

It was after the third month, after that one night, that Joji began to make more of an effort. He took you out to places that he remembered you mentioning, bought you small gifts, and made sure to listen more attentively rather than passively when you would speak with him about things that didn’t pertain to work or himself.

Joji took you more seriously, and though Joji still felt like shit about the fact he hadn’t begun to date you because he liked you, there was a part of him that began to feel thankful for such a stupid dare; a part of him that began to grow attached to you.

So, when you smiled over at him, the Tokyo lights lighting up your face in a rainbow of pretty fluorescents and snow falling on your skin, Joji couldn’t stop himself from smiling back at you. His heart swelled, loving just how in love with the world you looked. How could he even break your heart? How could he snuff out such a soft and loving light like yours?

“What’s on your mind, Joj?”

Joji swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous, and he wondered if he should tell you. Should he reveal it? Should he say it? Was it too late to? Was it considered too early?

“I love you.”

Just like when he had jokingly asked you out, your eyes widened in surprise before that beautiful smile graced your lips. Your warm hand came up to his cheek, cupping his flushed and cold skin before you replied back gently.

“I love you too, J.”

And just like that, Joji knew that there was no turning back, and if the man was honest, he was sure that he didn’t want to.

[END]

Taglist: @xshadyladyx​

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#George Miller #Joji Miller #Joji #Reader #Joji x Reader #George Miller x Reader #Joji Miller x Reader #Joji Imagine #Joji Miller Imagine #George Miller Imagine

[elisaphoenix13]

Once Upon A Summer (Ch.7)

Tony didn't really remember going up to Peter's room, but that was where he found himself. Sitting in the darkened room as the boy napped and watched him sleep. He always treated Peter like his own kid, but now it was actually, biologically true. Now all he could think about were the what ifs. And did May know? She didn't give any indication that she did, and now Tony was going through the fifteen years of his son's life in the span of a few days because of a wonky spell.

He supposed it was fate's way of giving him another chance to be in his son's life from infancy. And Peter had been a complete angel so far. Tony was actually a little jealous that he wasn't there when he was born...but he could understand why he might not have been told. He was a notorious playboy back then.

But Tony knew now and he was even more determined to give Peter everything once his mind wrapped around the fact that the boy was really his. It still didn't feel real.

Everytime Peter seemed to fall asleep, he grew just a little bit more as the magic wore off, and now he was about eight years old if Tony had to guess. In fact, he looked surprisingly familiar. Like he had seen Peter like this before. It was an itch he couldn't quite scratch, but it was easily pushed to the back of his mind when Peter finally stirred. Sleepy brown eyes blink open and the boy yawns before pushing his blankets away and sitting up.

"Hey Underoos. How was your nap?" Tony asks after clearing his throat.

"Good. I'm hungry." Peter mumbles as he rubs his eyes.

"It's not quite dinner time yet. How about a snack to tide you over for now?"

"Cheese and crackers?" Peter asks hopefully.

Tony laughs. "Sure. I think we can do that. If not, I'll send Mom to the store."

"I heard that!" Stephen calls from downstairs.

"He knows everything." Tony stage whispers, making Peter laugh.

Peter gets out of bed and Tony immediately stops him and looks down at his...diaper. It didn't grow with him this time and looked more than snug on the boy. Uncomfortable to say the least.

"Hang on kiddo. Let's get you out of that." Tony says, leading Peter to the master bedroom. "Friday, order something for Pete to wear. One outfit should be fine since he'll grow out of it tonight." He requests as he looks through his dresser.

"Yes Boss."

"Does he have his regular clothes here?" Stephen asks from the doorway and Tony looks over.

"Hmm...I think there's a few things I bought for him." Tony answers. "He still needs underwear that fits him though doesn't he?"

"Just stick him in a pair of those and a t-shirt." The sorcerer shrugs.

"T-shirt for now until the Underoos come." Tony snickers and pulls out one of his band shirts and helps Peter into it.

It was big and slipped over his shoulder, but it covered him more than adequately and Peter must have agreed since he peeled out of the room shouting about cheese and crackers. Stephen chuckled as he watched the boy go and his smile dropped a little when he looked back at Tony. The older man must have had a look on his face if the sorcerer was concerned.

"You alright?" Stephen asks softly.

"As much as I can be." Tony sighs. "I get this bomb dropped on me and while part of me is ecstatic, another is terrified."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"...when he's back to normal. I just hope he's not disappointed or thinks I abandoned him." Tony heaves another sigh and rubs his eyes.

"I've only seen the two of you interact for a few days, but I think it's safe to say that he adores you." Stephen assures. "And I'm not talking about idolization. He sees you as a father figure. Even proved it by calling you his father."

"He called Mom-" Tony smirks and Stephen rolls his eyes.

"We're not talking about me."

"Maybe we should." Tony says abruptly.

Stephen looks at him in confusion and Tony steps closer. This was a long time coming right? This talk? Or maybe he was mistaken and these feelings he formed were one sided? He wasn't one to question himself though. Tony didn't test the waters...he just jumped right in. So why was it different this time? Was this what it was like to be serious about someone? He only knew Stephen for a few days but he wanted to know more. He wanted to know if the sorcerer slept on his side, or if he snored (something told him there was no chance of that), or if he was the type to watch medical shows just to nitpick at the inaccuracies.

Tony would bet half his company that he was.

"What's there to talk about?" Stephen asks carefully.

"First of all, you stuck around. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I expected you to only check in once a day...but here you are. Vacationing with us."

"As you pointed out, it was because I'm the one versed in magic and-"

"You know what I meant." Tony interrupts and steps a little closer. "Point two...Peter called you Mom and you didn't nip it in the bud." Stephen opens his mouth but Tony continues. "He was old enough to understand if you didn't want him to call you that. So why?"

Stephen swallows and Tony watches as the younger man's throat bobs with the motion. "I…"

"Point three…" Tony says, leaning closer. "You didn't send me to some weird dimension for doing this--" Tony pinches Stephen's ass and the sorcerer jumps. "--earlier. So either you didn't have the energy to care or...the curiosity isn't one sided."

Though it was brief, Tony saw Stephen's eyes widen for a split second before his face fell into neutrality again. Bingo. Tony's hopes flew to the heavens because Stephen was interested too. But he knew this wasn't just anyone else. He couldn't buy dinner and then expect to fall into bed with Stephen. Besides, he'd already done that the past few days. No, Tony wanted to properly woo the sorcerer. Make sure Stephen didn't feel like another one of his conquests... because he wasn't.

Tony could see a long future with him.

"Are you gonna kiss?"

Both Tony and Stephen startle and look down to find Peter standing by them and staring curiously up at them. When Tony saw how close he and Stephen ended up, he couldn't blame Peter for asking because he was so close to the younger man that if he hiccuped, he would have found himself lip-locked with the sorcerer. Tony was actually a little exasperated with Peter's ill timing but he did promise a snack for him. Who knew how long he and Stephen had been standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"How about we get you some crackers?" Tony deflects and leads Peter back down to the kitchen.

"And cheese!" The boy declares, successfully distracted from his earlier question.

Tony looked over his shoulder at Stephen, who was descending the stairs behind them, and winked. The blush that adorned the younger man's cheeks was proof enough that his earlier assumption was correct and he really wanted to get back to that subject once Peter was properly occupied. Maybe a movie? No, it would probably have to be when the boy went to bed for the night. Tony still wanted to get every little bit of Peter's "childhood" while he could.

He decided to even make the lasagna he had mentioned earlier for dinner. While he got to work, Stephen helped Peter clean his shells and find a home for them. Even helped him get some underwear on when they arrived. Peter was given free reign of the tv until dinner was ready, which Tony was making the quick way, and Stephen sat on the couch to read. Tony would make the pasta from scratch another time, when he had time to prepare, but dried pasta would do for now. He, of course, took advantage of the sauce by asking Stephen to try it, and beamed when the sorcerer obliged him and was even impressed with the flavor.

When dinner was finally done, they all sat at the table with the lasagna and some garlic bread and Tony nearly laughed when Peter nearly inhaled a piece bigger than the flat of the spatula. The boy was suddenly growing quickly and Tony had to wonder if his mutant appetite was coming back. He would have to keep a closer eye on Peter.

"Enjoy dinner?" Tony asks Peter when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stephen had to grab a napkin to wipe his hands and face the right way, and made Peter grimace.

"It was yummy!"

"I'll make it even better next time." Tony promises as he gets up with his plate.

"I'd like to try it when you make the pasta yourself." Stephen admits. "But it was good."

"A dinner date? I accept." Tony smirks when Stephen blushes again and gets up with his plate as well as Peter's.

"Peter, go watch tv before it's time for a bath." Stephen says. "You need to get washed up before bed since we went to the beach."

"Okay!" Peter gets down from his chair and races back into the living room to watch a Disney movie.

Tony and Stephen cleaned up in the meantime, and Tony refrained from over flirting with Stephen. He'd already made the man blush at least twice in one day, but Tony would probably start up again once Peter was in bed. When everything was cleaned up, Tony herded the little boy up the stairs after his movie was over and ran a bubble bath for him which he helped Peter into once Tony helped him undress. To think just a few days ago, he would have been wildly uncomfortable with this situation. But now it didn't bother him. Maybe it was because Peter was actually his kid, or maybe it was because Tony had changed his diapers for the past week...or maybe it was both? Parenting wasn't easy by any means, but once he got into the groove of it, things didn't bother him as much.

"You alright by yourself while I go find you something to sleep in Underoos?" Tony asks after helping Peter into the tub.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright. Wash up." Tony leaves the bathroom to find another shirt and clean pair of underwear for Peter, content with the fact that Friday could tell him if anything happened in the couple of minutes he was gone.

Which was known to happen with kids. It admittedly made Tony nervous when he came across the potential accidents babies and kids could have while unsupervised. He had read that a baby could drown in a teaspoon of water and while he wasn't sure if that was accurate, he sure as hell didn't want to find out. He was glad for his AI for an entirely different reason.

"Alright Pete. Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin?" Tony asks when he walks back to the bathroom with the two band t-shirts.

Peter looks over and tilts his head in thought. "Sabbath." He finally says.

"Good choice."

Tony helped him wash his hair, and Peter helped unplug the tub while Tony grabbed a towel to wrap him up in. The drying process was obnoxious and made the little boy giggle, and even Tony laughed when he pulled the towel away to find the mop of brown hair askew.

"Can I have a bedtime story?" Peter asks as Tony helps him get dressed.

"A bedtime story? What kind?"

Peter shrugs. "Dunno."

"Hmm…" Tony takes Peter to his room and helps him into bed. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Peter who went to bed. The end."

"That's a terrible story." Peter complains and Tony chuckles.

"How about the three little pigs? I think I can manage that." Tony offers and Peter nods and squirms under the blankets to get comfortable.

Peter was using the other guest bedroom since neither Tony nor Stephen expected him to grow back to normal like this. In all honesty, Tony thought he would just spring back to his teenage self, but it ended up being gradual. He didn't see the point of kicking Stephen out of Peter's actual room all of a sudden. They would deal with that tomorrow. At least an adult was still nearby in case Peter needed one of them.

Tony told him the fairytale of the three little pigs with his own spin since, in his own opinion, the original story was a yawn fest. By the time it was done, Peter was half asleep with his eyes almost closed and part of his face pressed into his pillow. Tony leaned forward to tuck him in and then kissed his forehead before moving away and standing. He quietly made his way to the door and turned off the light after making sure to keep a night light on, and as he started to slip out of the bedroom, he heard Peter talk.

"Love you Daddy."

Tony stops and looks back into the darkened room and smiles genuinely.

"Love you too Pete. Good night."

#supremefamily #stephen strange #ironstrange #tony stark #baby peter parker #peter parker

[lovelyirony]

the much anticipated second part for the amnesia-related fic. 

A wedding ring. 

This doesn’t mean that he and Tony are married except that he hasn’t seen Tony with a wedding ring and he hasn’t mentioned a wife and he doesn’t sound like he has a wife and if Rhodey-if Jim had a wife, then wouldn’t he know about her? Wouldn’t they have met by now? He may not know Tony yet, but he doesn’t think that he would be that cruel. 

“Colonel Rhodes-” 

“Friday, don’t,” Jim says, swatting at the air. “What-why did you hide that from me?” 

“Sir believed it would be best,” Friday answers, tone almost quieter. “He...wasn’t sure that you would understand.” 

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would I marry him of all people? He’s not exactly my type.” 

“Since I am a learning program, I cannot say for sure. Humans do a lot of illogical things.” 

He’s trying to wrap his head around it and avoid Tony at the same time. 

Friday won’t let him see any wedding pictures, not until he remembers more. 

- 

Even though he’s been (mostly) successful at avoiding Tony for about a week and a half, the man is still so nice. 

He’s still operating under the assumption that Jim has no idea that they’re married, and he does stuff like leave out a cup of coffee and offer breakfast up or ask if he wants pizza for dinner.

Jim reads too much into it. 

And he doesn’t know why, because it’s not like anything has really changed, except for the fact that Tony won’t call him Rhodey. 

Jim gave him permission to, saw how much it killed him with every correction and every reminder. Told him “you can call me Rhodey, if you want.” 

And he doesn’t. 

Tony never does. 

He still almost says it, but Jim is quicker on the tongue, and he doesn’t make a move to try to push any memories at all. 

(Even though he remembers how happy Tony was to hear that memory about grocery shopping and Dum-E’s code source.) 

He does want to remember. He wants to remember why he apparently married Tony and was genuine about it, why Pepper and him are best friends and never were anything more, why he’s...why he’s so different from what he wanted. 

-

Tony knows that Jim’s acting differently. He’s not sure why. He’s not sure he wants to know why, because that might complicate everything. 

And he doesn’t want another thing to be wrong. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him except for the one damn person that probably should be, but Rhodey’s never been good at following rules. (But he’s good at fooling people.) 

Pepper talks to Tony a lot. Asks him how he’s doing, if there’s anything she can do. 

Repair someone’s memory is a little bit outside of her area of expertise. 

“It’ll be okay,” she says, putting her tiny hand over his. “Things will work out.” 

They both know that in Tony’s life, luck has never been quite what it seems. Or existent at all, at times. 

-

Ironically, it’s their anniversary of the wedding when Jim remembers something else. It actually comes in the form of looking in the fridge and not finding his apples. 

“Quit leaving honey-crisp off of the list just because you don’t like them you asshole,” he calls to Tony.��

Tony almost yelps. 

“Out of everything in your life and that’s what you remember? Your stupidly sweet apples?” 

“Are you gonna get them?” 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Tony asks, “just so that you can get your apples and maybe get out of the house for once.” 

“Hmph. Fine,” Jim answers. “Where’s my coat?” 

“Uh...” Tony trails off, trying to find the words. “Third peg on the...right, I think?” 

“You’ve known me for years, and you don’t know where my coat is?” 

Rhodey is always the one to hang up his coat, and then put his arms out for Tony’s. 

“To be fair, I am important and fancy and a big deal,” Tony scoffs. “Come on, go get your coat and then I’m going to show you what horrible things you buy from the store.” 

“It’s not that bad. And what, you don’t like good apples?” 

“As sour as can be, sourpatch. As sour as can be.” 

-

Grocery shopping with Tony is...interesting. He didn’t think it would take so long. 

“This is why you don’t usually come,” Tony teases him. “I take so long and you end up sitting in the car and cursing at Pepper or Happy about how much time I spend dedicated to snack-judging.” 

“And I put up with that?” 

“You do,” Tony says, grabbing the cart. “Because you love me and you deal with a lot worse from me.” 

“Like what?” 

“Best not to talk about it,” Tony says. “We’re in public after all, honey.” 

“Ugh, boo,” Rhodey teases. “Give me the list. I bet I can speed-run this.” 

“How? Technically, you don’t think you’ve ever been to this store before!” Tony exclaims with a gigantic, shit-eating grin. 

“Way to rub it in you bastard,” he says with a laugh. “Now come on, I wanna see what kind of salad you think we’re gonna get.” 

“Not you thinking you’re going to be eating junk food,” Tony sighs. 

“I lost my memory!” 

“That would’ve worked, like, two weeks ago. Now I know better.” 

Grocery shopping is...fun. They make fun of foods and different products, and Tony shows him which things he might like. 

“I like...I like fruit salad?” 

“Yes, yes you do Rhodey-dear,” Tony says. “Your favorite thing in the world for fruit.” 

“Seems suspicious.” 

“You’ll have to try it again, then.” 

Rhodey watches him as they’re shopping. He’s easy to be around, honestly. He has that sort of energy that makes you feel like he’s just happy to be in that moment. 

Tony also has very questionable taste in everything. 

“Quinoa?” 

“What? You’ve eaten it before! It’s not your least favorite thing that I’ve cooked?” 

“How is it not? Is it because I’m old?” 

“No, not because you’re old,” Tony scowls. “When you’d come back from the service, you’d eat literally anything I put in front of you. I once gave you a block of cheese and you just sat there. Eating it.” 

“There’s no way I did that.” 

“You did! Ask Pepper, she has a picture of it!” 

He goes back to quiet after that, remembering the picture. 

-

Jim isn’t even sure he wants to bring it up. He’s not even sure if he could love Tony again, and somehow that thought makes his head hurt. 

He knows that apparently, he fell in love once. 

So he needs answers. 

-

Jim had talked to his parents, but he hadn’t really had an opportunity to talk about anything important. Try as he had to get more information out of them, they weren’t giving much up, except for parts about his military achievements and funny stories that he’s written to them about. 

When he gets back home and he sees Mama, she knows. 

“Come here baby,” she says, putting him into her arms. “Let me answer your questions.” 

“Why him?” 

Mama laughs, grinning up at him from her place on the couch. 

“You reacted like this when you first started rooming together, too. I was worried that I’d be involved in a court case for attempted murder!” 

“And you weren’t?” 

“No,” Mama answers. “Instead, I get no phone call from you for three weeks, until the day before your holiday break started, and you told me that you were bringing who you used to call ‘the biggest nuisance since fruit flies’ home to Thanksgiving.” 

“Why did I...why did I bring him?” 

“I didn’t get that answered until he fell asleep,” she says. “I’m making you some coffee, alright dear?” 

“Okay, so long as I get an answer.” 

“So impatient,” she mutters as she makes her way to the kitchen, Jim following. 

He watches how easily his mom pours the coffee, and remembers in a brief flash that Tony always would bring the fancy, flavored creamer to the holiday events. 

“Oh come on,” Tony said. “You have gotten too used to my kindness, and there’s no reason to stop being kind. Besides, remember last year when you nearly cried because I bought creamer from the store? Yeah, not having a repeat of that.” 

“And would that be so bad?” he teased Tony, wrapping an arm around his waist, and-

He blinks. 

That was...that was definitely a new kind of memory. 

“James, are you alright?” His mother is looking at him, and maybe she knows, maybe she doesn’t know that he just remembered something. He’s honestly not sure. 

“Uh, yeah. Fine. I’m good.” 

Mama looks across the room, smiling. 

“He was a timid little thing when he got here. Fixed up the washing machine when it broke, just in time. Nearly wore a suit to dinner, said you didn’t tell him what kind of ‘casual’ we were going for...” 

He snorts as he slowly remembers that one. 

“What do you mean you didn’t mean a suit?!” Tony had wailed, gripping Rhodey’s shirt. “You said I had to dress nice!” 

“I meant literally anything but your Black Sabbath shirt!” 

“Why would I have worn my Black Sabbath shirt? Your mom would probably think I was a Satanist!” 

They both look at each other for a moment, and Rhodey’s the first one to break and laugh. 

“Listen you idiot, it won’t be so bad. We can just ditch the coat, ditch the tie, and you’ll be...okay. A bit nicer than most of us, but hey. That’s what I get for not telling you that suits are weird.” 

“Suits are not weird, you’re just uneducated in what is sophisticated,” Tony says, turning his nose up as Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sure, because knowing which one is the dessert spoon is going to help me save people abroad. My bad.” 

Tony looks back at him, and his heart skips a beat. It does. Really, it does. 

It almost feels like someone’s reading back to him what he already knows at this point. 

His mom squeezes his hand, smiling. 

“You remember at least some of it, don’t you?” 

“Well...uh, yeah? I-I do.” 

“Does Tony know that you know that you’re...married?” 

“No,” Rhodey says. “I know some, but not enough.” 

“Give him a chance,” she says. “And get back home, I’m sure he’s missing you.” 

Rhodey embraces his mother, and prepares for the drive home. 

- 

Being missed is a weird concept to deal with. 

He also did not exactly think of that. So he’s currently driving back and checked his phone to seven missed calls from Tony, three from Pepper, and one text from Happy that simply reads “lol ur dead hahaha good luckkkkk” 

Well shit. 

Tony, understandably is pissed and scared and a tad upset. 

Not a tad. 

“Where were you?” He says as soon as Rhodey appears back in the kitchen. Tony’s hands wander close, and he almost leans in. 

Almost. 

“I was visiting my parents,” he responds. “Sorry, forgot to text.” 

“Please remember next time, your-well, Tony’s annoying when you leave,” Pepper says. 

(Okay Rhodey doesn’t know how they got away with this for so long, it’s really, really obvious that they’ve been covering it up.) 

“I will,” Rhodey says. “Did I miss anything?” 

“I’ve elected that we’re going to cook tonight,” Tony declares. “I am absolutely sick to death of takeout, and I’m pretty sure that with your lack of knowledge on recipes now, I have you beat in the kitchen.” 

“I can still read recipes, you dumbass. Besides, I just remembered your stupid ‘bake’ hack for your stupid casserole dish, so...” 

“Out of everything, and that’s the thing you remember today?!” 

“Well, I also remembered that apparently you wore a suit to my house for Thanksgiving!” 

Tony stops. 

“What else you remember from that, or was it just that?” 

He doesn’t want to say anything in front of Pepper, doesn’t want to say anything just yet. 

“I remember that you were weird about your suit!” 

Tony deflates a bit, but still smiles. 

God, he looks gorgeous. 

Rhodey blinks. Shakes his head out of the thought.

“So. What are we cooking?” 

- 

Tony and cooking is a very interesting concept because it shouldn’t work. 

He never stops moving, can lose interest quickly, and Rhodey would think that he could burn water. 

But he doesn’t. Tony hums along to music, and he tells him all about his favorite songs and why. 

It’s not any rock music, any heavy metal. 

“I don’t listen to that all the time,” Tony says. “You always think I do!” 

“Oh right, because someone who personally has Angus Young’s number just casually isn’t someone who listens to the band all the time, sure,” Rhodey says sarcastically. 

Tony grins, and it’s probably the best damned thing he’s seen all day. 

His heart zings at the realization that Tony smiling is what makes him smile now, what makes him want to stay and learn so much more about how they came to be, what they’ve done together. 

-

Dinner is fun. Tony tells him all about college and what they used to do, and what Rhodey had done. 

Memories are coming back easier. 

“You totally emailed the professor really petty responses!” Tony cries, laughing. 

“It wasn’t that petty,” Rhodey said, huffing. “He was an asshole anyway, he hated whenever we would come late because we wanted coffee, and your order was too complicated!” 

“It wasn’t that complicated!” 

“Oh I’m sorry, them having it written down behind the register for when you come in?” 

“Oh, like they didn’t have a description of you.” 

“Yeah, as your long-suffering companion,” Rhodey teases. 

“You’ve always been,” Tony says. “Because you’re the best.” 

Rhodey stops stirring the pot for a moment. 

“Rhodey? What is it?” 

“I...” 

Tony stands there, grinning. He’s nervously fidgeting, and it’s his move to say the vows. 

“You know, I wasn’t ever sure you’d be up to marrying someone like me,” Tony confesses. “Especially since I almost burned down our dorm room one time.” 

“Wasn’t just one time,” Rhodey teases. “But carry on.” 

“You loser,” Tony says. “Even now, interrupting my heartfelt moment.” 

There’s a ripple of laughter from the small crowd that’s gathered. Rhodey smiles at him, feels tears prick up around his eyes. 

“But I knew that I loved you ever since you would always buy my favorite ramen even though you hated it, and you were the one to get the pizza when I was sad. I knew I wanted the chance of seeing you every day, coming home to you at the end of the day. You’re home, Rhodey. You’re it. No one else could ever possibly hold a candle compared to you.” 

Rhodey startles, looking at Tony. 

“I...I remember. I remember!” 

“Remember what?” Tony asks cautiously. 

(He can’t be let down. Not again.) 

“You smashed cake in my face at our wedding!” Rhodey yells. “And we got married! We got married! Where the fuck is my ring?” 

Tony laughs, scooping Rhodey into a hug. 

“I can’t believe you remember.” 

“Well I was bound to at some point,” Rhodey says. “I can be smart, doofus.” 

“Don’t call me ‘doofus’ during an emotional outburst you absolute nimrod!” 

“I’ll call my husband whatever I want,” he teases, “although I still wanna know where my ring is.” 

“Come with me and get it,” Tony says. “I hid them in my room, just in case.” 

It’s all coming back, the steps they take, the way that Tony supports him as he moves slower. 

Iron Man, for one. War Machine the next. The dates they went on, the proposal. 

The rings are simple. They’re also not wedding rings. 

The class rings. 

Rhodey remembers getting them, remembers getting his initials and Tony’s on the inside, remembers how Tony made some “adjustments” after they received them. 

“You know that you got me,” Tony had told him. 

It slides on, and it feels right. Feels like something was missing. 

He looks up at Tony, smiling. 

“Show me the pictures, Tony.” 

- 

Pepper walks in to find Rhodey absolutely terrorizing Tony about the decor choices from the reception. 

“So I agreed with red and gold? I had no problem with it?” 

“Well, I did do some major convincing, so...” 

“What does that mean?!” 

"You’ll remember later and be sad,” Pepper says. “Or happy. But please don’t tell me if you remember it.” 

“You loved the color scheme,” Tony says. “Because you love me!” 

“Now I am doubting,” Rhodey declares. “I loved you enough to have those colors?” 

“You lost a bet, Boss,” Friday interjects. “That’s why there were those themes.” 

“Friday,” Tony whines. “Why snitch on your creator like this?” 

“I am not programmed to have loyalty, Sir.” 

Rhodey laughs, taking Tony’s hand in his. 

“Well, I guess I’ll still love you. Even if our wedding theme was weird.” 

“It wasn’t that weird!” 

-

It takes about another month before all of the memories are all back to normal, and in that time Rhodey learns (and relearns) a couple of things: 

1.) The best feeling in the world is waking up to Tony, who sleeps very lightly and also wacked Rhodey in the face a total of ten times. (That’s not a new thing, he remembers.) 

2.) He special-orders peppermint-flavored coffee creamer. 

3.) Tony was lying when he said that Rhodey’s new favorite movie was The Goonies. 

(He mostly forgave him for that one.) 

#lovelyirony writes #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #part two! #rhodey has amnesia #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #also yes the use of 'jim' in the beginning and then transitioning to rhodey a bit is intentional #sorry if it is a bit confusing but i like how i formatted that one so that's what we're getting with this one #i hope you all like it!

[huenjin]

"i am never, ever, going to one of jisung's parties again."

you shift in your 'seat' to try and get comfortable which results in the person underneath to emit a low groan, hot breath fanning against your ear causing goosebumps to rise all over. it's such an inappropriate scene, the way changbin has you perched on his lap, firm hands on your hips to stop you from moving around too much. "comfy, princess?" he rasps, and you have to bite your lip from making any sounds you know will boost his ego. it's already sky high as it is. god you could almost feel the raging hard-on if you leaned further back, even just a little.

it's hyunjin's fault. you blame it all on hyunjin for dragging you there because he said you needed to "have fun and let loose" after 2 weeks of stress and sleepless nights during final exams. you really do appreciate his thoughtfulness, and he's not wrong for the most part, it's just that you would've preferred staying in to binge watch the latest episodes of private lives on netflix. you're so behind on the drama it's frustrating. but when he offered to buy you new clothes for the halloween party, you figured why not? there's no loss with those terms are there?

wrong. hyunjin just conveniently forgot to mention that your natural enemy seo changbin would also be there. and that he'd be hot as fuck dressed as a policeman. if you were being brutally honest you'd like for him to lock you up and use those handcuffs for you, but it's well known around the campus that y/n and changbin do not go together. you bicker, you fight, you squabble every single time you're in the same room, let alone the same space. he riles you up like no other, and you challenge him like none has.

the sexual tension though? un-fucking-believable.

in changbin's defense, you didn't have to look so sexy in that air hostess costume. a flight attendant? he'd love for you to attend to his needs instead. it's true, the both of you can't stand each other but what's a bit of hate sex can't fix? "probably everything." was what his best friend and fellow roommate chan had said. he might be true, but that won't stop changbin from trying now will it? no, of course not.

"truth or dare y/n?"

curse that beer bottle for landing in your direction twice in a row. the first ended up with you in that position. and now? it's about to get real. so there's two options. either you get zapped by the lie-detecting machine or pick a lousy dare. both you're sure will only end up in your misery because your whole group of friends will forever try and get either you or changbin to break and get into each other's pants (or skirts) already. there's no giving up in their dictionary unless when it comes to studying.

"dare."

changbin whistles at your decision, his intense stare burning holes at the back of your head as he removed one of his hands to rest on your bare thigh. every touch of his fingertips sends tingles up your spine, core starting to drip with want. the longing, the need to be filled is overwhelming that your brain turns into mush and all rational thoughts are out the window.

"i dare you.. to kiss changbin. french style, if you will."

fuck it, you thought. you want a show? fine, i'll give you a show.

in the blink of an eye you've switched positions to straddle his lap, taking off the hat he's wearing and placing it on yourself before leaning in to capture his lips with yours. he smirks during the kiss, feeling victorious at you finally giving in at your desires. under different circumstances you'd want to slap that smirk right off, but now you're in too far to care.

it's animalistic, how he has in tongue in you within a split second after giving your ass cheeks a particularly harsh squeeze. the gasp you let out encourages him to move lower and lower to where you need him most. the sucking and biting he litters under your jaw would be future y/n's problem to handle in the morning because right now, you're putty in his hold. the purple and red marks are a sign, a warning. this is seo changbin's territory.

your hands around his neck, tangled in his soft locks earns a string unholy moans you're sure you'll never get tired of hearing. he knows damn well what he's doing. not one sweet spot of yours did he miss, and by the end of it he has your dress bunched up around your waist, lower half grinding down on his crotch.

"fuck, princess, you're so beautiful."

the action has you seeing stars, pure bliss fuelling your veins which keeps you going on and on and on. every drag gets you higher and god does it feel good. when his lips find yours again his thrusts meet you halfway, sinful moans getting swallowed by the wet muscle exploring the vast of your mouth. his taste is your favourite flavor yet.

you well and truly lost it when his dominance takes over. "you're tired hmm? it's okay princess let me take care of you." the flex of his thigh and the way he's pressing you down so that your clit rubs deliciously against the material of his pants has you keening. the words slipping out of his mouth are downright filthy, the knot in your stomach so awfully tight you're afraid it'll snap without caution.

"b-bin- changbin please.."

the audacity of this man to send you a devilish smirk after all you did was be a good girl for him.

"please what, princess? you're so pretty begging for me like this aren't you?"

his praises, god his praises could send you to heaven and back. you live off of him being proud of you, complimenting you as if you're fully his. he owns you. all of you.

"please.. don't s-stop. ah i'm so close. p-please."

"since you asked so nicely."

one strong pull and you're spurting hot white fluid all over his thigh. your newly bought lace panties, needless to say is drenched and ruined from the intense orgasm you had but fuck was it worth it. he chuckles when you pant, soothing you through your high with more praises that has you whimpering for more.

"sensitive are we princess?"

you blush bright red as he takes a good look at you, the condition you're in making you avoid eye contact in embarrassment. hiding your face in his chest, he runs his fingers through your hair and laughs when you hum appreciatively.

"cute."

then you realise the rest of the the room is empty except for the both of you. for once you're actually glad jisung hosted this party because his huge mansion has plenty of rooms to occupy. the door though, is left wide open. so much for privacy.

"do you still hate me?"

he asks out of the blue, catching you completely off guard. you lean back and stare up at him, tilting your head as if he's just asked something ridiculous. he chuckles again, seeming whipped at how cute you were being in response to his question.

"i've never hated you."

"really? then why do you get mad when i flirt with you?"

"because!!!!"

fuck, this is not a post sex kind of conversation.

"because you flirt with literally everyone, bin. i wanted to hide the fact that i do like you so i pretended i didn't."

you expected him to say sorry for playing with your feelings, or at least apologise for giving you mixed signals but all he does is smile sheepishly.

"what? why are you smiling?"

"you called me bin. only my close friends and loved ones call me that."

"and?"

"we're dating as of now."

#changbin smut #from nara #big brain nara #stray kids smut #love parcels #THE WAY THIS IS WRITTEN AHAGAJAJ OMG NARA ILY AND YOUR BRAIN <333 #sparklemin #submission

[binniedeactivated]

txt reactions. || 👾👾

I saw a national children’s day post earlier and got inspired so I’d like to bless ya’ll with some fluff!

(yes I included the maknaes,, even though they are still young I think they would make amazing fathers in the future🥺)

TXT finding out you’re pregnant ....

soobin; it was the same time around soobin’s birthday. you’d been getting so nauseous and sick the past couple of weeks and you had an idea of what was going on, you just weren’t sure. gathering up your courage you decide to buy a couple of tests from the drug store, trying to settle the issue once and for all. you’re heart sunk to the floor once the two small lines appeared on the mini screen. you checked the box a thousand times to make sure the two lines meant you were pregnant. you read it over again trying to make sure you weren’t losing your mind. but you weren’t. you were pregnant. you were kind of freaked out about it so you didn’t know how to tell soobin, in words especially. once he went off to work on songs and dances with the boys, you went out to the store and bought a small t shirt. a baby one that snapped cutely at the bottom. you bought a gift bag and some tissue paper and piled it to the top so soobin had no idea what he was in for. once soobin came home your palms immediately became sweaty. you tried your hardest not to show your nerves. “hey baby. you okay? how was your day today?”. he’d ask. “it was good. I still feel kind of sick though. I bought you something while i went out”. you’d say, shoving the bag in his chest. he’d grasp it smirking, “what’s this?”.  “it’s a shirt that kind of reminded me of you. I thought you’d like it”. you explain with your heart pounding. soobin throws layers and layers of tissue paper on the floor until he got to the very bottom of the bag. he clutches the t shirt and unfolds it in the air to get a better look at it. his eyes widened once he saw that it was a baby’s shirt that read, “I’ve got the best daddy ever”. 

“are you really-?”. he trailed off with his mouth agape. 

“yes soobin”.

soobin drops everything and hugs you, kissing you on your cheeks. “I love you and we got this alright? don’t be scared”. he was trying to be as affectionate as possible but he was jittering on the inside. a little soobin? oh he couldn’t wait.

yeonjun; yeonjun tried to be as patient as he could with you. he thought maybe you were on your period so that’s why you’ve been grumpy these past couple of weeks. the funny thing was, your period had already passed. you couldn’t explain the reasons for your emotions. they were just there and you had no control over them. you cried over every wrong thing yeonjun did. he bought you the wrong flavor ice cream, the wrong sized shoe, the wrong sized clothes. usually you’d shrug these types of things off so you couldn’t believe yourself when you actually began tearing up. you thought maybe you were going through an early menopause or something, you were quite terrified of what was happening to you. you went to the doctor’s office as soon as yeonjun was out of sight. you couldn’t believe your ears when the doctor told you that you were two months pregnant. you told him he had to be lying to you. but it was kind of hard to lie once he rubbed the aquasonic gel on your tummy and placed the probe against it. you saw a tiny being growing inside you on the screen. you also heard some weird sounds to which the doctor was telling you it was your baby’s heart beat. you could cry; as emotional as you were. 

your nerves were already wrecked and to make matters worse you didn’t know how you were going to tell yeonjun. he enters the house that night and you glare over at him. he immediately sighs, knowing you were going to cry over something stupid once again. “you know what babe? maybe we just need some time alone from each other”. he finalizes. “i don’t need time alone. why don’t you want to be with me? you’re supposed to be there for me through everything not just leave”. 

“I’m not leaving. but your attitude is really getting the best of you and I don’t want to lash out on you”. 

“then don’t”. 

“see? it’s smart remarks like that that pisses me off and you know that”. yeonjun snaps. you didn’t know why his attitude grew another type of anger inside you. you took the envelope from your lap and threw it at his head. 

“and now you’re throwing things?”. yeonjun complains while picking the envelope up off the floor. he was going to toss it to the side until he realized it was from the medical office and it had your name on it. “wait what is this?”.

he questions before opening it and sliding the folded ultrasound pictures out of the slot. once they were out for him to see all of them unfolded and he saw it with a full view. his eyes were as wide as moons and he pushes his lips together humming frantically. “baby! you serious?!”. it was kind of cute how his attitude had went away. you folded your arms. 

“two months”. yeonjun smiles and punches the air. “yes!! yes! you know what? I should tell the guys. nah first i’m going to tell my mom. or my grandma. as a matter of fact i’ll wait until we know the gender I hope it’s a boy. he’s going to be a sexy beast like his daddy. if it’s a girl she’ll be so spoiled i swear--”. 

yeonjun babbles, going on and on about his plans. you wanted to continue being angry. but your new soon to be father was just too cute for your eyes.

beomgyu; you knew already. from the constant peeing to the puking you knew what was up. beomgyu didn’t though so it was kind of hard to keep letting him cater to you day after day. he’d leave work early just to come home to you and make sure you were well fed and taken care of. he’d even stop by the store and pick up some medicine to help you feel better. whatever was wrong with you he hoped to god it wasn’t anything serious. more than anything else he loved spending time and having fun with you and it was kind of hard when you were sick like this. well at least, he thought you were sick. you were thankful for everything he was doing so there was no way you were going to keep this secret from him any longer. however you didn’t want to tell him with your own words. you decided to call yeonjun. “hello?”. he answers, “hey yeonjun i have to tell you something”.   “listen if beomgyu once again turned the washing machine on forgetting he had to put clothes in it, that was his own stupidity and i’m not in charge of controlling him”. 

you laugh, “what? no. that sounds like something he’d do. and it kind of worries me considering what I’m about to tell you”. 

“what is it?”. 

“I’m pregnant. alright? what I’m going to call for a delivery to the studio to surprise him. I want you to record everything. don’t tell him”. 

“holy shit he’s going to be a parent? god bless you”. you laugh again, “yeonjun record it!”. “I will”. he promises. 

beomgyu had been practicing really hard today. trying to get the moves correct before the soon to come show. all the members were against the wall on their phones or carrying on. they had the moves down already so there was no need for constant rehearsal for them. but for beomgyu this was the peak of his stress. he watches himself attentively in the mirror until a delivery guy walks in out of the blue. 

“delivery for Choi Beomgyu”, he informs, with a big box of diapers in his hand. beomgyu turns around confused. “diapers?”. the delivery guy nods and the members are on the wall staring with just as much confusion. all except for yeonjun who was recording like you’d ask. the guy hands beomgyu the box and he instantly shoots a look to the rest of the members. “quit trying to be funny. this was a weak joke”. 

“it wasn’t from us”. yeonjun smiles with his phone camera pointed at a frustrated gyu. “oh yeah? then whose it from?”. “your girlfriend”. beomgyu looks back at the box in his hands and think for a moment. “why would she send me a box of---”. and it was clear that his lightbulb had went off. he dropped the box and started jumping around like a lunatic. “babe! baby! is she on the phone with you yeonjun?! is that her?!!”. he screams while the rest of the members clap and laugh. “she told me to record your reaction”. 

“I’m going to be a fucking dad!! holy shit!!”. he screams to the top of his lungs.

taehyun; oh boy. it was a battle between you and taehyun. it was you trying to figure out how you were going to tell him that you were, versus him trying to figure out how he was going to tell you that he already knew. either way it goes, you both knew there was soon to be a little taehyun on board. you’d get all the symptoms, fatigue/exhaustion, cramping, peeing and vomiting. taehyun would do his research on how to comfort you better or how he typed it in his search bar, “how to comfort a pregnant woman”. for some reason taehyun was very knowledgeable on this type of thing. to taehyun it was easy. you were acting out of character way too often and it was often companioned by a stream of odd emotions that he couldn’t explain. something was definitely off about you and it wasn’t hard for him to know exactly what it was. he wouldn’t get angry at anything, he’d rather hold your hands and calmly tell you to relax and that things were going to be okay. he’d ask you if there was anything you wanted from him and if you wanted him to cook your favorite foods before he was off to work. you weren’t far along but you were feeling fat already. you felt yourself get kind of heavier and as a result you ached more than normal. taehyun would run you warm baths and compliment you often. you only let a couple more weeks pass by before you gained the courage. you woke up one saturday morning determined that he was going to know. but there was way too much noise in your house and before you did anything you had to know what it was. you painfully walked to where the noise was coming from and there was taehyun in a black sweat suit with his hat turned backwards. he was sweating and you were trying to figure out what he was doing. 

“taehyun? why are you making so much noise?”. 

“I’m moving things”. 

“for what?”. 

taehyun pushes the dresser in the hallway to the side. he pushes open the door that was behind it. once you saw the view you could just cry. he was turning one of the empty rooms inside your house into a nursery. He already started painting it grey and yellow and adding elephant teddies on the furniture. you held your heart in awe.

“taehy--”. 

“yes i know already”, he laughs. “you’re going to be such a good mommy”.

kai; you have been missing kai like crazy. and even more with your hormones raging now that you know you’re 3 months along.  you couldn’t believe that you guys were going to be parents. it was insane. kai, the chaotic and you, his sidekick? you didn’t know how this baby would turn out. maybe just as crazy as kai. maybe just as crazy as you. maybe a little bit of both. either way you didn’t mind. kai had been touring these past three months and it was especially hard for you receiving the news on your own. he’d face time you quite often and you had to try your best to be normal and to not let your emotions get the best of you. it would be another couple of weeks until he came back but you couldn’t wait any longer. the secret was eating you alive and you figured he had to know one of these days. you and taehyun had been working together to figure out a plan for the surprise. yes, you picked taehyun because you figured out of all the members he’d probably be more organized with this. 

and you were definitely right. it was late and the boys were performing in Kai’s hometown. Honolulu, Hawaii and what a better feeling was it to get this news while he already felt at home? After performing more than half of their newest album, The Dream Chapter: Eternity the boys were more than exhausted. But they couldn’t forget their end of show ritual of talking with MOAS and having a good time with them before they were back on the road. each of the boys gave a separate small speech about their love for moas and how they appreciated them. Taehyun however, assured MOAS that he loved them but he had an even better speech in mind, and that his was especially for kai. The lights in the stadium dimmed at taehyun’s command like he planned, and the giant screen behind them glowed a soft yellow color. There was baby footprints, and a poem that read, 

“Mommy told me your name was kai, so I wanted to tell daddy that I said Hi!”.

within an instant the members were screaming and jumping around along with moas. Kai was shocked. but he was so happy he’d be raising a child with you. he raised the microphone to say something but he couldn’t. his lip trembled and he immediately started crying out of pure joy. 

#txt #txt reactions #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #heuningkai #txt au #txt imagines

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.19 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has been through a lot in his short time in Backwater, but there's always the Dorothy option.

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Read ‘The Dorothy Option’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

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As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. But they still changed and there wasn’t a damn thing Stretch could do about it. He never could.

After Red cut him loose from the shop for the day, walking across the main street to the movie theater was the same, but the breeze cutting through the sweltering heat was different. A couple days ago, Stretch would have eagerly lifted his face into it, let it dry the sweat rolling from his skull and basked in the cooling effect.

Today it was a reminder that summer was actually ending, and autumn was creeping in one slow step at a time. He’d always liked the fall season since they came to the surface, there was no such thing in the Underground. But now that he knew what was coming with the end of the harvest season, it only made him a little sad. It wouldn’t be too long until the scarecrow pole in all the fields was empty.

Stretch paused outside the theater, looking back towards the shop and past it, to the forest behind it. He was too far away to hear the rustling leaves, still green and vibrant, untouched thus far by the changing season. He could still hear it somehow, like a leftover echo, the memory of that sound loud in his head as he turned back to the theater, the constant chatter of leaves scratching inside his skull.

The sound cut off like a stopped tape recorder as the door swung shut behind him. Igor was right inside, looking a lot like an out of work funeral director in his threadbare suit. He looked up from where he was sweeping dandruffy bits of popcorn into a pile and wordlessly went behind the counter to scoop out two cartons of fresher stuff. The dilapidated marquee over the concession stand had only one title on it. ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

“weren’t you playing this flick just a couple weeks ago?” Stretch asked curiously, handing over a fiver.

“Popular movie around here,” Igor told him, tonelessly. Yeah, okay, movies about Kansas and great farming fields, and wonderous unknown worlds where danger lurked. Wasn’t hard to see how people around Backwater could form a parallel to that, hell, there was probably a shrine to Judy Garland in every house on the street, set up with offerings of corn and tiny water buckets.

He looked down at the popcorn cartons that were sitting on the counter, the smell of fresh melted butter rising, and asked abruptly, “can i get a box of raisinets, too?”

Igor nodded and took back the single bill he’d laid down, the box of candy rattling loudly as he set it on the countertop.

Stretch took it and the popcorn and headed into the theater. What was that about, he wondered. He didn’t even like raisins. Maybe he’d take them back for Red.

The theater was empty, without so much as an abandoned soda cup in the aisles and the floor still swept entirely clean. So much for people loving this movie. Stretch sat down in the far back row with his popcorn and candy to wait.

Right on schedule, the lights went low, the MGM logo came up, and then with a swell of music Kansas appeared in a grainy sepia.

He’d seen the Wizard of Oz before coming to Backwater. The first time he’d seen it, they were still in the Underground and it was hard not to make the odd mental comparisons when they came to the surface. Now that he was here in this town, Stretch related to Dorothy more than ever. A stranger in a strange land, sure, but the scarecrow sidekick was pretty damn specific. Would Edgar Allen even know what the yellow brick road was? He was pretty sure the scarecrow in his life didn’t get out of his fields much, if ever.

Never going anywhere, never really living. He sat out there in fields with corn and crows for company, guardian and prison as one. Stretch wondered if that was as sad as his mind kept trying to make it or was he putting his own pathos on an anthropomorphic personification of a scarecrow. Maybe Edgar Allen was perfectly happy with his lot in life. Hell, maybe he was looking forward to the harvest season and a chance to rest without the corn chattering to him all the time, it was possible.

Thinking that made him feel a little better about the situation and Stretch sank back into his chair and munched on another buttery handful of popcorn.

He was so absorbed in the movie that at first, he didn’t notice the seat next to him was no longer empty. A blood-streaked hand reaching towards the other carton of popcorn was his first clue and Stretch bit back a yelp, soul hammering in his ribcage as he inwardly cursed himself for being so jumpy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this before, loads of times now, it was what he bought the second carton for.

“hey, there,” Stretch said softly to his ghostly companion. “sorry it’s been a few days.”

“That’s all right,” Doris told him, her faint voice barely audible over the strains of ‘We’re off to see the Wizard.

The Tin Man was lamenting his lack of heart by the time Doris spoke again, tentatively and filled with quiet apology. “I’m very sorry, I feel as if I should know your name, but…”

Oh. Stretch closed his sockets briefly. Damn it, Red warned him about this, to not be surprised if she didn’t remember him. He didn’t allow the faint sting of hurt to show. It wasn’t her fault, it was entirely the fault of whoever had blown away part of her head and left her here to haunt a lonely, dilapidated old theater until it was time for her to go wherever ghosts did when they moved on.

Whoever it was that did this to her, stole her life and left her mostly alone in death, Stretch hoped they felt that sin clawing its way up their back long after they went to the hereafter.

“it’s okay, doris,” he said as gently as he could while Judy Garland danced across the screen, “it’s stretch, like a rubber band.”

“Yes! Stretch!” she laughed delightedly. She clapped her gloved hands together like a child. “Yes, that’s it. It was on the tip of my tongue when I saw you brought me popcorn, but I couldn’t quite shake it loose.”

No surprise there, half the time she didn’t have much tongue left.

She leaned in over her carton to take a deep, ghostly breath and twin streamers of blood ran from her nostrils. His appetite for popcorn faded and Stretch fumbled out the box of raisinets. The cheap milk chocolate barely masked the taste of the raisins and he grimaced, chewing gamely even though the texture always made him think of eating bugs. Dirt-flavored bugs in chocolate, who the hell came up with this so-called treat and were they appropriately punished for it. He could only hope.

They sat together in silence, watching the movie, and by the time the trio made it to the Emerald City, Stretch was squirming in his seat. Doris’s appearance broke the distracting spell of the movie and now his thoughts were wandering back to that morning and Edge’s sudden appearance in the store with so much worry on his pale face. Then there was that soft, unexpected kiss, so sweet against his cheekbone, a punctuation mark on the end of a silent paragraph and maybe he needed someone else to give it a read.

“doris, can i ask you something?”

She turned to him, the ruin of her head solidifying into a pretty young woman as she tilted it curiously. “Of course.”

“it’s kinda a long story.”

She folded her gloved hands primly into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

And that was her real tragedy, wasn’t it. She was tied to this crumbling old theater, unable to go where she needed to. He didn’t know what happened to ghosts once the building they were tied to was gone. But this place was on its last legs and if it closed, the cushions of empty seats rotting away and the silver screen silent, where did she go? He hoped it was someplace nice, a place where she could rest and always be beautiful, without bringing along the gory remains of her last minutes of life.

But they were working on his issues right now. “it’s about a guy.”

Doris brightened visibly and literally, going briefly more solid. “That Edge person you were speaking of before? The other skeleton.”

“yeah,” Stretch said, relieved. He hadn’t been sure how to bring up what they’d talked about before without making her feel bad for not remembering. “see, it’s like this—"

Doris sat and listened as he talked, as enthralled as she’d been when watching the movie. It was like last time when he’d came to ask her about Edgar Allen; she never flickered when she gave him the full weight of her attention.

It might be bad for the theater to have so many empty seats in the house, but it was good for people with the bad manners to talk over the movie. Stretch told her everything, didn’t hold back a thing. About meeting Edge in Red’s living room and his attempted lamp-ocide, about their impromptu lunch at Mama’s. About his brief starring role as little orange biking hood when he ventured to their cabin in the woods, about Frisk. The only thing he didn’t mention was the whole ‘me from another universe’ thing. That was a lot for even him to bend his mind around and his was still in one piece. Doris never interrupted, listened all the way to the end, until Stretch was nearly hoarse as he said, "…so what do you think?"

"Hmm. He certainly sounds charming, in a rude sort of way. My, it makes me think of Pride and Prejudice," she laughed softly. "Although your Mister Darcy showed his true nature far sooner in your tale.”

Thinking of Edge’s hips in a pair of those tight old-school trousers while he danced a waltz was not at all helping the situation and Stretch shoved that thought deep into a mental closet for later.

“but what should i do? he confuses me so much i don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt around him.” He slid down in the chair until his skull was resting on the back. “and then there’s red to think about, he’s done so much for me. he says he’s not worried about his brother, but…” Stretch trailed off and held up his empty hands.

She nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t want to stir up trouble in their family, especially since it seems they already have some rough waters.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, tiredly. He knew something about stormy weather in a sibling relationship. The last thing he wanted to do to Red and Edge was bring in rainclouds of his own.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said at last. “Tell him what you’re feeling. It seems to me he’d listen to you and he wouldn’t…” Doris’s mouth moved but her words faded. Her pretty visage changed gruesomely, a full show of her shattered face and skull, the fragile bits of bone littered across one shoulder while blood filled the ruin of her eye socket.

Stretch swallowed hard and didn’t look away, waiting until she slowly returned to appearance of a lovely young woman who was finishing triumphantly, “…and who knows what will come of it after that!”

Okay, well, half an advice was better than none and he sure wasn’t gonna ask her to repeat herself.

So. Talk to him. Right. Not bad advice, maybe a little generic, but then, Doris didn’t know about his past history when it came to relationships. She also didn’t know that Backwater wasn’t a permanent assignment for him. He wasn’t too sure about bringing that up, not when it affected her, too. Maybe it would be better to let her forget him when he was gone; with her memory, she might not even realize what she was missing aside from the occasional wistful thought about a spare carton of popcorn.

But she wasn’t wrong, either. Much as he wanted to continue skipping through his life of avoidance, there was only one way he was going to get any real answers. Maybe it was time to figure out exactly where he and Edge stood. His sense of balance in life was pretty damn shaky as it was, and Backwater seemed to treat the laws of reality as more like suggestions. Why would the laws of gravity be any different?

Plus, there was another mystery Stretch was looking to unravel and he was already working on a plan for that. He owed some gratitude to a bony skeleton dragon in the woods and Stretch wasn’t keen on owing debts.

Doris folded her hands into her lap primly. “So? What are you going to do?”

“eh,” Stretch let out a little laugh, “something stupid.”

“Oh.” Doris pursed her lips. “Is it safe?”

“nope,” Stretch said cheerfully and poured himself out another handful of chocolate pseudo-bugs. “but i’ve stayed alive so far. may as well press my luck.”

On the screen, Dorothy was repeating her most famous line and he had to agree, there was no place like home. His only problem with it was that he was starting to get a little fuzzy on where exactly that was.

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tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater