#but even now that I own my car it's still not the safest course of action

[vase-of-lilies]

Efforts to Make Amends

❀ Tfatws!Bucky x Mom!reader (f)

❀ Non-con and rape (DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT), past abuse, past parental abuse, mentions of captivity, fluff, childbirth, some suicidal ideation (but no actions), taking of virginity, some after sex bleeding, talking badly about a baby, pregnancy, dad bucky 🥺 (if there is anything else, PLEASE let me know!)

❀ Word Count: 6.3k

❀ A/N: This came to mind when I was just thinking about Buck:) I don’t know if this is already a concept, but if it is here is my take on it! :D

The cry of the newborn baby sent shivers down your spine. Not a scared shiver, or a nervous shiver. Just a shiver. You are her mother now, and you can not let this baby down. You won’t let this baby down. As the nurse gently handed the bundle of joy over to you in a pink blanket, you laid eyes on the most beautiful little thing in the world. With her eyes barely open to see, her blue eyes stared back into your own. 

Tears filled your eyes as you held her to your chest, her babbles slowly dying down to soft breaths. You smiled down at the tiny human in your arms, clutching onto your finger softly. You heard the heart monitor go off, and you immediately held your daughter tighter in your arms. Not wanting to let her go, not for one second. Your OB/GYN entered the room, smiling brightly with the paperwork of your brand new baby. 

“All is well with your little girl. I’ll let you decide on a name and we can fill out this boring stuff.” She chuckles and sits next to you on the bed. 

“Oh, I really like this one.” She hums softly at the baby names in question. She points to the fourth one on the list that you made on a piece of paper. “Clarisse” is the name she chose. It was your mother's name. Bright, shining, gentle, and brave. She was your advocate through the years you were held captive by your own father. 

Of course the circumstances of how this child came into this world is not how you imagined it, you are still eternally grateful to have her in your life. 

It was at this moment you knew all too well what you had to do. You had to start brand new; New name, address, hair color. Everything you can to stay away from the life you were forced into as a child. Going by the name Carla, you set off out of the police station with your new ID, and a new life ahead of you. You couldn’t hold back the smile that had formed on your face by the time you made it to the bus stop. 

Paying the bus driver, you sat down on the bench by the window. Carefully holding your newborn baby to your chest, you stare out the window at the passing cars, buildings, and people. All making their way home from work or even to work. Even the people who call themselves “superheroes” have a home to go to, don’t they? No matter where you go, you know you have to provide what's best for this baby. The police were some help, getting you your ID, colored contacts as well as a wig and a new passport. But it was a long, aggravating process. With every woman looking at your baby with prying eyes, getting ready to let their lips loose in the daily office gossip session. 

Finally, it was time to leave. It was time to leave the life you were previously living, and set off on a new adventure with a new companion.

~~~~~~~

Arriving at the airport, you follow the directions to buy a ticket to Spain. With what little Spanish you knew was not the problem at this point. It was getting away from a crime populated city such as New York. The culture, the people, and the ocean around the country felt like the safest option. 

“ID, ma’am.” You heard the woman at the desk say. Pulling out your ID, you make sure it is your new one. This has a special hidden key trustworthy people can scan that tells them you are a witness in protection. They are very caring with you, and question nothing if you hesitate with your new name. “Carla Davenport. Date of birth November eighteenth.” Fuck! What's the year?? “Year?” The woman asks. “U-uhm, 2001...” You almost say it as a question, but the woman smiles and hands you back your ID. 

“Enjoy Spain!” She says from the desk, and onto security you go.

~~~~~~~

The plane ride was long, and agonizing with how anxious you were. But Clarisse easily soothed your nerves. The looks people gave you were noticeable, and the last few people to board on the plane seemed reluctant to sit next to you. A newborn on a plane is someone's worst nightmare. But Clarisse was a sleepy girl, and slept a majority of the flight. The moments she did start to cry, you knew she either had to be changed, or was hungry. Once you went to the bathroom, you sat on the toilet and began to breastfeed your little girl.

The mirror that was across from you, a woman you barely recognized stared back. False black-dyed locks fell around an exhausted, hurt, and abused mother. There wasn’t much that stared back. You peeled your eyes away from the mirror, and pinned them back on your little girl. Clarisse was enjoying her milk, and was soon going to fall into a milk coma. You just knew it. 

Sighing as you sit back down, you look back out the window. The night sky was absolutely beautiful at this time, and you loved what it looked like. Even though Clarisse was asleep, you still pointed out the lights along the coast that shaped the continent of Africa, and soon to the lights that covered Madrid. Your new home town. 

As the plane landed, you stopped at the gift shop to get a Spanish-to-English dictionary to start learning. Also stopping at a small convenience store in the airport, you exchanged all of your US dollars to Euros and bought some diapers and a diaper bag as well. It was the small things that the program didn’t provide that seemed to be the biggest issues for you. But you were grateful for the small apartment they found, and even more grateful that they provided rent for the first year of living there. 

Getting a job will be difficult, but you knew that you would figure it out somehow. With how populated the world is, there is bound to be an English speaking job for you out there. But that was the least of your worries right now. What you needed the most was food, sleep, and a warm blanket for you and Clarisse. All that you needed for a couple nights was already at the apartment, and you were eternally grateful. 

Finally getting to the small one bedroom apartment, you immediately lock the door behind you, and set off to the small bedroom. There is a mattress on the floor as well as a few blankets and a pillow, but other than that nothing much else. It was simple, and you liked it. Just for you and your little girl. You smiled as you saw the view out the window. The beautiful city lights shone through the fire escape balcony, giving a soft glow in the bedroom. It felt safe. 

Getting out a diaper and some wipes, you begin to change Clarisse. “I know sweet girl, it’s been a long day.” You whisper, giving soft kisses to her face as she babbles into the open air. “Are you gonna sleep well tonight? Hm? Or are you gonna keep me up?” You chuckle at the small girl in front of you, and you softly tickle her sides. Her incoherent giggles are music to your ears, and it is nothing like you have ever heard before. “You are so beautiful my little flower.” You smile, nuzzling your nose against hers softly.

After getting Clarisse all settled, you decided to move the mattress just under the window to get the perfect view of the night sky. You lay your head on the pillow, a feeling you haven’t felt in a very long time. Your little girl snuggled right up next to you, and stared up at the sky as well. You knew she would grow up to be the best little girl there is, and there is no doubt about that.

~~~~~~~

Sweat covered your forehead as you ran through the cold Russian woods. Barely escaping the Hydra base with your ankles not broken. You kept running until you knew you were far enough away to take a breath. But oh... were you wrong. The Winter Soldier was right behind you, every step of the way. It almost felt like he was in the trees, stalking your every move just like your father had conditioned him to. 

The man was silent as he looked for you, but the silence screamed death. You were terrified, and rightfully so. Even trying to hold your breath so no one could see it, including you, was one of the only options to stay hidden. Besides trying to hide within the trees, and snow on the ground. It was hopeless. You could already hear the crunching of the snow underneath the heavy combat boots of the Winter Soldier coming your way. 

This was it, you were going to die. You never knew why your father kept you in the base, but he would not be disappointed to hear that you were gone for good. Maybe it was for the best. No one would have to worry about keeping you silent, or contained. With the secrets you know, you could uncover the world's most dangerous criminals, documents, and codes to plenty of nuclear energy. But you swore to your mother you would never tell a soul. She loved her husband and her daughter equally, but her caring nature made her keep the world she lived in safe. 

You were in your thoughts for too long. ‘Fuck-’ you suck in a breath, not moving an inch as you feel the cold blade barely cut into your neck. “Please...” you couldn’t believe you were begging for mercy, but you were strong. You had to stay alive; for your mother. “Cooperate and I won’t kill you...” the soldier said in a dark voice. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t going to kill you. 

Instead of questioning him, you gave a small nod. “Good girl.” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. Soon the cold spread from your arms all the way down to your most intimate parts. He had sliced away at your thin hospital-like gown, and stripped you bare. You couldn’t do anything with a knife to your neck so you stayed still. “Please d-don’t, I-I’ll go back wi-with you, just p-please!” You quietly beg him, but he has already stripped himself of his own tactical pants. 

He ignored your pleas, commanding you “Be a good girl and lay on your back...” A whimper left your throat and you froze. “N-no.” You stated, calmly. Instant regret filled your veins as he swiped his foot underneath yours and you fell to the ground. Your head hit a root sticking out from the ground and your vision was rendered blurry. “P-please...” Your attempt of a small plea exited your mouth, but you gave up. 

His veiny, god-like sculpted cock filled your cunt to the brim. You tried to scream, but nothing would come out. He started to thrust, and thrust, and thrust. It felt like it never ended. His blue eyes stared into your dull y/e/c eyes with no emotion or mercy. He was told to do this to you, and it traumatized you. With no luck, you tried to push him away but he was quick to pin your hands above your head with his strong arms. One metal, one flesh. 

“It's ok... just take it...” Was he trying to comfort you? 

“I- I can’t...” 

“You will.” That was the very last thing before you were left in darkness, unconscious and barely alive. 

~~~~~~~

Clarisse lets out a small cry, waking you up instantly. “Hey sweet pea, shh shh mommas got you.” You whisper to her, gently rocking her in your arms. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew for sure you only slept a wink. You stayed up the rest of the night, helping her to sleep, feeding her every now and then, and getting only some sleep yourself. You were more than happy to stay awake for her, and that was a sacrifice you were willing to take. 

Once the sun started to come up, you yawned and decided to see what snacks you had brought from the airport. Some ChexMix and an apple was enough until you gathered enough courage to go grocery shopping. It had to be about 9:00 once Clarisse started to wake up. Swaying her as she drank from your breast, you hummed her a soft song and smiled from above her. As she drank, you began to grab what money you had, Charisse's baby bag and a face mask just in case someone did end up recognizing you. It would be lethal to have anyone from Hydra even know you exist. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky POV:

Of course I regret everything. I have to live with what I have done every day of my life, and deep down I know that I can’t blame myself for my actions. It’s not something to get used to. Some would say that I have gotten used to hearing the last breath come from someone's gurgling throat. Some would say that “he likes to watch them die.” But in truth, nothing is worse than seeing someone's life drain from their eyes just like a painting being washed away; the paint clinging to life to stay on the canvas but the water just too damn strong. 

A victim I remember very clearly, said whilst looking through the barrel of my gun “Fools make romance of death, for it is brutal and cruel. That I say be at peace with my passing is not such a thing. But once it is done, I will be safe and sound once more. I will live as long as I can, be with you as many days as we are sent, then keep me in your memories. I will see you again. That is a promise.” He was right, I would see him again. Not in heaven, or hell where I belong. But in my nightmares every single night. Therapy can only do so much for a broken, lost and helpless soldier. Let alone a 106 year old one. 

However, I was slowly making amends with the people who were fortunately left alive. Yori Nakasima, the sweet old man I have lunch with every Tuesday is just an example. He was not a victim, but his son was. He was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time, and in turn he fell straight to the line of fire. My line of fire. No matter how much I try, I can never expel the begging that came from his mouth. He was innocent and had absolutely nothing to do with that mission. Simply… a loose knot that had to be tied tight. Yori and I went our own ways, and it makes me happy to see him still go to the same restaurant every Tuesday. He may not remember our conversation, but rest assured he can sleep knowing what happened to his son. 

One more name.

One more name and I can throw this damned book away.

Y/n Y/L/n. 

Y/n has been on this list for four to eight months now. Her name staring back at me with anger and regret. God why did her own father make me do this? Thoughts were racing through my head as I searched for Y/n, but nothing came up besides death certificates. She can’t be dead. She has to be alive, I know that she got out of there alive… Going deep into police, military and FBI/CIA records, along with the witness protection program as a sergeant, I was able to find someone by the name of Carla Davenport. I obviously knew this was wrong, and I was mostly doing this for myself. But there was one part of me that wanted to tell her that she is safe, and that she could finally rest with her guard down. 

Doing further research, I finally came across an address. I lucked out by being in Madrid at the time with Zemo and Sam while I did my research. All I had left was to confront her and tell her my intentions. Knowing Y/n, she would be feisty, careful but most likely fearless. I know her, and she would fight with every last cell of energy in her body to win. I slightly jump as I hear my phone buzz and I answer Sam.

“Hey Sam.” I said, jotting down Y/n’s new address. I heard a sigh on the other line, and I knew I was in for something. 

“I got a call from a CIA agent who found a breach in the witness protection program. Was that you?” Sam replies. 

“Uh, why would you think it would be me? I have no reason to be on that site in the first place.” Seriously? What kind of answer was that?? “Dr. Raynor told me you needed to find some people… Buck come on man, we could have done this together.” 

“Whatever happened to patient privacy? I found what I needed, so can I log out and be on my way?”

“Listen, I know you’re hurting. Especially over Y/n. I'll help you find her, but can we please do it the legal way?” He sounded convincing enough that he actually wanted to help, but I knew that it was just a ploy. Or, maybe that was my irrational thoughts talking for me.

“I’ve gotta do this on my own. She is the last one before I can finally go out and live how I want to. She will determine if I deserve to be free.” There was silence for a short period of time, and then another soft sigh from the man on the other line. 

“Alright, fine. But if I get one more phone call telling me you did something illegal, you’re kicked off my team for charades, and you are going to talk with Dr. Raynor. Do you understand?” 

I chuckled at his threat, and I nodded to myself. “Yeah, Sam. I understand. I wouldn’t want to bother Captain America with calls from random CIA agents about the site of witnesses in protection. This is honestly something Raynor should have let me do. She was the one who told me to “use your resources'' where there was nothing else to use. Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow Buck. Have a good night.” 

Hanging up the phone, I sigh and I finish writing down the information from the website. Now that I knew where she lived, it would then be the hard part of everything. Telling her what I did, and apologizing for it. 

~~~~~~~

Your POV:

It had now been three full weeks of living in Madrid and you were living your best life! You had a desk job dealing with English complaints for a website that was fully in Spanish, and your little girl could be with you all day long. Being able to earn a stable living was nice in such a large and new country. Also with your new way of life, you were not living off of ramen and buttered toast. You were able to make full meals with fresh ingredients from the finest vendors just down the street from your apartment. Steamed vegetables, freshly cooked meat that only needed a little bit of heating in the oven and your own seasonings and finally the glorious, melt-in-your-mouth Churros con Chocolate was what you were blessed with for dessert. It was heaven, and you were living in it with such happiness. 

Clarisse is now one month old, and has been a little more aware of what she can do with her body. Even at this young age, she knows who you are and who you are to her. Soon she’ll be running around on two healthy legs with energy skyrocketing every second. Watching her grow up is the highlight of your life, and you never wanted it to end. Her eyes would scan each room you went through, each aisle you walked down, and even grabbed up at you from your arms as you made your way down to the baby section. Clothes, shoes, food. Clothes, shoes, food. All you needed was those three things, and you would be on your way. 

It was a relief that you had not encountered a challenge by anyone. Not when little Clarisse cried for a little bit, and not even when the panic set in at the sound of the bustling cars outside the store. It was a success, and you could not wait to get home. Checking out with ease, you held Clarisse close to you as you took your groceries in the small basket on the back of your bike, and strapped the little girl into her car seat carrier on the front of your bike. “All safe and sound, my sweet girl,” You whisper, gently putting her blanket over her. On the way back to your apartment, you followed the same route to and from. Two lefts, a right, up the hill and to the left. It was almost a song you replayed over and over in your head, just to help you get home. Just like your mother taught you;

Down the hall and to the left, a little bit longer, up the stairs and in my arms you go! This song was to navigate the hallways of the large house your father had bought your family before he decided to keep you as his own lab rat. 

Once you made it into the safe walls of your home, the lock was the first thing in place after putting your bike inside. Clarrise still strapped in her seat, you rolled the bike to the far wall of your kitchen. The babbling baby in her carrier made you smile as she reached out to you, her feet kicking in excitement as she made eye contact. 

Holding your little girl felt so right, yet so wrong at the same time. Not only was this life forced upon you, but this baby took everything from you. Your passion for dancing and painting, your want to go to college, desire to learn and grow. This creature that is in need of so much care and attention took all of that from you. But so did he. He hurt you the most. 

Every day memories flow through your brain like a movie projecting onto a loosely hanging sheet. Warped, but clear for a person to know what happened. It was your duty to Clarrise that she did not know your past, and that she was brought into this life in a way that is a crime. And she never had to know. Having her not grow up with a father was a sacrifice you were willing to take to keep her protected from the pain you went through.

Your alarm on your phone went off, and you sat down on the couch to feed Clarrise. As you unclipped your padded bra, you froze at the sound of a knock came from the front door. Luckily Clarrise didn’t seem too hungry at the moment, so you slowly approached the door. You looked through the peep hole and saw a man. He had short brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He looked… gentle. 

As you held your child close to your chest you slowly opened the door.

“Can I help you?” 

He looked down at you, a hight difference clearly present. He smiled at the small child in your arms and responded to your question. “Im looking for Carla. Does she live here?” 

You nod and say “I am her, is there something I can do for you?” You ask again, wanting a reason for the sudden visit from this man. He looked back to your face and you made eye contact with him, it was his eyes that looked so familiar. 

“Right, I just moved in down the hall way and wanted to introduce myself. Im James Barnes, and I’m from 107, that way.” He pointed down the hall way and you followed his finger. You nodded with a smile. “Well, its nice to meet you James. Would you like to come in? I was just about to feed this little one, but if you don’t feel comfortable with breast feeding, you don’t have to come in.”

You invite him in, not thinking of the dangers or intents of this man. He kindly accepts and enters your small apartment. Offering him a seat on the couch, you sit down opposite from him in the rocking chair. Putting a cover over Clarrise, you begin to feed her, the milk coming from your breasts entering her mouth as she begins to feed. 

“What brings you to Spain? I don’t know a lot of English speakers here besides the land lord.” You say, wanting to start conversation. He nods and shrugs, smiling softly. 

“I just needed a change of scenery, thats all.” He keeps his answer simple, not knowing how to bring himself to tell you what he did. 

“Have I seen you around? You seem very familiar, maybe in the market?” You ask, knowing you have seen him somewhere. 

This was his chance, this is the time to tell her. 

“No, I don’t think it was in the market,” He says in a sad tone. “It was a while back, I- um, I worked with Hydra. For your father. A-and I was ordered to do something very harmful to you, and I believe it was the result of- of her…” He slowly explains as he takes off his glove, revealing his metal hand. 

Your heart drops, the puzzle piece finally fitting in the right place in your mind. Tears pool in your eyes as you look from his eyes to his hand. The metal one. The memories come flooding back to your head, the nightmares, the feelings, and the eyes. His eyes, those got forbidden eyes. As cold as ice, yet as blue as the ocean of where you pictured yourself at the time of his assault. 

"I am only here to apologize. I am not asking for forgiveness. I am no longer the winte-”

“Why,” you cut him off. “Why did you do it?” Your voice cracks, many emotions coming through your gritted teeth. 

His eyes softened at your broken voice, and he sighs softly looking down at his hand. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did my father do? What did he do to you?” You ask, pity also filling your voice as you too know what horrors other prisoners went through. You felt bad, even for him. You tear your eyes away from him, moving them to your baby, his baby. 

“He did horrible things, but nothing compares to what he did to you. What he made me do to you. I- Im so sorry Y/n…” He takes the risk of saying your name, not expecting anything from it. 

“What are you doing here, James? What do you expect me to do?” I ask, trying to understand why he is here. “Did you come to finish the job?” You ask the question that dreaded your mind the moment he told you who he was. 

“No, not at all. I actually came here to offer protection. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me or the life you had to endure when under the horrors of Hydra.”

You considered. You actually considered letting him stay and try to protect you. “What or who am I in danger of?” You counter his offer, trying to prove something but unsure of what. You sigh and shake your head. “Forget about it. Im in the witness protection program, so protection shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Carla. How do you think I found you?” He asks, exposing what he did to find you. 

Your brows furrowed and you glared at him. “I see.”

You didn’t engage anymore, you were numb and didn’t know how to feel about the situation. You felt violated all over again, by the same man. “Leave. Please just go.” You whisper, tears falling freely down your cheeks. Once Clarrise was done eating, you clipped your breast back into your bra and stood up. You didn’t notice James put a card on your coffee table as he made his way to your door. 

“I understand your fears. I hope you have found safety in Spain, Carla.” He said emotionlessly, actually understanding your fears. As he went back to his apartment which he did actually buy, he sighed and shut the door. 

As he dialed the only phone number he actually knew, he slid down the door and sat against it as the line rung. He closed his eyes and let his head hit the door. 

“Hey, you’ve reached Sam Wilson, Trauma counselor at the department of veterans affairs. Please leave a message and I will call you back when I’m free. Thanks!”

“Sam, It’s done. She- She’s crossed off the list.” 

~~~~~~~

Hours had passed by the time you could even speak. “How could he have found us?” You ask as you bounce Clarrise in your arms. The sleeping little girl in your arms was clueless to your question, hopefully dreaming of running free and not in hiding anymore. “My god, maybe it would be good to have protection…” 

You were talking to Clarrise as if she understood, but you knew she didn’t. You give her head a small kiss, looking in the direction of the coffee table in the middle of your small living room. An index card sat on the corner, scribbled on it was a phone number and a sloppy “107” on the bottom. You knew who this was from. 

You sighed and sat on the couch, cuddling your baby close to your chest, clutching her as if she would disappear. Staring at the piece of paper in your hands you contemplate calling him, contemplating on apologizing. Apologizing on your fathers behalf. 

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for your phone and dialed the number. 

~~~~~~~

Bucky jumped at the ring of his cell phone. He instantly recognized the number from the witness protection program website. 

“Hello?”

You took a few seconds before talking. “I know you know who this is. I’m making dinner a-and was wondering if you would like to join me?”

Bucky was taken a back by the sudden invitation, “Oh, sure I would love to. What time should I be there?” 

Responding rather quickly, you said, “Now?”

Before he could say anything, you had hung up and began making dinner. Boiling water for the noodles, opening up some seasonings you had just bought and putting the bread in the oven, you were ready for James. 

He knocked on your door and you put Clarrise in her bassinet in the living room, keeping an eye on her as you cooked. As you opened the door, you smiled softly at James. Instead of fearing him, you wrap your arms around him. He freezes, not yet used to such a gentle gesture from someone. 

As you sigh into him, he returns the hug and softly wraps his arms around you too. “Im so sorry James. Im sorry for everything my father did to you…” You know you shouldn’t have to apologize, but you can’t help but feel obligated knowing what James went through. 

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. It was and never will be your fault. Do you understand me?” James said, giving you a soft squeeze. 

You nod silently in response, and you gently pull away; tears falling from your eyes. Out of instinct, he cups your cheek and tenderly wipes the tears from your cheeks.

You lean into his benevolent touch and look up at him, a sense of security falling over yourself. Even though you knew him as the winter soldier, you knew you were safe with James. You knew that Clarrise was his child as well, and that she was safe with James. 

Gently reaching for his hand, you lead him into your home. He shuts the door behind him, and smiles as you walk to the kitchen continuing your work making dinner. You pause and look over at Clarrise who is now wide awake. 

“Do you want to meet her?” You ask, noticing James looking over at the babbling baby. 

He nods with a smile, subconsciously knowing that Clarrise is his child. As you approach the bassinet, you smile down at her. “Hi sweetheart, are you awake?” You ask in a small voice, smiling as she smiles back up at you. Picking her up, you hold her against your chest, looking to James with a smile. 

“I named her Clarrise, after my mother. Do you want to give her a middle name?” You ask, subconsciously accepting that he is her father. He looked to you and tilted his head. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, not wanting to force himself into the life you and Clarrise already have. You nod and wait for him to give an answer. “What about Sarah? After my sister?” 

Your ears perked at the word ‘sister,’ “You have a sister?” You ask with smile. 

“I had a sister. She um, she passed away a couple years ago. But she was sweet, and I think that it would be perfect for this sweet girl as well.” You smile at his suggestion and nod in approval. 

“Clarrise Sarah Barnes.” You utter, gently handing James your baby girl. “It’s ok, you won’t hurt her, I know you won’t.” Looking up at him, you can see the hesitation in his eyes. As he takes Clarrise in his arms, the connection is clear between them. A father-daughter bond that no one can just create. She was his.

“She’s beautiful, just like her mother.” He subtly compliments you, himself falling for you. This time in the form of true love, not forced love. You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile pulling at your lips. 

“She has her fathers eyes,” You point out Clarrise's blue eyes, still slightly forming as she grows. “And his bravery.” Adding onto her attribute, you look at James face as he interacts with the baby. 

Thinking of his preposition, you say to him, “You know, I wouldn’t mind a little protection. I-it would be nice to not feel so scared going out. Clarrise I bet would love to have her father around as well.” 

You anxiously wait for James’s reaction, hoping he doesn’t think you are moving to fast. Relief flooded your system as he nods. “I promise you, no one will hurt you. Not anymore.” He says, turning his head back to you. “I promise, Carla.”

You shake your head, and wave your hand a little bit. “Y/n is fine. Im sick of being someone Im not.”

He chuckles softly. “Trust me, I get it.” You smile and you move next to him, leaning on his strong bicep as you both look down at your beautiful baby girl. 

“James?”

“Yes, Y/n?” 

You pause.

You smile as he transfers Clarrise back into your arms. She has fallen asleep again, so you put her back in her bassinet. With the knowledge that both of her parents looking down at her, it makes you feel secure and safe. 

You turn to Bucky and look up at him, your hands coming to meet his cheeks. The proximity of the both of you made your heart beat quicker, and your mind blank. You did what you felt was right and leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. His hands hold your waist gently, and he pulls you into him. You pull away breathlessly and he kisses your temple. You move your arms around his torso, and he holds you in an embrace, his chin resting on your head.

"I’d like you to stay. Please.” You answer, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth as you feel him nod his head. 

“Of course, princess, of course.” He cradles the back of your head in his large hand and kisses your forehead once again. He may have hurt you in the past, but he’s gained a little bit of your trust. He showed you that he is sorry, and you understand that it was not his fault. In this new chapter of your life, you know you will make it far.

And so will your baby girl. 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x mom!reader #TFATWS!Bucky x reader #Bucky banres x Y/n #slightly dark fic #bucky x reader #Winter soldier x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst

[loudblonde]

Simon "Ghost" Riley X Male!Reader Mafia AU (Chapter One)

M!reader is the son of Price who is the leader of a mafia family, under him is of course M!reader who grew up away from the family and under his mothers' wings, unnamed mother.

+18 themes, minors do not interact.

AO3 Link down below

Warning: General Mafia BS, I am no expert or in it, this is just a generalisation of the crime world and what belongs in it, so keep it in mind when reading, blood, slight gore and guns, as well as violence and skewed power dynamics. Murder… duh. Inaccurate car stuff.

Simon “Ghost” Riley, was head of security for the family, by all means, he was a “made man” who was part of the family, he knew way more than most people assumed, and his silence was often mistaken for him not paying attention. He was always listening in on everything.

His boss, Price, was someone Simon was fully loyal to. If he was asked to do something or go somewhere, he would. No questions asked.

Simon prided himself on his ability to protect anyone, even the most slippery bastard or the loudest hostage. Maybe it was just the skull mask which wasn’t actually a real skull but many people assumed it was, it kept people quiet enough, made his job easier. Plus he had Roach to help him out if need be. Usually, the need was indeed there.

Ghost was never surprised by anything or anyone, he had seen a lot of shitty things and done a lot of horrible things. But when he entered his boss’s office and saw the most handsome man he had ever seen sitting in a chair in front of Price, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Price wasn’t smoking a cigar, he had been, the smell lingered in the room, it burned his nose even under the baklava, yet the smell was not strong enough that he had smoked it all the way. Another thing he noticed was the fact Ghost had not seen nor heard anyone enter the house and definitely not someone such as the man in front of him.

Ghost decided on just closing the door, letting silence take over as he walked further in and stopped right behind the two chairs, the man glanced at Ghost and he felt those (E/C) eyes pierce into his soul, like a predator waiting to pounce at its prey. “Good-” the sound of Price's voice snaps him out of it all, “-you made it.”

“Yes sir.” Ghost responds his voice rasped and monotone, as always.

Price smiles. “Gaz brought my son, (Y/N), with him home last night,” Price motioned to the man who finally took his eyes off Ghost. “There is some trouble and my son has no problem taking care of anyone who comes for him… I need him gone for the month so I can deal with it all personally.”

Ghost understood his assignment quickly. “You want me to take him out to the cabin for the month?” Ghost asked.

“Yes. It would be the safest option, for now.” Price said, heavily implying it may change.

Ghost nodded. “I can do that, boss.”

Prince chuckled. “I know you could, do not let it slip to anyone that I have a son, he is kept a secret for a reason.”

(Y/N), who was standing beside Ghost, chuckled. It was a deep chuckle that rumbled from the chest and escaped through the lips. “Aw dad, didn’t know you cared that much.” He said, making a joke. He turned to look at Ghost and once again those eyes stared straight through his soul into the deepest parts of his subconsciousness. Anyone in their right mind would be put off by it. “My stuff is already in a car waiting for us. When you are ready, meet me out there.” (Y/N) said and left the room, closing the door behind him as he left.

Ghost let out a deep breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in. “Scary innit?” Price asked amused. “He got that from his mother, scariest lady I ever met.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a son.” Ghost said, still not sitting down.

Price nodded thoughtfully. “It was on purpose, his mum wanted him trained like ‘er before he came here to learn, I know that boy can handle my enemies.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at that. “But?”

“He is my son, he shouldn’t have to face it already, that is why I have you ‘ere. Protect him because when I go, that boy will take over, he is starting his training officially when all of this is over.” Price said.

Ghost nodded. “Alright, I will grab my to-go bag and take him away until I get further instructions from Lasswell.”

Price nodded and reached over, he grabbed a small vile and held it out. “If you get caught and see no other way out, that is enough to kill 10 men.”

Ghost hid it in his breast pocket. “Thank you, boss.” He said and turned to leave, he reached the door handle before Price called out.

“Oh and be mindful of no intimate relationships.” Price said as he got back to work.

“Wouldn’t dream about it, sir.” Ghost responded as he headed out of the room, he glanced at Gaz, the only person who had been trusted enough to know about (Y/N), Ghost gave Gaz a nod before walking away.

Once outside he saw (Y/N) standing against a car, phone in hand, the car itself was nondescript and bland, perfect for driving into the forest to the lakeside house. From a distance the young man didn’t look like a threat, he just looked like a bored (your age) who wanted to leave and do something else. Ghost knew better though, those few seconds spent together had shown him the truth of the matter, the danger that lay beneath the bored mask.

Not even Price scared Ghost… no Ghost wasn’t scared or anything else, thank you very much. No, he was… dispassionate and efficient, good at his job. He never got emotions involved with the job.

—

(Y/N) felt eyes staring at him, not that he cared… Well, maybe he did care, being away from his mothers' training and suddenly under his fathers' wings who he didn’t even know was… weird. Everything about this was weird and off-putting. (Y/N) knew Gaz well enough, he was the one person who brought letters from his father, starting a year back until they met in person half a year ago, all his training went out the window. He was no longer the one doing the dirty work but it was being done for him.

(Y/N) lifted his eyes and glanced at that man, his father explained his call name, “Ghost” and the reason why. (Y/N) had to admit, he felt sorry for the big geezer. The skull mask was freaky though, if (Y/N) hadn’t seen skulls up close before he would have thought that was real, the attention to detail was near perfect.

(Y/N) pushed off the car gently and got into the back seat, hoping that would make the man get his hint. Ghost apparently got it because not even 10 seconds went by before the trunk opened, something was thrown in and it closed again. The infamous Ghost got into the driver's seat and took off silently. (Y/N) didn’t mind the silence, it gave him time to let his mind race before he had to be alone with this man for 30 days.

“I wasn’t given a Lastname, do you share it with your dad?” Ghost asked 30 minutes into the drive. (Y/N) blinked as he looked at the driver.

“Erm, yes, I share with my dad, mum always said it was so I could remember him if I never met him.”

Ghost nodded at that. “Your dad mentioned you had training.”

(Y/N) nodded at that as he looked out through the tinted window. “My mum makes money off doing jobs no one wants and she is a good mercenary or disposal agent.” He said.

Ghost hummed in response.

“She trained me well, not enough to outdo her, but she trained me well.” He chuckled, leaning back. “Killed my first guy when I was 15, mum didn’t want me starting too old.”

Ghost glanced in the mirror but (Y/N) didn’t discover that. “I… you are good at that.” (Y/N) said finally glancing in the mirror. “Even with that mask of yours, getting people to talk, that is impressive.”

“So your mum is a merc who makes people go away. Any way I have heard about her?” Ghost asked.

(Y/N) shrugged. “Don’t know her professional name, or her name, I just know her as mum. What about you, Ghost? You got anyone besides dad?”

Ghost shook his head. “I have no one besides the family who saved me and took me in, that is where my loyalty lay.”

“Good.”

The next hour passed in silence as the car drove across highways and into normal roads before turning into dirt roads, if (Y/N) wasn’t aware the car was built to look inconspicuous and still handle a bit of everything, he would have been worried the car was gonna break down. City, to small town to village until they hit open fields and forests.

The car stopped outside a too-big lakeside house, (Y/N) figured it had been bought for family vacations that never happened, for just a moment he allowed himself to think about what could have been before he sighed and grabbed his bag.

He unlocked the home and entered, beelining it for the safest room, knowing he would be told to bunker down in there anyway. The house smelled vaguely of wood polish and cigars, perhaps even whiskey and vague iron from blood left to seep into wood somewhere.

The furniture was all old and covered by sheets to keep dust away, he didn’t hear footsteps behind him. (Y/N) didn’t mind it, it gave him time to clean up. He sat his things down and started in his room. Taking the sheets off the bed, dumping them just outside in a basket and made his bed. Silk pillow sheets and regular cotton sheets for the duvets before a blanket came on top, everything was decent, not perfect.

He heard the door open and slide closed, a quick glance and he saw a skull mask he would need to get familiar with. He kicked his boots off and headed out, taking sheets off the furniture as he hummed lightly under his breath, fully intent on ignoring the presence of the glorified babysitter.

He felt Ghost’s eyes on him, trying to pick him apart but (Y/N) didn’t budge.

“Once you are done undressing me with your eyes, mind taking these to the linen closet?” He asked, pointing to the basket filled with folded sheets. (Y/N) missed how Ghost’s eyes widened shortly, he focused on sweeping dust away and opening windows while activating the alarm system to detect if anything entered those windows.

He heard feet shuffling away and Ghost coming back as he finished. (Y/N) turned to Ghost and watched as he tensed up slightly. “Do you have any dietary restraints?”

Ghost carefully shook his head. “Good, I was told about the mask, if you wish to eat separately I won’t push.”

“Thank you.” Ghost said, his deep voice ever so raspy. (Y/N) stopped himself from imagining thoughts about this man that would land them both in trouble, these 30 days would only spell trouble and tension for them, he already knew that much.

Tag list:

#simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod x male reader #male reader #price is a dad #you can't change my mind #simon riley x reader

[internetgremlin-writes]

Hi!! Im not sure your prompt night is still open or not so feel free to ignore this, but congrats on 1.3k either way!! Could I request Seb Vettel with prompt number 90?? Something fluffy if possible, thank you!! <3

90 - “If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?”

oooo go on then. How could I possibly ignore Seb?

This is the last one for tonight because it's getting super late. I have some pre-reading and work to do before I go on placement on Monday so I won't be writing consistently over the bank holiday weekend but will try to chuck out a bunch more during my breaks each day. Every request is getting done i promise <3

love that i've managed to scare you guys into specifying fluff bc you know i will make it sad otherwise. On another note. Seb's smileee

Secret relationships were never easy, you knew that. But it came with the territory, and you were willing to accept it. It made sense, paparazzi just loved to catch drivers on dates and then stir up stories about them seeing multiple people at once until it blew up into a big scandal.

When Sebastian Vettel had asked you out, you were hesitant at first. Dating people in the F1 industry was pretty normal. You were one of the few female engineers, and you'd grown up working in a male-dominated field. You were used to male attention and awkward dates with colleagues. But there are awkward dates with colleagues and then there's been asked out by a four-time world champion and one of your heroes of the sport.

You'd met Seb when he joined Aston Martin, and you'd never been happier to be put on the team managing the green car with a number 5 on it.

Sebastian had a reputation of being a terrible flirt, and you were concerned that as the only female on his team, he'd see you as anything less than your peers. But he didn't. He was interested and respectful, he asked you questions, he wanted your opinion. Several times he stopped one of your co-workers from talking over you when you were mid-point in a meeting.

He'd asked you out over a year ago now, bringing you a coffee because he'd noticed that for the third night in a row you were working until you were the last one in the garage. You were so tired you told him you loved him when he pressed the machine latte into your hand.

It took him a week to coax you into going on a date with him. You liked him, of course, you did. Working with him had given you time to get to know him for more than his reputation. He was sweet and kind, funny - he could make you laugh even on the worst days, so incredibly stubborn, he cared about politics and human rights, he gave a lot of his money away to charities, he was heading an environmental campaign. And he was drop-dead gorgeous in his own understated, scruffy way. But you were terrified of him, of the attention it would thrust on you, of what the media would say if they caught a whiff of it.

He promised you that it would be okay to keep it a secret. He didn't mind, he understood. Of course, he did; he was bloody perfect.

And everything had been going perfectly. You'd moved in with him in Switzerland. It was new and completely different but you adored it there. Seb was a master at avoiding the media, and he knew all the safest spots. Most of the time you didn't even have to think about your relationship. Even when you were working with him, he was very professional, and when the wins started trickling in he was so swamped with the attention that no one questioned his head engineer giving him a hug.

It was in Abu Dhabi that everything changed. Out of nowhere, Aston Martin had managed to pull a car together that Seb had just taken to. It was like he was one with it again, and then he started scoring points. And then podiums. And then wins. It was like his Red Bull days, except a lot more green and a few fewer parties. And now you were standing in the garage in the pit line, your nails bitten completely down to the quick as Seb was in a locked-out battle with Max Verstappen. It was one of those awfully exciting final races, where the world champion needed to win the race to get those last few points.

You screamed yourself hoarse when the nose of your green baby tipped through that chequered flag. The entire garage erupted around you, the energy crackling through the place was untouchable. Seb was dancing on his car, some arms stuck out in an odd flapping dance that was probably mimicking the wings of the logo. You were so proud of him, of both of you, because it had taken so many late nights sat up, you tinkering with parts and him studying tracks to do it.

What you didn't expect was your boss approaching you. The team didn't win the Constructor's championship, but because Seb had won the last race there was still a constructor's trophy that needed collecting. You weren't sure you were hearing properly when you were asked if you'd do the honours.

"On the podium?" You squeaked. Crowds weren't your thing. Seb got wind of what was happening and he'd grabbed your arm and marched you to the podium before you could say anything else.

The ceremony was unreal, it almost felt like an out of body experience. You cried through the German national anthem, and you could tell Seb was too. This had been a long time coming for him and you knew there were no words to describe how badly he wanted it. The weight of the champagne bottle was much heavier than you expected it to be, and shaking it was a challenge, but you managed to get a decent spray. With yourself and Seb from Aston Martin, and Toto, Max and Checo from Red Bull rounding out the podium you found that you'd naturally split into two celebrating groups. You and Seb were spraying each other, his grin devilish and you knew what was coming the second before you felt the cold splash and knew he'd emptied the rest of his bottle directly over your head.

He then took your bottle and shared a very large swig with you. The atmosphere was electric, confetti everywhere and a shower of champagne covering the pair of you. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be able to be celebrating with him on the podium, let alone for his fifth championship crowning.

"If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?"

Your heart was thudding in your ears. The Red Bulls were celebrating right beside you. The entire grid and all their teams were below you, screaming and shouting and cheering for your boyfriend. No, for the love of your life. Cameras were broadcasting you to millions of people, but the only person Seb was looking at was you. There was only one answer you could give him. There was only one answer you wanted to give him.

You grabbed the collar of his race suit and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips onto his. You felt him smile into the kiss as the noise below you erupted once more, wolf whistles now piercing the night air. He kissed you like there wasn't a soul watching, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you slightly off the floor as he did. When he pulled away it wasn't far, his forehead pressed against yours.

"I love you,"

He'd said it before, but it felt different now. The five-time world champion loved you.

"I love you too,"

You picked up the remainder of your bottle of champagne and dumped it out over his head, catching him by surprise and pulling an infectious giggle from him as you did so. You stepped back to run away, but Seb caught you before you could even try to get behind the Red Bulls, who were watching the pair of you with mild amusement.

He pulled you back to him, dipping you down like some kind of Disney character as he kissed you once more, one of your legs lifting off the floor as he supported your arched back. It tasted like champagne.

That photo broke the internet.

It was also framed in almost every room of your home.

#1.3k prompt night #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #seb wins 5 championships and i will hear nothing else thank u #cheeky seb fluff #formula one #f1

[petalsofyouth]

you haven’t posted in so long can we have a wip or something? maybe a story you are working on right now or some parts of koi no yokan? anything would be fine pretty please

i know, love, and i am really terribly overwhelmingly sorry i haven't posted anything in so long! i can't decide what wip to post though, haha. i have 5 of them... so i am gonna go with 'kny' aka my safest choice, but tell me if you wanna see something else <3

But Ran knows you both are here. He heard his car pulling by - the sweetest fucking sound anybody could ever made - and then watched his precious baby disappear under the building, swallowed by parking area. He couldn’t see much after that, but a long time later and a pan of burnt mushroom sauce, he could hear you talking and then opening the door and then closing it. He waited for Rindou and since his younger brother clearly wasn’t coming back, hurt and neglected, Ran invited himself over and rang the bell. 

“Whatcha taking you so long?” There’s slight irritation in Ran’s intentionally lazy tone with which he addresses chewing Rindou. Ran’s eyes are slits then and his mouth presses into thin line. He’s seething. That much Rindou can tell. “Are you eating?” 

“I am eating. She is in the bathroom.” 

“Why is she in the bathroom?” 

Rindou blinks a few times, his long eyelashes dancing up and down in disbelief. He opens his mouth, clicks his tongue and bites down every harsh remark he has on his mind now regarding his brother’s ability to think rationally. Instead he steps aside and lets him in. “I don't know why people use bathrooms. Crazy, right?” 

On the counter top in the kitchen sit a great deal of plastic transparent containers full of food. Judging by the smell of it, most of it has got to be pickles and some other long preserved appetisers. Some of the containers are opened and when Ran comes close enough to peek inside of them he can see that his brother - who else? - tried food from every single one as there were missing pieces between neatly placed food.

“Harumaki is pure fucking bliss. Try them.” 

But Ran doesn’t try anything, he is still irritated and he still feels like he’s been excluded. He leans his body on the table, his back at Rindou and looks at the direction of your bathroom from where he can hear water running. He knows he is being ridiculous and he knows that Rindou - who’s rolling his eyes at his older brother - knows it too. But what’s worse is that he knows that they too both know what this irritation means. If it was somebody else, not his own brother, he could’ve played it as his usual dramatic tendencies, but Rindou understands him even before he himself does. 

Inside the bathroom, you don't hear anything. Your brain is mush and you are too tired to really focus on anything else rather than hot droplets of water that so nicely help you relax. You wash your hair, your body and then you do your skincare routine and even apply some cherry chapstick you accidentally forgot in Tokyo and missed so much at home. The bath and a bit of alone time dedicated to relaxation was all you need to feel yourself a bit more energetic. That doesn’t mean though that you were ready to go out or do any crazy active activity. All you wanted was to burrow yourself in a warm blanket, eat something and possibly fall asleep again. 

You dry your hair with a towel when you emerge from the bathroom. You want to ask Rindou if he is done with that bag and if any of the food went bad when swiftly you stop. You sense Ran before you see him. You aren’t quite sure if it’s the foreign burnt smell of mushroom mixed with his signature cologne or his tangible strong presence that you are struck with, but you hang the wet towel on the door handle and storm into the kitchen to see that you aren’t mistaken. He is really here. 

“Ran.” You say, stopping halfway. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling so hard because it’s stupid and of course you look wacky and all of a sudden you get shy. Your eyes freeze and you aren’t looking at Ran, but at Rindou who is behind him and is trying so hard to pretend he is still looking through the remaining containers. 

It’s only worse that Ran too is growing timid. In his own way. His high cheekbones are dusted with pink and he smirks noticing your reaction to him. He loves that he can understand how you are searching for comfort and help in his brother. Ran’s only wish is that someday you might be able to seek those qualities in him. 

For now, he is amused. He opens his arms not ungluing himself from the table and the ease with which you fall into them makes his insides go so soft and tender he thinks he will burst right this second. Your domestic look and sleepy face intensifies his emotions even more. He doesn’t remember if he ever saw you like this or is it his first time, but he supposes and rightfully so that it’s because he hasn’t seen you for twelve days that he feels that way. 

“Did you burn something?” You ask him, tilting your head to the side so you could see his face. His hair is up in a messy bun and few coloured long strands are loosed up snaking its way around his shoulders. Before you never noticed just how long his hair is. You think it’s weird how you never paid attention to it when it’s one of the 

“Yeah. So bad I threw the pan away too.” He chuckles. “KFC?”

"KFC." You say.

“KFC.” Rindou sighs.

#it's unedited #there's gotta be some typos and spelling mistakes so i am sorry in advance #it's part 30 in second part of kny #a bit sappy but i kinda like it #wanted to post instead a moment when they take a bath together #but thought this is better #i actually can't wait to finish the second part so you can finally read it #ran x reader is everything i have on my brain #nothing more just ran x reader

[reidsnose]

Window

overview: reader accidentally falls out of a window while having a late night talk with spencer (loosely based on the song: home by edward shapre and the magnetic zeros)

genre: angst? FLUFF

warning: blood, head injury, hospital visit, overdramatic reader thinks shes dying

a/n: i really really dont know if yall will like this but i do and i think its cute so please lmk what u think ab it :)

masterlist

-

-

Spencer knew it wasn't the safest thing in the world. you did too. but something about sitting on the outside window ledge together, talking and laughing, was far too tempting of an offer to pass up. and besides, it was just over 6 feet off of the ground! whats the worst that could happen?

and so you sat, shoulders smushed together so you could both fit. a blanket wrapped around you both, keeping the cool night air locked out. however, you were so close together (and so flushed) that even without the blanket you'd both still be warm.

you adored nights like this with him, thinking to yourself how you got lucky enough to call him your best friend. to anyone else, it was obvious you two were deeply yet obliviously, painfully in love. you watched as he retold a memory he had of the two of you, eyes widening and hands peeking through the blanket to gesture wildly with each sentence. though you were listening to the story, growing more and more fond of the memory now that it was being told from his perspective, you couldn't help but be distracted by him. his essence. his being. he was...intoxicating.

and then he cut to the punch line and looked to you for a reaction, watching beauty radiate from you as you threw your head back and laughed. he didn't even realize how funny it was until he saw how hard you were laughing. and then you snorted, which of course caused you to laugh more. with tears nearly coming out of your eyes, you wrapped your hands around your aching stomach, trying to control your laughter and completely forgetting that you needed your hands to keep you balanced on the window.

he took you in, a tranquility like no other filling his heart.

and then it happen.

in slow motion he watched you lose your balance, unable to catch his grasp as you fell towards the ground outside. fear coursed through his veins as he tried to calculate every possible out come. and then suddenly time was back to normal, and you were on the floor, a fresh cut on your head.

without missing a beat he jumped out after you, landing far more gracefully than you had.

you felt him lift your head into his lap, barely hearing his muffled words. you nodded when he asked if you could hear him for the fourth time. and then you felt some blood trickle down your face. and you did not do well with seeing your own blood.

that was it. you were gonna die. you never told him how you felt and you were going to die. you could even feel death pulling on your eyelids.

in reality, you had landed on your hip and your head hit a pointy rock. it felt like hell but medically you would be just fine. it looked a lot worse than it actually was, head injuries produce far more blood than other body parts.

spencer knew this as he peeled the cardigan off of his shoulders, bunching it up and applying pressure to your wound.

he picked you up bridal style, trying hard to cradle your head at the same time. he was beyond relieved at how relatively minor this was going to be. you would heal, and you would be ok. he got to his car and gently placed you in the passenger seat before running to the drivers side and taking off as fast as he possible could.

"Spencer," you rasped.

"don't talk very much right now. don't worry i'm going to get you to the hospital just stay awake for me you've probably got a concussion." he explained, looking over worriedly.

"im going to die." you told him, your brain feeling foggy from seeing your own blood.

"no you wont. i promise you wont die."

you went on telling him again and again how you would die and how the team shouldn't cry for you. and he patiently explained every time that you would be ok. and as he carried you into the ER you took one look at the cardigan that had rested against your forehead and convinced yourself 110% that you were on your death bed.

so it was now or never.

"Spencer before i die i want you to know that i love you. i always have. i just had to get it off my chest before i left this world with you still in it." you blurted as the doctors began to take you away.

he stood there, mouth agape at your confession.

"she is not going to die." one of the doctors reassured Spencer before turning on his heels and jogging to catch up with the rest of them.

it had to have been the loss of blood. or maybe a concussion fogged your thinking. or maybe he's in shock and he's hearing things. because there is no possible way that that just happened.

and so he sat in the waiting room for nearly an hour while they stitched up your head, nervously tapping his foot to match the pace of his racing thoughts.

he was thinking through every single moment the two of you had ever shared, wondering if-hoping that there was some truth to your confession, when they called out your name. he shot up faster than he ever had before, even getting a little light headed at the sudden quick stance.

he walked in to see you sitting up, drinking some apple juice that the nurses had brought you. and even then, in a hospital bed with half a dozen stitches in your forehead, you looked more beautiful than ever. he was astonished. absolutely astonished at just how radiant you were. your eyes twinkles as you smiled at him.

"so false alarm.. i didnt die." you joked, trying to hide your embarrassment, handing him a hospital issued jello.

"im so glad youre ok. you know i told you from the start we shouldnt have sat on the window," he chuckled, eyes feeling teary for a reason unknown to him.

"i know i know, you're always right." you giggled a little before wincing in pain from it.

his hand came up and lightly brushed your hair back, soothing you so much your eyes immediately fluttered closed. he had to bring it up, he had to know.

"did you mean it?" he asked.

you tried to control your heart rate while you played it dumb, "well yeah i really did think i was going to die."

"thats not what i meant."

"i know." you admitted. "yes. i meant it. i still mean it and if thats weird for you and you want to leave i completely understand-"

he cut you off by pressing his lips to your own, soft but passionate, tasting of jello.

it was a better profession of love than any speech he could try to make. because regardless of how many big words he used, it wouldn't be enough. not to mention that being around you makes his brain turn into mush, rendering it completely useless.

your heart rate monitor started going absolutely wild, beeping quickly and erratically. you both started laughing into the kiss, reluctantly pulling away. euphoria coursed through your veins, two lovesick bozos in the hospital.

you two talked for a little, buzzed from the kiss., smiling like a couple of idiots. but you were happy. sitting in the hospital with a cracked open head and you were still happy. because Spencer was there. and he makes you happy.

after talking to the doctor and a phone call with hotch, you were told to take two weeks off of work. spencer insisted that he go home early every day so he can come over and take care of you. and that was fiinnneee by you.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #garcia #hotch #morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #prentiss #jennifer jereau #jj #david rossi #rossi

[oneoftheprettynerds]

So We Meet Again: Dark! Stucky x Reader

Requested: Yes, based on a prompt by @heavenlyseb

A/N: I was halfway done with LACs next chapter but the inspiration died Idk why so I thought I’d invest the creative energy somewhere else and then try my hand at that again. Thank you to you for dropping this request in my ask box, @heavenlyseb​. 

WARNINGS: Non-con, Mental breakdown, spiking a drink.

Summary: Reader tries to escape her past but it’s harder when your past includes dangerous men.

Word Count: 1.3 K {so drabble I think}

The entire day something had felt wrong. Maybe it was the universe’s way of sending you a message, foreshadowing misfortune in ways it knew. 

For the first time ever you had messed up breakfast, spilling the coffee and burning the toasts. Then you had forgotten some very important papers at home that Steve thankfully had a soft copy of on his laptop. After you left office earlier than him like you always did to go home and cook, you had your car die on you and leave you stranded. This series of unfortunate events didn’t end there; unfortunately, it followed you home. 

The streak continued with the laundry getting messed up, all whites turning pink and colored fabrics getting bleached. You fingers got stuck in a drawer, yours toes also getting stubbed. Nevertheless the day wasn’t even close to beating the worst day of your life; more like the worst few months of your otherwise simple life.

A shudder ran through you as the thoughts and memories you had buried so deep surfaced again. With one uncurbed thought that gave rise to the unpleasant memory train, you were back in that posh glass office again.

 It was New Years Eve. The decorations were still hung up around the large rooftop arena, from Christmas a few days ago. The bars had the strongest alcoholic drinks wearing pretty shades of blue and orange. There were plants draped in ornaments, a lot of them. You remembered chuckling about how the potted plants were a show of wealthy people, all affluent people pretending to have a green thumb or care for the Earth.

You greeted the people you knew and joked about resolutions. You remember hanging out with the only actual friend you had there, the receptionist Lucy. Anyone else you talked to at the company was merely a coworker, some of them plotting your downfall even. But Lucy was genuine, and so your only friend.

Said friend however, did abandon you few minutes prior to midnight with poor, half a hearted apologies, running in preparation for her midnight kiss. You giggled and honestly, weren’t even offended, just amused by her antics.

You planned on sulking in the corner with the other singles who weren’t ready to mingle and saying goodbye as soon as the clock hit twelve. That plan failed when your handsome hunk of a boss, whom you had seen only a handful of times and encountered for even fewer, brought you a drink and asked for a few minutes of your time.

You don’t know what made you go then, nor do you have any better take on the situation even now but the gist of it all was that you did oblige. It could have been the alcohol coursing through your veins, the encouragement by others’ jealous stares and Lucy’s wink or even the slight crush you had on the man with the cerulean eyes.      

However, going to his office and him fucking you on that sandalwood desk wasn’t your choice.

You remember him kissing you at the midnight stroke, a kiss sizzling with passion and yearning. When you both pulled away, you felt flushed and giddy but the carnal desire in his eyes after just one kiss alarmed you. Still, you offered to exchange numbers for a follow up, he was your boss after all but your dazed mind could not even remember your own number.

Your mind began to lose consciousness as you sweated and your skin heated, head and folds burning alike. You slipped in and out of articulacy, fragments of memory in your mind.

You shook your head as you realized you were shaking, keeping the knife down on the board and halting the slicing of tomatoes. You wiped your tears as you chided yourself for almost getting into another accident, a fatal one even, zoning out like that with a sharp knife.

The sound of the door opening and closing made you calm, Steve was home now. You hadn’t told him everything about your past yet, just bits and pieces, but you had never felt unsafe with him. He was nothing short of a gentleman, courted you properly and even waited months when you weren’t initially ready.

He let you progress the relationship on your terms, his support always there whether it was the question of spending a night together or moving in. His arms were where you felt the safest, his strength a promise of protection. 

A second set of footsteps made you furry your eyebrows, Steve didn’t inform you of company tonight. You pushed your anguish aside, putting on a facade for his guest as you got back to chopping. 

“Honey, I’m home.” Steve’s holler made you easy, his presence itself was comforting.  

“I’m in the kitchen.” You sung back, the nickname making you smile. 

“I brought a guest for dinner, hope you don’t mind.” He called out from the living room, the slight thud of furniture telling you they sat there.

You checked the broth, dinner for three would take time, even more so as your bad luck kept you on your toes today. Switching off the stove you sighed and made you way to the living room.

You planned to ask Steve to order and simultaneously greet his guest but ice froze in your veins when you entered the square doorway. Your planned again and at this point, one would think they had a knack for unsuccessful plans.

You could never forget the broad shoulders, the silky brunette locks and the sapphire blue eyes of James Buchanan Barnes, the handsome devil that haunted your existence.

You remembered waking up to your senses getting slaughtered. The drag of a cock in your hole as you clenched as tightly as a boxer’s fist. The squelching noises, the breathy moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. It took all you had in you to open your eyes every time you slipped out of consciousness.

You remembered being taken on every surface in his large office, against the glass panels looking onto the city below, on his velvet sofa, even his private elevator.  

Barnes had whispered sweet nothings in your ears that night and every night after like he was your lover, not your assaulter. How he cornered you with the obscene footage the night after when you threatened to press charges. You both knew then that you had no hope, no chance of winning against him and would have no dignity either if released some footage with some faces blurred.

He used and abused you and his power, until the day you finally gathered your guts and went far way, a new place, new start. 

You believed you didn’t leave a trail behind but then how was the devil himself greeting you in your own home? 

Your whole body shook like it did minutes earlier and you found Steve gently cradling your face. You flinched at his touch, skidding away, “Get this man out of here, Steve!” If looks could kill, the brunette would have dropped dead.

James Barnes had the audacity to smirk as you brushed a hand through his hair, ever so confident and smug, your shaken form amusing him.

Steve hung his hand around your shoulder and wiped a tear that had escaped. His arms were your haven and such you had believed until a moment later, “That’s no way to greet Bucky, sweetheart.” 

Your head whipped at light’s speed as you looked in horror at Steve, the hold on your shoulders tightening and keeping you alongside him.

“He was kind enough to give you months to adjust but now he misses you more than he can endure.”

  “Steve, you don’t know what your bastard of a frien-” You started hoping it was a misunderstanding on your part.

At the curse, Steve’s grip became bruising as he cut you off, “Trust me sweetheart, I know. Bucky and I don’t have secrets.” 

#Dark Fic #dark!steve rogers #dark mcu #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #dark!stucky x reader #dark! stucky #ceo! bucky x reader #ceo! steve x reader #dark! ceo! stucky #stucky drabble #ray writes

[whumperooni]

I’ve been having this though, Mama rei todoroki who recently taught her little girl to pleasure herself given that she’s come of age, now she can’t stop and does it everyday all over their house, rei comes home earlier than the rest of the fam to her passed out from so many orgasms naked from the bottom half and covering her up with a blanket right on time before her brothers, sister and dad come back, to rei covering for her saying she fell asleep on the couch 👀 👁👄👁

Mama rei teaching her girl how to touch herself anon here 😅 forgot to add that the rest of the fam are secret pervs for her but rei know which is why she covers her up

Nonny, pls, I do adore this. I wanted to write a lil somethin' longer for this, but pls have my crumbs~

(tw incest, tw toxic dynamics, tw possessive behavior, pregnancy mention)

♡♡♡♡♡♡

The gala was nothing but a weary burden on her nerves. Rei held out as long as she could, tried to be a dutiful wife and stay by her husband's side but...

But then the pain from wearing too tight heels became too much and her throat began to close at all the sweet words people were singing to her, Enji. It was mercy that allowed Rei to take her leave without Enji growing furious- he'd been softer lately, more patient with her ever since her belly started to swell with child- and she had fled home as quickly as she could while the others had lingered behind.

And a good thing, too- Rei could never see Enji dealing you mercy with the way you're lounging lascivious and nude on the couch.

A soft huff and Rei sighs- eyes tracing over your slumbering form and taking care to gaze at the wetness between your legs, the tiny vibrator clutched in your palm. She's not surprised- no, of course not; she taught you how to do that. She was the one that had gifted you that vibrator and she’s the one that gave you little lessons late at night, taught you how to soothe the burning need that’s been flaring up furiously over these past few months and leaving you a flustered wreck.

You caught on quick, of course...and then you had fallen into the habit of getting off anywhere and anytime you could. And then Rei had to teach you about discretion and warn you to keep your (admittedly adorable) moans and whines quiet when the rest of the family is home- she’s seen the curiosity and lust in her childrens’ and husband’s eyes and she can’t let them dig their claws into you; she can’t let them take you away from her.

You’re the only child that is still hers- her baby, her sweet and clinging little girl.

She’s not ready to let you go- not to them.

In the distance, a car door slams and Rei sighs as exhaustion whirls through her. She spares a last glance over you- over your parted legs and shining mound, your relaxed face and the happy tilt of your lips- and she smiles tiredly before gently tugging the vibrator out of your grasp and fixing the blanket snugly around your snoozing form. If you’re lucky, everyone will hole up in their rooms and you’ll be able to slip into your own without being caught. If you’re unlucky...

A frown tugs at Rei’s lips and she smooths her hand over your hair before straightening up. The family trickles into the room as she settles herself into an armchair and they barely spare a glance at you as they scatter deeper into the house. Enji scowls when he sees you sleeping, but he only heads toward the kitchen and Rei is able to relax as her company dissolves down into you and Shoto- sweet, awkward, ugly Shoto who only serves to kindle her shame and quiet rage.

He’s the one to keep his gaze on you and Rei watches as his head tilts, as his two toned eyes run over your blanketed form.

In an instant, she knows that he knows- knows that you’re naked and sleeping off a stolen, greedy afternoon of orgasms.

Rei frowns and clears her throat to catch his attention.

“You all returned early,” she comments- tone carefully neutral, eyes chilly when her son meets her gaze.

He looks away- at the wall behind her and then his phone when he pulls it out- and Shoto shrugs, nods.

“All Might was getting on dad’s nerves. Everyone else wanted to leave anyways.”

Of course. That’s how it usually plays out when it comes to the events they’re strong armed into attending by the hero commission. It would have been more convenient if her husband could have handled his temper and ego better, but... 

Rei nods, tired, and she settles back into the armchair, places a hand to the soft bump stretching her dress.

“Your sister is napping and I’m tired. Go to your room, Shoto.”

It’s not a suggestion, but neither is it a cruel or sharp order. Shoto still frowns, though, and Rei has to hide a sigh when he throws a pointed look your way before walking off obediently.

She has to have another talk with you. She has to be more firm with you. She needs to find a way to curb your need before Touya decides he’s bored with his current rotation of whores or Natsuo stops pretending he’s morally superior to the rest of the family.

Rei’s head aches and she closes her eyes- brows pinching together and teeth gritting tight.

...she’ll provide your outlet. It’s the safest course and, honestly...

Grey eyes open and sweep over your slumbering form, settle on the gentle curves of your hips. You’re a sweet girl- a good girl- and you don’t deserve this family.

Rei does, though- she’s long abandoned her pride and owned up to her particular brand of toxicity. Enji broke her of her illusions when he shoved her face into Shoto’s and forced her to look at his burn and his tears and the fear in his eyes.

She’s no better than the rest of them, but at least she’s your mother- at least she cares about you.

(Even if she hated you all throughout her pregnancy; even though she cursed and screamed at Enji for putting her through that hell again as she was pushing you out of her body)

A sigh escapes Rei and she looks over you with a strained, sad smile.

She’ll watch over you.

Someone has to.

Ask box | Rules/Info Page | Inspo Tag | Ao3 | Support Rooni | Invite Code Hub

#tw incest #pregnancy mention #tw toxic dynamics #tw possessive behavior #todorokis being terrible people #todoroki degens #rooni's shit #it's queue my darling

[reidgraygubler]

the threat is gone (spencer reid/reader)

Title: the threat is gone

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @imagining-in-the-margins, but I took it off her hands :) (Reader is being threatened by an unsub and is given safety instructions by reid that she disobeys out of boredom, so when the threat is over she tries to joke/lie/argue her way out of trouble but he’s in total dead serious fbi interrogation mode and calmly hauls her over his lap and doesnt stop til she’s crying hard and has told him everything and then he comforts her n from there whatever)

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader 

Category: angst, slight smut (either way, minors dni)

Content Warning: swearing, dishonesty, being spanked (to the point of tears), aftercare, D/s dynamic, reader being a brat, usual criminal minds case stuff, post prison & post series!reid, implied age gap (10 years),  use of a safeword

Word Count:  3,901

Summary:  Spencer sends Reader to a safe house after she’s threatened by an unsub. Reader decides to take her fate in her own hands and leave the safety. When Spencer finds out what she did, there’s hell to pay

A/N: happy easter to those who celebrate! pom (aka @imagining-in-the-margins​ )posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. and i loved the request so i took it off her hands. also thank you to @newportonmymind for beta reading this for me!! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

“Anderson and a cop are going to take you to a safe house,” Spencer looked down at me. I shifted on my feet as I looked up at him. My heart was in my throat. I didn’t think this unsub was that bad. 

“I’m not going to a safe house, Spencer. Being here is probably the safest place I could be. By your side… With the team,” I stepped up to him as I grabbed his hands. He looked down at me, a certain frustration in his eyes. 

“His victims are too much like you. We’re not taking that chance, I’m not taking that chance. Do you understand?” Spencer’s voice was low as he spoke. I swallowed roughly as he placed his hands on my shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I understand,” I scoffed and shrugged his hands off my body. Spencer looked at me, watching as I collected my belongings. 

“Please, just trust me,” his voice was soft. I looked up at him, putting my bag across my body. 

“Yeah, of course, Spence, I trust you, wholeheartedly,” I smiled at him. He didn’t believe me. Granted, I didn’t exactly believe myself either. Why would I? I’m being snappy and sarcastic, and dismissive to everything he said. “I’ll be safe. Anderson and a random cop will be with me. Do not worry,” I went up to him before pressing my lips to his. 

“It won’t be for long. We’ll be back home before you even know it,” Spencer smiled, resting his hands on my hips before kissing me again. “You’ll listen to me and Anderson, understand,” he kept his tone soft and quiet, but still held authority.

“Yeah, yeah! My life is now in his hands. I wholeheartedly trust you and Anderson,” I whispered as I kept my eyes on him. He looked down at me, his honey-like hazel eyes watching every detail on my face. Part of me wondered why he stared at me the way he did. Was he memorizing every little detail of my face, just in case something happened to me?  Nothing will happen to me, that’s the whole reason why he’s having me go to a safe house with Anderson. 

“I love you,” his voice wavered slightly with his words. It was clear he was trying to not let his emotions show, but was also obviously losing. 

“I love you too,” I smiled before pressing his lips to mine for the briefest moment.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice came from the doorway, forcing Spencer and I to part. I swallowed roughly before turning to look at the door, seeing Anderson leaning against the doorframe. “But we’re ready to go,” he looked between Spencer and me.

“I’ll see you soon,” Spencer lifted his hand to my face, gently holding my cheek in his large palm. I swallowed roughly and nodded. “And don’t forget your promise. Follow your orders, and be a good girl,” he whispered the last part so only I would hear it.

“Ye-yeah, yeah… We’ll see you soon,” I repeated what he said before kissing him one last time. As much as I didn’t want to, I stepped away from Spencer’s body and followed closely behind Anderson. The cop that was behind us held a jacket over my body to hide my identity and keep me hidden from anyone unsub. 

“We’re going to stop at your place before we go to the safehouse, so you can get some clothes, toiletries and other belongings,” Anderson looked over at me once we got settled in the car. I glanced over at him and nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” I swallowed roughly and nodded, “Will we be able to stop at a store too?” 

“Everything you should need, food and entertainment, should be at the safehouse when we arrive,” Anderson backhandedly answered my question. I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared at him.

The rest of the drive to the apartment was tense and silent. It was almost like we were in a library. Any sound or comment that was made, any breath that was breathed, felt wrong and I should be executed for it. But, that would kind of defeat the purpose of me going to this safehouse, right?

“Be quick, we only have a few minutes. We have to be on the road before dark,” Anderson looked at me as we both walked up the steps to the apartment complex. I glanced over at him and nodded lightly.

“Will do,” I nodded as I pulled out the keys and unlocked the building’s door. Anderson stayed standing outside the building, by the door, as I went inside.

The apartment that I shared with Spencer was a mess, but to be fair it was mostly Spencer’s mess. Books, papers and files scattered over any surface. And if there was an exposed surface, it was occupied by a coffee cup. At the office and on the road, Spencer is neat and organized, but at home, when his walls come down and once he’s in the zone, the organization goes out the window. Teaching tended to take a back seat; the papers that littered the room (and office and bedroom) consisted of papers he has/is supposed to grade.

I think the only organized room was our bedroom. Even though no one else ever entered that room, he always had it pristine. He knew where everything was, and if one thing was out of place or out of line, he’d know in an instant. We had come to a shared agreement that the bedroom was for bedroom activities only. If we could keep work stuff out of our room, we would. Our room was the only truly the only place we had control, hence the cleanliness and order of it.

I was quiet as I grabbed my backpack. Shoving my clothes into it, I muttered strings of profanities. Spending time in stupid safe house sounded like pure hell, absoulte boredom. Why would he think I would be okay at a safehouse? I could be useful at the office, and safer too. What’s safer than being with the team, not to mention with Spencer?

With a deep and resigned sigh, I threw the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. Anything to make Spencer happy, I suppose. I was a brat, but this didn’t seem like something to fight him on. 

I quietly exited my home and went back outside, where Anderson was still waiting. 

“Ready,” I looked over at him, feeling a fake smile grow across my lips. Anderson looked at me and nodded before taking the lead back to the cop car. I looked over at him and nodded as the car finally jerked forward and took off. 

If I thought the drive to the apartment was bad… The drive to the safehouse was worse. If I had known it was going to be a 1 hour drive, I would have fought harder. This time around, I could sense that Anderson was trying to make some sort of an effort to make me feel better about this situation. But it was clear it was a fail of an attempt too. He kept talking about the things he enjoyed rather than common interest, or small talk. Yes, Spencer could do the same, but at least his factoids were adorable or at least relevant.

I almost felt bad, because I had honestly stopped listening to everything he said. I’m not sure when I stopped listening, sometime around the time he started talking about baseball. I take back what I said about Spencer, this was far worse. I swear, I actually liked listening to Spencer ramble on and on when he info dumps. But Anderson… 

“Anderson,” I looked over at him, cutting him off as he spoke, “Please… For the love of God… I know you love baseball… But you have got to stop talking for five fucking minutes,” I took a deep breath as I stared at him. He looked back at me before closing his mouth and nodding. 

Thankfully, the rest of the drive was silent. I almost couldn’t believe how quiet it was. And, I almost couldn’t think of a time where it was silent for such a long period of time. I suppose in the moment I was thankful that things were turning out the way they were.

“Here’s your bedroom,” Anderson spoke cooly as we walked past a room. I looked over at him, feeling my exhaustion spread through my body. “Rest all you want. There’s some books that Spencer sent over that you could read. As well as movies you could watch,” he looked over at me. I looked back at him and nodded.

“I think I’ll do that… Everything that’s happened today… I’m exhausted,” I laughed nervously as I entered the room. Anderson looked at me and nodded, watching as I closed the door. I pressed my back to the door once it was shut, clicking it locked with a sigh. 

My eyes scanned across the bland room. It consisted of a bed, a night stand, a lamp, and a window. Of course, all safe houses are basically empty homes. Fake houses that looked lived in, when in reality they were nothing.

But then I looked back at the window… We were only an hour away from the apartment… Surely I could...

“Like hell I’m going stay in this stupid safe-house with Anderson,” I scoffed before rushing over to the window. I threw it open so fast I was worried I’d broken it. I didn’t have every step of my escape planned out, but I knew I had to get out of here. I knew I could think on my feet, so the spontaneity didn’t faze me.

I had to be quick as I had to make sure that Anderson didn’t clue into what I was doing. Because the second he knew that I wasn’t in the the safe house anymore, was the second Spencer knew, and then I’d be in big trouble -- worse than if the unsub were to catch me. 

“Okay, okay,” I whispered as I patted down my pockets, feeling for my phone and wallet, trusting that everything else that I needed would be in my bags. I’d be back by the end of this case. I wasn’t exactly running away, I was just getting away because this was stupid. The safest place I would have been in was with Spencer and the rest of the team. I knew that, and I knew Spencer just needed reminding that I was right.  

‘I wasn’t running away,’ I thought to myself as I looked out the window. It wasn’t a far jump. 3 yards at least. I wouldn’t get hurt by that, should I? 

I glanced over my shoulder, just making sure no one was watching me, before finally jumping out the window. I grunted when I landed on the ground. Then, I was off.

There was a coffee shop not far from the house. That was my destination. And then from there, I’d get an uber or taxi back home, or shopping, or someplace else. As long as I was away from danger, I was okay. 

I could feel a certain anxiety grow up my throat the further I got from the safe house. It wasn’t because I was afraid that I was going to get hurt. It was because of Spencer. I just wasn’t sure how he’d take to that news -- but I could take an educated guess. It was honestly a matter of time before I go-

Spencer Calling…

I stared at the screen, looking at the picture of Spencer and I at one of Rossi’s fabulous parties. I swallowed back my fear and anxiety, and took a deep breath of courage before pressing answer.

“Hel-”

“Where the hell are you!?” Spencer growled as his voice came through the speaker. Fear… Fear grew in the pit of my stomach, and it was hard to breathe. “I swear to God,”

“I’m fine! I’m safe…” I returned as my steps slowed on the sidewalk. I didn’t totally answer his question. I didn’t really want to tell him I was at a coffee shop 5 minutes away from the safe house. Because then he’d have Anderson on my ass in a second. 

“That doesn’t answer my question, and you know that,” Spencer snapped back. I froze in my tracks, my heart beating harder than I could control. “Where are you? Make me ask again and I won’t be nice,” 

“Spencer,” I started, my voice low and shaky, “I can’t tell you,” I shook my head. I could hear the breath of air that Spencer let out, and it only scared me more.

“If you’re not back at that safe house in 20 minutes, you will have the biggest punishment. Do you understand, Princess?” 

“I’ll be safe, Spencer,” I muttered. I stared at the ground for a long time as we both stayed silent. It was hard to say how long passed, but it was a while. “Bye Spencer,”

“If you hang up, I swear,” he started but I didn’t get to feel the end of it before I hung up. I swallowed roughly before continuing my trek towards the coffee shop as my phone buzzed continuously.

{***}{***}{***}

“Where were you again?” Spencer asked, just to ask. He didn’t forget. The man he is? He’d never forget. Especially something like this.

“Coffee shop and Library, I thought you would just have Garcia track me.” I mumbled as I waited for him to unlock the door. My stomach was slowly churning the longer he took to unlock the door. Although, I was okay with how slow he was. The slower he took, the longer I had before the punishment.

Spencer huffed out a breath of air and shook his head. I stared at him, watching as the door finally unlocked and was pushed open.

“Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?! How… How much danger you were in?!” Spencer shouted as we both entered the apartment. I glanced at him as I made my way to the couch.

"C'mon, I was probably safer at the library and coffee shop anyways! Bastard knew I’d go to a safe house and our apartment," I shrugged as I flopped onto the couch. Spencer looked down at me like he was the parent reprimanding their disobedient child. Granted, that’s kind of how our dynamic was when we weren’t at work or it was a normal day. I do have to admit though, I was wrong for not going where he wanted me to.

"You directly disobeyed me. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! How could you be so reckless!? You have no idea how scared I was when I heard you weren’t at the safe house,” he shouted, but as he got closer to the end of his sentence, his words got quieter and his voice cracked. I looked up at him, the feeling of guilt suddenly eating away in my stomach. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what else you want me to say or do, Spencer…” I muttered before shrugging. I glanced at him as he stood on the other side of the coffee table. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt, quietly muttering something as he went. “Spencer, look, I said I’m sorry… I’m home and I’m safe…” I watched him with anxiety bubbling in my stomach.

"You disobeyed me, put yourself in danger,," his voice was low as he stood up. I watched as he walked over. The hairs on the back of my neck were instantly standing, and I could feel goosebumps grow all over my arms. “Sorry just isn’t going to cut it,” he looked down at me. I looked up at him, and I knew exactly what he was about to do. So my next question was redundant.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I looked up at him. My heart was suddenly in my stomach as he lowered to my height. I tried to look anywhere but him, but that was hard when he placed his finger under my chin, coaxing me to look at him. I tried my hardest to not look up at him, but it was so hard to not look at him. He was right there and he was my favorite person to look at. But, to be fair, when he was mad it made me a little nervous.

"Well, you decided to go and break my instruction. And you know what happens to little girls who disobey their rules," he kept his voice low as he spoke. I dropped my gaze to my lap as he sat beside me. A shiver shot down my spine as I locked eyes with him… In that moment, I knew I was done for...  

"Wait, Spencer," I exclaimed as he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me so I was lying across his lap. I lifted my head and looked up at him with wide eyes “Spencer! Spencer! Wait! Please!” I struggled as I squirmed in his lap. I wanted so badly to just slide out of his arms, but the way he held me made it damn near impossible to slide away from him.

“I’ve asked for an explanation and you didn’t provide one,” he spoke cooly. He kept his hands on my back, and not going any lower than my hips. I took a moment, struggling to breathe as I thought of why I left the safe house and Anderson. 

“I was just bored, okay? I was bored. And thought it was stupid that you had me leave the office and the team to go to a safe house,” I tried to wiggle from his grip again, but failed when his hold on me tightened. I swallowed roughly, hoping my truth telling would work, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t.

“Is this the truth?” Spencer asked, his tone somewhat overly nice. I bit my lips together and nodded lightly.

“It’s the truth, I swear, Spencer, it’s the truth,” I whispered. I knew telling the truth would lessen the harshness of his punishment. And, maybe it would. He does know when to be gentle.

“I’m happy you gave me the truth. But that still doesn’t mean it was okay to disobey me, you know that, don’t you Princess?” he whispered as he brushed down my hair. I let out a deep sigh before reluctantly nodding. 

“I know,” It was inevitable at this point. I owned up to my mistake, and now I need to own up to the punishment. And I knew exactly what was going to happen. 

“I’ll go easy on you, okay?” He kept his voice low. He knew if his voice was any louder, I’d instantly back away from all of this. “I think ten strikes is appropriate... Do you agree?” 

I would rather have less, and Spencer knew that too.  But if I argued he’d only add more. Which was worse than the ten he already offered. I knew that after he’d be okay and it’d be over with.  Fuck, I already wanted it to be over.

“Yes, sir,” I sighed deeply. I lifted my hips enough for him to pull my pants down over my bottom. My chest tightened as I tried to take a deep, shaky breath as I anticipated the first strike. 

My ears could just barely pick up the soft rush of air from Spencer’s hand before it landed hard against my bottom. I took a sharp breath of air and dropped my head down to the cushion.

“One…” I whispered as my hands gripped his pants tightly. I swallowed roughly as I tried to steady my breathing. Spencer gave me a moment to breathe before giving me two and three in a quick go. Four came after a brief moment. But then… Five was when it started getting shaky for me. Tears had started rolling on my face between three and four, but it didn’t start becoming trouble till five.

“Five! I understand! I swear! I’m sorry!” I cried out once his hand connected hard with my ass for the 5th time. And, okay, that one hurt, like a lot. I couldn’t tell if it was the sting that hurt, or the repeated assault on the sore spot… But I knew it hurt. With each strike, I could almost feel Spencer’s anger and anxiety. I definitely felt bad about doing what I did.

I don’t know if I’ll make it to ten...

“Just five more,” Spencer spoke softly as his hand carefully massaged my butt-cheek. I could tell he started feeling bad. But, we both knew he had to follow through with it. 

His hand whizzed through the air and smacked against my ass. A loud crack came through the air, and a sharp gasp fell from my lips. And, that was it. I definitely don’t think I’ll make it to ten. This was it. 

“Buttercup!” I shouted as my eyes snapped open. I could still feel the tears burning down my cheeks. Before Spencer could make contact for the 7th time, he stopped. He kept both his hands away from my body as I moved away from him. With that, we were both silent for a minute, as I tried to recalibrate my breathing. 

Spencer looked over at me, sensing his sudden change in demeanor. His anger and anxiety was gone and replaced with a guilty panic. The atmosphere changed.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked after a minute had passed. I was, painfully, sitting on the next cushion away from him. I needed my space. I bit my lips and nodded as I roughly wiped my cheeks. 

“I’m okay,” I whispered looking back at him. I watched as he slowly lifted his hands, offering both of them for me to hold. I stared at them for a while before just falling into his sigh, a shaky breath, almost a sob, going through my body.

“I got you; you’re ok, you’re safe. I was so worried. You have to understand how dangerous it was for you to just leave like that. I thought I was never going to see you again,” Spencer whispered, bringing a hand to run over my hair. I bit my lips and nodded.

“No, I know… I’m sorry for… I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I don’t even know… I should have just stayed at the safe house,” I whispered as I pressed my face into his shoulder. I felt as he let out a deep sigh and wrapped his arms around me, resting and hand on my lower back. 

I was happy he didn’t mention how I told him the truth a little bit ago. My body could feel the exhaustion from the whole day. It wasn’t just the punishment, or the little bit of arguing, or even the running away. It was everything combined. I needed sleep soon. Spencer knew that too.

“Why don’t we go into our room and cuddle,” he whispered as he continued stroking my hair. I sniffled lightly before laughing. Just like he was reading my mind. He knows me better than anyone. “I just want you safe in my arms.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’d like that a lot, actually,” I looked up at him. Spencer smiled at me before lightly pressing his lips to mine. 

if you want to be a part of a taglst or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto, @thebluetint

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

[geekwritersworld]

Then stay

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

warning : it’s long

Summary: Isaiah Jesus’s sister comes to small heath, and falls for Finn .

A/n: Firstly, @marvel-is-a-mood​ thank you so much for the idea 💖secondly, I am sooo sorry it took me so long to write and post this fic.

Everyone in Birmingham knew Isaiah Jesus as the blinder, Finn Shelby’s friend and the son of the preacher. 

And though Isaiah rarely ever spoke of her, small heath also knew he had a sister. But no one had seen her. She’d lived in London with her aunt her whole life. It was the safest decision for her , given her father and brothers involvement with the London gangsters.

Jeremiah and Isaiah visited her every few months, which again kept her out of Birmingham. 

But she’d decided to venture out on her own, for once. She decided to go visit her brother and father. Plus, a bit of change would do her good.

Heads turned and men whistled at the young woman who was clearly new to town. But she paid them no heed and continued walking towards the infamous pub she’d heard so much about from her brother. 

she slowly opened the door to the pub, the only light in there seemed to be from the sunlight outside, creeping in through the window.

“we don’t serve women” a man behind the counter eyed her curiously. His statement wasn’t harsh, it was more precautionary.

“no harry, but I do” a blonde woman said softly,  appearing from the storage room behind him. Her Irish accent instantly assured the young woman that the barmaid wasn’t from Birmingham. 

the older bartender sighed, turning around and continuing to wipe a glass.

“What can I get you?”

“gin , thank you”

“bit early isn’t it for plain gin?” she smiled, pouring some.

“well I’ve had a rather exhausting start to my day” 

“I'm grace”

“I'm  Anna, usually don’t go by a full name, but its anna Jesus if you will.” she raised her glass to her lips

“Jesus, as in Jeremiah Jesus’s daughter?” Grace inquired

“yes, have you seen him? or my brother Isaiah. I'm here to see them.”

something about the Irish barmaid didn’t sit right with Anna. She downed her gin in a go, clearing her throat at the burn .

“your brothers at the betting shop down the street.” Grace called after the woman making her way out.

*

She eyed the shops carefully while trying to find the betting shops. Once she did, she opened the door and stepped inside. “She’s in the wrong place isn’t she?” a man snickered somewhere. 

Anna turned her head towards the man, her eyebrows furrowing. But before she got a word out, a woman with short hair and a black coat walked towards her “you’re not here to bet are you?” cigarette dangling between her thin fingers.

“I- No , I’m looking for my brother “ she eyed the entire shop, trying to find her brother” a barmaid at the garrison told me he was here” a small panic had risen in her. Anna was starting to regret making the decision of looking for her brother and father. The faces of the many men staring at her , was making her beyond uncomfortable.

“who are you?” the woman inquired, she had a motherly look in her eyes, that was the only thing that calmed Anna’s nerves slightly.

“anna, Anna Jesus”

“course you are, come along ”she placed the cigarette between her lips “don’t worry boys, she’s no threat” the men instantly lowered their gazes and continued to holler numbers.

“um, who are you?” Anna asked following after the woman.

“I’m Polly, dear. Aunt Polly to 5 fucking nuisances”

towards the back of the shop, Anna saw her brother talking to a boy who seemed to be a few years younger. Maybe just by 2 or 3 years.

“Isaiah” she gasped, walking quickly to the boy who looked her way surprised.

“Anna” he walked to her and hugged her. He hugged her tight , and just didn’t let go for a few minutes.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he let go . His question was more , again one filled with worry rather than anger. Which made Anna curious as to what went on in small heath that she was being sent silent warnings?

“I decided to come and visit you and Dad , instead of the other way around. plus i needed a bit of a fucking change” 

The boy Isaiah had been talking to cleared his throat. 

“right, Anna this is Finn Shelby, Finn this is my sister Anna” Isaiah introduced Anna to the boy who was starting to blush.

“nice to meet you , Finn” Anna couldn’t help but stare at Finn’s eyes. There was some sort of innocence in them , that seemed to draw her attention.

“Yeah, you too” he looked away.

“Right, Finn stay away from her, Anna , you come with me "Isaiah rolled his eyes.

“why the fuck’s everyone giving me these piteous looks?” Anna muttered walking next to her older brother.

“because this is small heath. Come on, dad’s over there”

Jeremiah Jesus had just walked out of what looked to be the main office, upon looking up, he saw his daughter walking towards him with her brother.

“anna?’ he walked to her.

“hi” she sprang and hugged him. The men in the shop paid the small family reunion no attention.

He watched the way she smiled and laughed while catching up with her father. Finn couldn’t help stare at the young woman he just met. He found it fascinating that she just walked into the betting shop without even knowing she was amongst a bunch of gangsters. She felt uncomfortable, he saw it on her face the moment he saw her behind Polly, but she’d come in further just to look for her brother.

He wanted to get to know her better, but Isaiah’s warning lingered in the back of his head.

******

“Alright, just come find me at least before going anywhere” Isaiah argued with his younger sister in their small home.

“Why , ‘saiah ?” Anna groaned.

“Alright look, don’t tell our father i told you, but small heath , its a fucking dangerous place alright. We-we’re involved in something and it could be dangerous for you”

“what the fuck are you talking about? involved in what?”

“Just this betting business can get quite out of hand at times , alright.”

“Alright, i wont go anywhere without letting you know-” “thank you” Isaiah rolled his eyes .

“let me finish saiah” Anna grumbled “ i won’t go anywhere without telling you , as long as you let me get to know Finn”

No sooner had Anna finished her sentence , had Isaiah sprang up from the chair, where he had sprawled out.

“what the fuck? why, No , I- his brother Tommy Shelby will kill you” Isaiah tried to fib his way. But he wasn’t one to lie and so naturally he failed miserably.

“Why the fuck will I kill your sister Isaiah ,eh?"

 Tommy Shelby’s figure loomed in the doorway. Of course no one had heard the London gangster walk in.

“I- Fuck sake. Anna that's Tommy” Isaiah didn’t bother telling Tommy this was Anna since eh clearly knew already.

“Um- Hello, Mr. Shelby.” Anna said awkwardly. she didn’t know the man, and on any other occasions he would’ve panicked had a random man walked in unheard, but since Isaiah seemed to know the man she was alright with it.

“Right, Isaiah, Telling your father we need him at the shop tonight. We’ve got some work.” His blue eyes turned to Isaiah, who had taken a seat on the counter. 

“Am I required to be there as well ?” he asked

“Why, have you got somewhere important to be for once , eh?” Tommy raised his eyebrow.

Anna snickered from her spot at the table .

“Fuck off Anna, and Tommy, well someone’s got to keep an eye on Anna, can’t be leaving her alone “

“Well I'm fucking sure Finn’s free” Tommy turned on his heels walking out.

Isaiah looked at Anna’s smug smile. ”fuck sake”

*******

Anna had now been at small heath for two months. The day when she would go back to London had come sooner than expected.. Anna had become quite close to Polly, Ada and Esme. Tommy was supposed to marry Grace the following afternoon . And though no one would tell Anna the details, she’d figured out that the woman had fucked up and yet Tommy was still going to marry her. But Anna never pressed for answers , knowing it wasn’t her place.

But Anna never really found herself wondering about grace anyway. Her mind was occupied by someone else. Someone who she’d grown extremely close to.

She and Finn had become close, too close for Isaiah’s liking. She found herself daydreaming of the youngest Shelby brother almost everyday. And the only time she didn’t daydream of him , was when she was with him. She had started to fall for him soon after she met him that day 2 months ago. 

She’d watch him from far while he talked to Isaiah, when he rode on his horse , Anna would find herself smiling at the look on his face.

“Anna!” She jerked up from her spot on the couch, looking up at Finn .

“Yeah” she attempted to act as though she wasn’t daydreaming of the boy standing in front of her.

“I asked you if you were ready to leave?” he laughed.

“yeah” she got up , grabbing her coat ‘so when’s the wedding starting?” She called after him, jogging to keep up her pace with him.

“In about an hour” He opened the door to the passenger side of the car.

“we’re going in one?” Anna asked. her stomach becoming a knot of nerves and butterflies at the same time.

“yeah, Isaiah had to leave slightly early with your father since Tommy needed them there earlier. Your brother looked fucking daggers at me for some reason at that”

“That’s Isaiah I suppose” Anna knew why. Isaiah had figured out that she liked Finn a month ago, the only reason he didn’t kill Finn was because he knew Finn was a good person, and he’d never say it loud , but a part of him was relieved that it was Finn his sister had taken a liking to. Rather Finn than any other boy.

On the car ride to the wedding hall, Finn had looked at Anna multiple times from the corner of his eye. He turned a few times to look at the way her hair blew back slightly because of the wind. 

She’d looked absolutely gorgeous in the maroon dress she’d worn for his brother’s wedding, and it took every bit of an effort for him to not blurt out and tell the young woman he was in love with her.

He helped her step out of the car , and walked behind her into the hall. She’d seen Esme and walked off to her. 

“are you ever going to tell her you like her or are you just going to fucking pine over her until she’s left?” Polly asked him, blowing out smoke from the cigarette.

“And why would you think she likes me back?” Finn asked his aunt.

“Because I'm fucking Aunt Polly. If you don’t tell her soon Finn, You’ll lose her” she said and walked away. Typical Aunt Pol.

**

After the wedding, at the dinner, the guests found themselves waiting patiently; The groom and bride were running late. Everyone at the table knew why but no one said anything.

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Anna leaned towards Finn’s ears and whispered “ hours or minutes?” she laughed.

Finn snorted his drink. Coughing and wiping his mouth.

“minutes apparently” he said gesturing his head towards the doorway, where Tommy and Grace had just entered.

Finn and Anna looked at each other and burst out laughing, earning some unimpressed looks from Polly and Ada, but John and Arthur on the other hand had smirks on their faces ,knowing exactly what the two were on about.

Soon one by one, after dinner was deemed over, each guest made their way to the large hall at Arrow house. 

Except Anna. She found herself forcing laughter and smiles halfway through dinner. Since, she’d in realized she’d be leaving for London in a day. She kept herself from tearing up every time she glanced at Finn during dinner. And so when everyone walked towards the hall, she walked outside, to get some air.

Looking up, Anna blinked away the tears. How she’d go back to living a normal life after having met Finn Shelby and fallen for him, she’d never know.

“I needed to talk to you but couldn’t find you inside” Anna whirled around.

“Finn, yeah, I needed a few minutes, there’s too many people in there” sshe gave a small laugh.

“Can I, can I , uh, tell you something?” Finn looked her in the eyes.

His breathe seemed to be caught in his throat, he could hear his heart beat in his ears , silencing the rest of the world, his hands got clumpy from sweat  and his ears were starting turn hot.

“Sure” Anna looked at him in a way that made Finn’s heart burst in pure adoration.

“I didn’t really know what it was, yeah, at first. But , um, I realized that-that I love you” he blurted out he las part. His eyes widening because he meant to say he liked her, he was terrified now, that he’d scared Anna away , by telling her he loved her. His heart dropped when he saw Anna’s eyes widening.

“I mean I-” but whatever it was that he meant to say next got muffled by Anna’s lips on his. His heart pounding, his hands made their way to the back of Anna’s head.

She felt as though they were the only two in the entire universe, in that moment. She couldn’t think of anyone else besides him. His hands . his lips and his hands.

He touched every part of her soul with that one kiss. 

“Finn , I love you too” she held back her tears “ But I’m leaving tomorrow for London. And I’m not quite sure when I’ll be back, that’s if I come back” she looked at him with tears in her eyes, he kissed her forehead.

“stay, for me” 

#finn shelby #finn shelby x you #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby fluff #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus x sister #anna jesus #finn shelby x anna #finn shelby x y/n

[nony-bear]

Mission Birthday (Steve Oneshot)

This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY.

Gif By: @zimski-vojnik // Dividers Found Here

Parings: Steve X Reader

Warnings: Kissing (I don’t know if that needs a warning but just incase.)  

Word Count: 1779

Summary: It’s your boyfriends birthday... the only problem is, he didn’t tell you. 

A/N: Hi everyone! I know it’s been a hot second since I’ve posted any actual writing, but I finally was able to write this request I got a while back! I think I like how it ended up turning out even though it’s on the shorter side for a oneshot, but anyways, I hope I did an okay job, and everyone likes it! As always, thank you all for your support and everything. You all are truly amazing, and I can’t express how grateful I am for everything. My inbox is always open and has anonymous mode available, so please feel free to drop in anytime about literally anything (even requests!) I’d love to hear from you all!

Sitting at the kitchen table at the Avengers compound, you sip your coffee carefully, trying not to burn your mouth but still get a taste of that magical caffeine. Nat is sitting across from filling out some mission reports while eating her breakfast, Bruce is next to her reading some physics thesis, and Bucky is over at the stove cooking up some eggs. While making himself some breakfast, Bucky chats with you about work and the weather and other normal stuff. The conversation is by no means awkward, but your brain is still waking up, not used to being up this early. Usually, after your boyfriend (and fellow avenger) Steveleaves in the morning for his workout session giving you a soft kiss goodbye, you fall right back to sleep. But this morning was different. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, you couldn’t sleep. There was this weird nagging feeling in the back of your head that you were missing something. Still, you were sure that you didn’t have any meetings except for a quick one this afternoon, and besides that, you had the day completely free. But you still couldn’t shake it, so instead, you got up and dragged yourself out into the common area.

“So, what are you and Steve doing tonight?” Bucky asks, walking over to the table with his plate in hand.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Not sure, probably just go catch fireworks somewhere. Why do you have plans?”

In the midst of hungrily shoveling the food in his mouth, he looks up at you, confused. “But it’s -”

You chuckle at him a little, looking shocked before answering the question for him. “Buck, I know it used to be really big when you and Steve were young, but usually people now only do like cookouts and fireworks. Independence Day just isn’t as big of a deal.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know…” He says, dropping the fork on the table making a clinking sound that causes Nat and Bruce to look up at him in just as much confusion as you.

With a nervous laugh, you look between him and the others. “What don’t I know?”

“Nope, nothing,” Buck announces, his demeanor changing suddenly, before standing up and walking back towards the counters in the kitchen.

You’re suddenly much more awake and quick on your feet, following after him. “You can’t just not tell me now!” You say, grabbing his arm lightly as if you could really ever actually restrain his movements.

“You obviously don’t know for a reason, so I’m not going to be the one that tells you.” He laughs, using his hand to push your head, and subsequently, your body away from him playfully.

“Nat! Bruce!” You whine, looking at them for help.

Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses. “You know she isn’t going to leave you alone until you tell her.”

Bucky huffs in annoyance, knowing how persistent you can be. “Okay fine, but you can’t tell him I told you…”

Your heart starts beating faster; you figured it was something about Steve, but now you’re worried, what if this is something serious. “I promise.” You tell him before taking a deep breath in.

“Today is Steve’s birthday.” He says cautiously.

“What?!” You, Nat, and Bruce all say at once.

Bucky puts down his plate and rubs his hands over his face frustratedly. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill him first!” You say immediately. “I can believe he didn’t tell me! I’ve been trying to get it out of him for months! He said he didn’t want me trying to analyze his birth chart, said his mom thought that kind of stuff was for witches.” Bruce shrugs with a chuckle, and Nat swats him with her papers.

“Y/n, please, don’t make a big deal about today. Steve doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. He hates it, actually,” Bucky explains, glancing at the doorways worried Steve may walk in at any moment.

You shake your head and put your hands on your hips, confused. “But why? Obviously, the astrology thing wasn’t true.”

“I mean, that does sound like something his mom would have said, but still, Steve just doesn’t like being the center of attention, didn’t want you to go to the trouble probably.” Bucky shrugs. “Now, speaking of trouble… don’t get me in it.”

After talking to Bucky, you tried not to dwell on the fact that it is your boyfriend’s birthday, and you literally have nothing prepared. But that quickly proved to be impossible. So mission Birthday commenced.

You got yourself ready as quickly as possible to avoid Steve on his way back from the gym before his meetings and then ran out into town. You picked up everything you would need; decorations, food, some cupcakes, and of course, his gift. You had reserved this present for your anniversary, only three months away, but with this new information, you couldn’t help yourself.

Making sure to discreetly slip back into the compound after Steve had already left for his meetings and drop everything off before attending a meeting of your own. Thankfully it was short and sweet, and you were able to dash back to your shared suite in no time.

You set up everything perfectly. Simple blue streamers on the ceiling, a few silver balloons here and there, and his go-to order from his favorite take-out spot and cute little cupcakes from a local bakery presented nicely on the delicately set table, while the gift rests hidden in your bag for later.

Having a bit of time left, you put on one of his favorite records, lit some candles, and changed into one of his favorites of your dresses. You are finishing up fixing up your hair when you hear the jiggle of the knob on the front door.

“Uh, baby? Are you in there? Did you lock the door?” The confused man calls out to you from the other side of the door. Considering the Avengers Compound is one of the secure and safest places in the entire world, you tended to rarely keep the doors locked.

Giggling, you rush over and smooth your dress out one last time before unlocking the door and opening it slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for someone. Can I help you?” You tease him trying not to open the door too wide, and let him see in.

“What’s going on with you, my little minx? Let me in.” He chuckles, confused, trying to wrap a hand around your waist to move you.

You follow his lead and move to the side. Once he enters the room, you close the door before coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know your secret.” You say softly, unable to contain your giddy smile.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all of this…” He sighs, turning in your arms to get a better look at you. “You didn’t have to go to all the trouble just for me.”

You shake your head and frown. “Steve, it’s no trouble at all. I love you, and you deserve to be celebrated. I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”

His features soften as he leans down and kisses you wiping the frown off your face. “I love you so much…. And thank you, I’m sorry for not telling you, even though I would have been just fine with leftovers and going to see the fireworks tonight.” He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still go see the fireworks tonight still, but after dinner, now come eat.”

Steve and you talk over dinner, enjoying the quality time together, and him continually thanking you and telling you that you didn’t have to do all this for him.

After eating, you pull him out of his seat and head towards the garage. You ignore his repeated questions about where you are going, simply telling him to be patient. About fifteen minutes later, you pull over to the side of the road and get out of the car, Steve following closely behind.

Still asking you a million questions, you lead him out to a field where you can see a handful of people in the distance setting something up.

“Baby, what the hell are we doing out here?” He asks you, confused and starting to get nervous that you guys may be trespassing.

“Wanted you to have the best seats in the house.” You say, making Steve connect the dots that the men in the distance must be setting up the annual fireworks. “Now sit so I can give you your present.” You laugh, pulling him down to the grass with you.

“A present, really baby? I swear you really -”

“Didn’t have to do this, I know, I know.” You cut him off while pulling the small wrapped object out of your bag and handing it to him. “I wanted to. Steve, really, I love you; I couldn’t let your birthday be just another day. You deserve better than that.”

Steve stops trying to argue and leans forward, kissing your forehead lovingly before taking the gift from you. Carefully he unwraps the simple blue paper revealing the clear box containing an old dirty baseball with tiny letters scrawled across it in blue ink.

“I know how you always said you wish you could have played baseball as a kid and how you and bucky would always try to go catch foul balls at the Yankees games but never did. So I got one for you, even got the player you liked from all the way back then…” You explain nervously, hoping he’d like it as much as you thought he would.

“This is an amazing baby. I don’t even know what to say. Just thank you, so, so much.” He says, closely examining the ball until he looks up to you, pulling you in close for a hug and a kiss.

You smile at his happiness, proud that he liked the gift. “Happy Birthday, old man.” You giggle teasingly.

He chuckles, giving you an eye roll.“Can’t even be mad at you. You have made this the best birthday ever.”

Soon the two of you cuddle up close with your back against his front and his arms wrapped around you, leaning up against one of the trees bordering the field. Waiting for the fireworks to begin, a comfortable silence falls over you both while he presses soft kisses to your cheek, and you play with the fingers of his that is held by yours. And as you lie there together, Steve thinks of why exactly he didn’t like his birthday, but suddenly he can’t remember.

Taglist: @angrybirdcr // @cloudystevie // @dadplease // @doozywoozy // @patzammit // @selfcarecap // @steebsbabygirl​ // @velvetcardiganbucky​​ // @worksby-d​

If you would like to be a part of my taglist for future writing, let me know! (If you would like to be tagged for only certain characters and/or only specific types of writing (like only fluff or only smut), I can do that too!)

#steve #Steve rogers #captain america #marvel #avengers #sfw #fluff #Steve fluff #Steve Rogers fluff #captain america fluff #marvel fluff #avengers fluff #mcu #mcu fluff #Chris Evans characters #cevans characters #avengers imagines #mcu imagines #marvel imgaines #marvel oneshots #mcu oneshots #avengers oneshots #steve oneshot #Steve Rogers oneshot #captain america oneshot #fanfiction #Steve fanfiction #Steve Rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Pls could you do a Bad Ben x reader?

Why I Hate Bellwood 

Pairing: (Bad) Ben Tennyson x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault and harassment themes

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You don’t think there’s anything redeemable or good about Ben Tennyson until he saves you from a dangerous situation.

You hated living in Bellwood. It was the worst place to be and you couldn’t even imagine how it was a functioning city. It was a town rampant with criminals and villains. In a place where the crime rate not only sky-rocketed each week but also where no one gave any damn to change it.

They even had their own super-powered thief. Of course.

Coincidentally, the town you hated the most also happened to be the place where you were transferred to. Maybe it was because your supervisor wanted to send the most capable and competent student there. Or maybe it was because you ran your mouth and chewed out her daughter (who had a severe case of princess syndrome).

You and your big mouth.

You had a small studio apartment that could barely fit a bed and that made you feel claustrophobic. Even though you wanted a bigger place, this was the only apartment you could find that was in your price range and in the safer parts of town. Relatively speaking.

Even though you made a conscious effort to stay out of trouble, it seemed to present itself to you on a silver platter. Or more accurately, a stolen silver platter. The trouble you were talking about was Ben Tennyson himself, the friendly neighbourhood criminal.

It was absurd to think that a boy your age could have his entire town at his mercy because of a fancy watch but it was true. He was terrifying, and more importantly, unstoppable. So, you tried your hardest to stay out of his sight, and out of his way.

Unfortunately, that seemed like it wouldn’t happen either. Not even a week after you had moved, you had found out that the crazy crime lord that you had been trying to avoid was living in the apartment next to yours. And not only were you neighbours, but you could see right into his room through the window.

Not like you tried. You had been too afraid to even open the window.

How could this be the safest place in town if this maniac was living right across from you?

Although when you asked the other women in the building, they had told you that was the whole point. Ben Tennyson was a ruthless maniac and known criminal. That’s why no sane person would come into a mile of his home.

All they had to do was avoid him like the plague and so would the other criminals.

And in the psychotic, irrational fashion that was accustomed to Bellwood, that actually made sense. And knowing that Ben was living right across from you was a sign of extreme comfort but also fear.

Would he kill you if you snored too loudly in the night? Or if you kept the lights on in the night and disturbed him?

The fear you had made you want to fall beneath his radar and go completely unnoticed by him. You would stay out of his sight and completely out of his life until you completed your work and could return home.

That had been the plan.

Until one day you had been returning from your classes a little later than usual. It was already dark out and there were fewer cars out on the roads. Walking through the streets alone made an eery feeling settle in your veins and you pumped your legs faster, breaking out into a run.

Just as the busy intersection came into your sights, somebody stepped in front of you and you stopped instinctively. Even though you shouldn’t have. It was a broad man, who had tattoos covering his arms up until his neck. He grinned widely at you, but it was a sick smile that made you gulp and back away.

You didn’t take your eyes off him, scared that he was going to make a sudden move. But just as you began backing away, you collided into someone and when you turned around, ice settled in your veins to see another man smirking at you.

You were immediately frozen in fear, breaths shortening in your chest when his hands came towards you. You wanted to run away from there. But they seemed to realize what your plan was.

They grabbed you, hands digging painfully into your arms and you yelped, resisting in their grip.

“Oh, now sweetheart, don’t fight, it’s not gonna be fun for you if you do.”

Tears started burning your eyes and panic burned through your chest, “Let—Let me go.”

They didn’t reply, only chuckling in response but their grip got tighter when you started thrashing. Your mind went blank, reducing to instincts and you began screaming as tears escaped your eyes.

The men’s faces hardened and they started dragging you with them, not fazed by your rapid kicking and squeezing your throat when you started screaming and crying again.

You had never been so scared in your entire life. They got closer to a dark alley and your breaths shortened, crying out and begging against the hand slapped over your mouth but they didn’t hear or they didn’t care.

Just as they pulled you into the shadows of the alley, there was a bright flash of light from its depths. Your eyes burned from the brightness but you still didn’t close them, scared that something would happen in the second you did.

Because you kept them peeled open, you were able to make out the silhouette of some creature before the light faded. It moved too quickly for your eyes to process, especially in your state of fear, but in a second, the pressure of the men pressed to your front and back had disappeared.

The figures were knocked over like small boys and you heard the sounds of their grunts. Even though you felt immense relief, you were still frozen. You didn’t even bother moving from your place when the creature came to stand in front of you.

“Who the fuck dares to mess with us.” One of them growled, standing up. You couldn’t see anything in the dark and you just chose to grip tightly onto the straps on your back, clenching your jaw tightly.

The bright light came back and you glanced up to see the figure get reduced to a boy. He held up his watch, it glowing in the night and you finally saw his face. He was glaring darkly at the men, lips turned in a frightening scowl.

“Who the fuck dares to mess with a defenceless woman.” He spat and they froze, realizing who they were talking to.

“Holy shit, it’s Ben Tennyson.”

He glared at them, seeing the way they were turned, probably about to make a break for it, “If you even think of running, I will hunt you down like the dogs you are.”

He then turned to you, holding up the watch to your face. You finally got a good look at his face, dark hair and deep green eyes. His face was innocent and charming, even though you knew he was rougher around the edges. Even then, he looked safe, like he’d protect you.

You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks, your clothes were dishevelled and your hair because of the way they yanked it.

Ben’s jaw tightened, noting the way you were still sobbing quietly into your hand but when his eyes handed on the bruises around your neck, you saw the unadulterated rage that boiled over on his face.

He turned into another alien, pinning the two men against the wall by their necks. They choked, gasping for the breath that got knocked out of them but Ben didn’t care, his grip only got tighter when they started begging.

“You didn’t hear her when she was crying? You didn’t stop when she was in pain? Then why the fuck should I?” He spat and you felt mixed emotions. For a second, you were relieved and flattered he was sticking up for you. And then you were reminded of the way these men were overpowering you mere minutes before.

Even though you didn’t have a reason to be afraid now, the terror still returned and your knees buckled, sending you to the ground as a choked sob left your lips.

Ben glanced back at you, eyes softening just for a second before he turned back to the monsters that were left at his mercy. They cowered at his gaze and tried mangling out some pleas through the grip he had on their throats but he felt disgusted to even be touching them.

“If you even touch another woman like that in my town, I will rip your fingers off and feed them to you. The only reason I’m letting you go is so that you can spread the word to other lowlifes like you.” He spoke lowly, loosening his grip and they fell to the floor, nodding and apologizing.

They tried to come closer to you, to apologize but you cowered, backing away with a whimper and Ben growled at them before pointing at you, “Her especially. If I ever see you within 50 feet of her, I won’t be so kind.”

They nodded wordlessly before running away, tails tucked between their legs and only when the sound of their footsteps completely disappeared were you finally able to breath.

Ben gently knelt in front of you. He made no move to touch you, only watching as you lifted your head to meet his eyes and your chest cleared. You felt unbelievable relief looking at him.

Before you could control yourself, you started sobbing uncontrollably, launching yourself into his arms and throwing yours around his neck. He stiffened for a minute before relaxing, gently holding your body against his, knowing that you just needed to be comforted.

Eventually, your cries lulled down and you were left feeling exhausted, but he still didn’t let go.

“I thought you were supposed to be the bad guy?” You asked breathlessly and he smirked at you.

“I am, but I have some class. Touching someone against their consent is beneath me.” He said it with so much disgust in his voice that you believed him. You always thought he was just like them, a lowlife and mangy criminal, but looking at him now, he was much more honourable than you realized.

“Come on, I wanna get back home.”

Even though he was holding out his hand for you to take, you still couldn’t move from your place on the floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. You thought he was supposed to be a criminal. Why was he being so good to you?

“Ask me something.” He said suddenly and you flinched. Ben looked down at you and pursed his lips. He knew you needed to get your mind off whatever just happened.

“What?”

“I’m giving you permission to ask me something. Anything. You’re getting a really rare chance here.”

Of course, a million and one questions were going through your head. Why did he help you? Was he really a bad guy? Was he a misunderstood person? Like Robin Hood?

Even with so many thoughts rushing through your head, when you opened your mouth, the only thing that slipped out was, “Is it true you walk around in your apartment without your shirt?”

You had heard about it from the girl who lived in the apartment before you and had been too scared to look out the window to prove her right or wrong. You don’t know why you were so curious about it, just because you wondered whether he was comfortable enough to roam around without his shirt on or whether he really didn’t care.

Ben smirked at you, “Why? Interested in the view?”

Your face went red, “No, I just heard it from someone.”

“My hand is getting tired.”

You looked at his hand again, still held out for you to take. Gingerly, you slipped your palm into his and he held onto your hand firmly, pulling you to your feet. You were still tense, looking around suspiciously and huddling a little closer to him.

“Let’s go, no one’s gonna be stupid enough to come near you while I’m here.”

“I can trust you right?”

He sent you a smirk that made you uneasy and flustered at the same time, “At your own risk.”

Looking down at your intertwined hands, you figured you might just take it.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

#Ben tennyson x reader #Ben tennyson imagines #Ben 10 x reader #Ben 10 #ben 10 original series #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 uaf #ben 10 alien force #Ben 10 af #Ben tennyson headcanon #Alternate ben #Bad ben x reader #ben 10 omniverse #ben tua #ben ten alien force #ben ten omniverse #ben ten ultimate alien #ben tennyson

[justcourttee]

Can you do one where all the Wayne’s meet marinette before knowing she’s dating Damian and something happened to her parents and Bruce already has the adoption papers and damiens like no father u can’t adopt my gf

This is so cute and was so much fun to write. Hope this is something like what you had in mind :) @leagrey

Family Dinner

“I would like to apologize in advance. Father and his feral mistakes are very lively people and I fear they will take too much of a liking to you. If it is at all uncomforting, just squeeze my hand and we will leave.”

Marinette glanced over as Damian stared menacingly at the oak doors in front of them. It had only been a year since she had met him, but he had never once mentioned the idea of her meeting his family. Maybe it was because he knew today was special and he knew that meeting them was her only request of him for the longest time.

“Do you feel uncomfortable Damian? If so, please don’t put yourself in this position because of me.”

“Tt, utter nonsense. Me? Uneasy? Now you are just babbling.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at the sight of the red threatening to overtake his cheeks.

“Well then, I guess there is no point in standing outside all day huh?”

Before her fist even made contact with the door, it flung open. Several curious faces piled in the doorframe, all trying to get a good look at her in case Damian changed his mind in an instant.

“You idiots, back up now or I’m leaving with her.”

A mutter of apologies echoed through the door as Marinette bit back the chuckle. With a great sigh, Damian motioned for her to step through the entrance, his tense body signaling that he was already ready to throw in the towel.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you all, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Her half-wave seemed to send a shock wave through the room as all eyes narrowed in on her, watching her every movement. Cautiously, she lowered her hand. A moment of silence passed and then two. Everyone seemed locked onto her, unsure of what to say and if she was being honest, she had the slightest idea as well.

“Are you all crowding her? Shameful. I thought I told you to wait in the dining room.”

It was as if the heavens had parted and uttered a command. Several bodies darted in different directions and in seconds, the hallway had been cleared save for Marinette, Damian, and an older man with graying hair and a killer smile on his face.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, we are truly honored that Master Damian has allowed you to grace us with your presence for dinner this evening. I apologize for Master Bruce’s charges. They really are all excellent kids, but rare elements such as yourself tend to erase their minds of any manners I worked so hard to instill in them.”

He shook his head in mock disappointment as he offered her his hand.

“Oh please, don’t worry about it, Mr. Alfred. I’m sure they were just as excited as I was.”

Taking his hand, she did her best to give a strong shake. His warm smile seemed so inviting, but the thought that he could clear a room with just a sentence shook her to her core.

“Please, just Alfred is fine. May I escort you to the dining room?”

Marinette nodded as she blindly reached backward for Damian’s hand to drag him along. If the butler had noticed, he made no comment as he led them.

“And here we are, I will return shortly with the first course for tonight. I do hope you enjoy the meal. I have prepared special platers for you and Master Damian to commandeer for your dietary restrictions.”

Before she even had the chance to thank him, he whisked away, leaving her to stand by Damian’s side in front of the largest dining room table she had ever seen.

“Welcome.”

Her eyes darted to the head of the table where a dashing man stood, his eyes kind and welcoming as he motioned to the two empty seats beside him. It all felt so overwhelming, too many sets of eyes for her to count were plastered on her alone. Shuffling along, she managed a small curtsey to the man before allowing Damian to help her into her seat.

A small murmur erupted from the dining room table. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps she had set herself up at the table, but Damian just got so flustered about those sorts of things, insisting he wanted to be a proper gentleman.

“I’ve heard very little about you Ms. Dupain-Cheng, but the little I have been able to wrestle out of my son has been nothing short of blessings.”

Marinette was sure her face was burning as she muttered a small thanks.

“I apologize for the huge turnout. When I mentioned to my oldest that Damian was bringing a friend home for dinner, it seems word spread fast. They all wanted to meet the person who managed to break through to him that wasn’t Jon.”

His smile appeared jokingly as he glanced over the near full table.

“But please, where are my manners? My name is Bruce and please feel comfortable to refer to me like that. The three boys across from you are my oldest Dick, Jason, Tim, and Duke.”

Dick's smile was blinding as he reached over the table to shake her hand vigorously.

“I’m so glad my little boy has made a friend and such a beautiful and well-mannered one as well!”

“Yeah, I wonder how he did that?” Jason, at least that’s what she believed his name was, stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stared down the two. Duke began to stroke his chin as well before he leaned across the table, shielding his mouth from where Damian sat.

“Hey, Marinette, blink twice if he’s threatening you or your family’s lives in any way.”

There was a small thud from under the table as Duke flinched slightly in his seat.

Bruce shook his head as he motioned past the boys and to the girls that sat on the other side of Damian.

“On this side of the table are my daughters in all but paperwork. Barbara, Cassandra, and Stephanie.”

“Uhm, you forgot one pop.”

The girl at the end of the table kicked her feet up onto the table, her mischievous smile poking at Bruce’s patience.

“How could I ever forget you, Harper? I was just saving you for last.”

Harper sent a wink in Marinette’s direction earning a giggle from the girl.

“Miss Harper, I must ask you to refrain from placing your feet on the table as I serve out the first course.”

Instantly she straightened in her seat as Alfred seemingly materialized from behind. The smile on his face as dangerous as ever. Marinette could finally see what Damian was worried about, his family was absolutely wild. Her eyes drifted from each person as they absentmindedly chatted in small groups.

Damian’s hand found hers under the table, giving her a slight reassuring squeeze.

“Marinette, I must apologize for dinner being so late. I had to work over today and even if I got out earlier than usual, I must admit it is not early enough. Please apologize to your parents for my inconsiderate job.”

Marinette swallowed hard as she sat down her fork.

“Oh, uhm, I suppose Damian didn’t tell you. I-uh-live on my own in the city.”

All of the chatter in the room fell silent and once more, she could feel the heat of every stare in the room on her.

“Oh? Are they okay with that? Gotham isn’t exactly known to be the safest at night.” His chuckle was humorless as he watched her bright eyes dull.

“I actually came to Gotham on my own merits, a fresh start if you will. My parents died last year in a bakery fire. Papa tried to find me, thinking I was home, but even as Maman begged him to leave the building, he couldn’t leave believing I was still in there.”

She felt a single hot tear trail down her cheek, but she was quick to wipe it away before any more could follow.

“I apologize, I had no idea.”

Marinette shook her head vigorously as the apologies spewed out of her mouth.

“Please, forget I said anything at all. I one hundred percent overshared. Now dinner will be so awkwardly, please, it’s been a year, I’m okay.”

The conversation started back slowly, but once it did, Marinette couldn’t stop laughing. She shared with them her business and talked about how she and Damian first met. Tim couldn’t wrap his head around the thought that Damian would have actually stopped on the street to comfort her.

“I mean, what are you? A demon tamer? Teach me your ways sensei.”

As Alfred collected the final plates for the evening, Marinette felt better than she had in a long time. When it came time to leave, Bruce offered to escort them back to the front.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, may I ask how old you are?”

“16.”

Bruce’s stare was concerning as he reached out to pick up her hand.

“How do you live in an apartment then?”

“Oh, My grandmother signed the lease. She technically lives with me, but she’s such a free spirit, I couldn’t possibly expect her to stay in one spot. I mostly live there on my own. Honestly, I’m quite jealous of the large family Damian has, he is very lucky.”

Marinette thought she had to be hallucinating. Bruce Wayne almost seemed to be vibrating the more she talked.

“You know Marinette, this manor is quite spacious. If you ever need-”

“Absolutely not.”

In one quick movement, Damian was between them, his glare ready to cut through his own father.

“But Damian-”

“Father I cannot allow you to adopt my girlfriend!”

Bruce’s jaw dropped as he finally noticed the constant contact that the two had initiated all night. At first, he thought it could be just her way of keeping herself grounded, but the more he thought back on it, it did seem quite like how a couple would act.

“Dammit, now I owe Steph $20.”

Marinette peeked behind Bruce where all of Damian’s siblings stood exchanging money, Tim looking especially upset as he handed the blonde a crisp bill. For what felt like the billionth time tonight, Marinette felt her face flush.

“You are all utter buffoons. Father, we will complete this conversation later. As for now, I will escort Marinette back to her apartment and I will be taking the car.”

Damian’s hand intertwined with hers as she allowed herself to be dragged from the manor. A chorus of goodbyes echoed after her, even Alfred waved her goodbye as he graciously shut Bruce’s mouth for him. As she climbed into the car, Marinette leaned over to place a small kiss on Damian’s cheek.

“What was that for?” The stutter in his voice was something she adored, something that only ever appeared when she caught him off guard.

“Thank you for letting me meet your family today. It turned a bad day into a good one.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the red of his cheeks betrayed his indifferent attitude as he shifted the car into drive.

As the manor disappeared in the rearview mirror, only one thought remained on her mind. Just how would the conversation go with Bruce when Damian returned?

The thought alone made her smile.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat

#maribat #marinette x damian #daminette

[mysweetestcreature]

Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies

Words: 24.5k

Warnings: Mentions of death...smut?

Summary: Why can’t two people who are meant for each other get it right?

***

They’re fighting again. All Y/n can do is shut her eyes in the hopes that when she opens them, everything will be okay. But no amount of wishing can drown out the noise. 

“I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine! It’s not. You know it isn’t, Matt,” she hears her mother erupt between sobs. Lately, it’s been the same angry words shouted at one another over and over again. Y/n takes her baby sister, Ava, in her eight-year-old arms. She hugs the baby close. If she can’t block the screaming out, at least she can protect her sister from it.

“Grace, please.” It’s her dad’s voice. She’s never heard him sound so desperate. “What about our family? The girls need you. I need you! You can’t just walk away from us.” 

There’s a sudden silence that follows. At first, Y/n thinks that maybe her parents have reached a resolution. Her dad has always been good at negotiating. It is his job, after all. She’s seen him in action whenever he brings her to work with him. Maybe he’s managed to work that same magic on her mum. She gently lays Ava down on the bed, creating a makeshift barrier of pillows on either side of her, before exiting the room and running down the stairs. 

Before she can reach the bottom, she’s forced to a halt when she sees her daddy slouched over on the last step. His head is buried in his hands, his shoulders are shaking. He’s crying. That’s a sight she’s never seen before. He’d always been the picture of bravery and strength, but now that’s been washed away and replaced with someone who looks broken beyond repair. She doesn’t recognize him.

Where is her mum? She slips past her dad, despite wanting to throw herself in his arms for comfort. Besides his sniffling, the house is quiet. There’s no trace of her mum. It scares her.

“Where’s Mummy?” she asks meekly, turning to her father.

He doesn’t respond, but instead, he brings his hands out of his hair, and stares painfully at the door. Without thinking, she throws it open, the sun’s light momentarily blinding her for a few unhinged seconds. It’s only the screeching of wheels on road that brings her back.

“Mummy!” she cries, running as fast as her short legs can take her. Her eyes begin to swell with tears. The black taxi is still, and she’s just able to stare at her mum through its window. “Mummy, where are you going?” she pleads as she bangs on the door, but her mother doesn’t even flinch. Why won’t she look at me? 

The engine starts up, and the car begins to drive away. Y/n chases after it, crying out for her mum to come back. “Don’t go! Please don’t leave me!” It picks up speed after it turns the corner. She feels herself slowing down, but even then, she refuses to stop. The distance between herself and the car becomes too massive.  

“Mummy, come back!” 

Arms envelop around her, and now she’s running on air. “Let her go,” her dad tells her, and she can feel his own tears against her neck. Her feet stop kicking, it’s like the energy has completely drained from her body. Her mind, however, is still racing. 

***

A few days later, her daddy packs both hers and Ava’s bags, and loads them all into his car. She doesn’t ask questions, and instead busies herself with the fleeting landscape. A part of her had expected all that’s happened to be a part of some elaborate nightmare. But each morning, she wakes up to her parents’ bed left untouched, and her dad asleep on the living room couch. Ava is asleep beside her, and Y/n can’t help but think how lucky her little sister is to be living in ignorance. At three months old, she’s only just learned to hold her head up. Barely. Y/n doesn’t remember anything from that age, and maybe that’s a good thing. Had her parents always been this hostile towards one another? Had her mother done this before? What if she had? Does that mean she’ll eventually come back?

“We’re going to be staying with your grandparents for a while,” she’s taken out of her thoughts when her dad finally speaks up.

“Why?” She catches his eyes in the rearview mirror. They only ever go up to Nan and Gramps’ house during the holidays.

His fingers thump against the steering wheel, and he breathes in deeply as though to say something. It takes a moment before he answers her. “I just...I can’t do this alone.” His voice breaks, even though he tries to pass it off with a cough. “It’ll be good for us,” he says again. “You’ll see.”

When they hit a red light, he turns to look at her. He smiles weakly. No matter how much she wants to believe him, she still yearns for her mummy. It’s become especially hard in the mornings when her hair is knotted from tossing and turning in her sleep, and her dad can’t manage to tame it for the life of him. Her mum would often braid her hair, and like magic, it would remain intact all day. She always loved how gentle and soothing her mum would be as she brushed each strand with such care. That’s not to say that her dad isn’t trying, of course, but it’s just not the same.

***

Her grandparents live in a little town called Holmes Chapel. It’s pretty, she supposes. The buildings are a lot older, and the streets aren’t as busy as they are back home. She sits back and takes a deep breath. Her tummy flips a little when she thinks about how she might never see her old friends again, or her room, or even Mrs. Watson who lives next door (she would babysit Y/n and Ava whenever her mum had to run some errands). 

When she looks out the window again, she sees Nan and Gramps stood on their front porch, smiles reaching their eyes. 

“Where are my babies!” Nan exclaims, her arms stretched out. Her dad says a quick hello before opening up the back door. Y/n hops out, and her legs feel a bit unsteady from having been cramped in the car for all those hours. 

“Hi, Nana,” she greets sadly. Nan’s smile falters slightly, but she doesn’t seem to let it deter her.

The elderly woman bends down to her height and gathers her in her arms. Over Nan’s shoulder, Y/n watches as her dad whispers something in Gramps’ ear. Although she can’t hear it, she can tell by Gramps’ reaction that it can’t have been good. “A bit peaky?” Nan asks, when she finally pulls away. She cups Y/n’s cheeks and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I just took the cookies out of the oven, actually. Let’s go check on them before your grandfather gobbles them up.” 

Gramps groans behind them. “It was one time!” 

Nan waves him off, guiding her through the front door with an encouraging push. “Oh, you won’t believe all the colors I bought for you at the crafts store yesterday! I know how much you love to draw,” she says. Her voice drowns out when she hears something fall outside. “Arthur Y/l/n! If you break another one of my pots, I swear to–” It leaves Y/n to wander through the hall on her own. Her grandparents’ house is quaint and orderly and smells vaguely of warm vanilla (probably from the cookies) and jasmine. The walls are covered in framed photographs of her daddy and his older brother through the years, a few of a much younger Nan and Gramps, and finally of Y/n, Ava and all of her cousins. (They live in Nice––her Uncle Brandon married a French woman named Dominique––and only ever seem to come around for Nan and Gramps’ anniversary.) Finally, below her uncle and aunt’s wedding photo, is her parents’. She tries not to stare at it too long.

***

Y/n decides that maybe spending time with her grandparents won’t be so bad. After all, her and Ava don’t have to share a room anymore, which means that she won’t be woken up by her little sister’s 3 am wailing fits. Nan’s done an impressive job decorating on such short notice, too. The walls are still plain white, but at least there are some pretty stickers of butterflies and flowers and a few of Y/n’s favorite cartoon characters. Even the windows are nicely covered with those gel ornaments that she loves to poke. 

It’s all very nice, but she still wonders about when she’ll be able to sleep in her own bed, in her own house, under her own sheets.

“When are we going home?” she asks her dad as he tucks her in for the night. His hands stop in the middle of smoothening out her blanket, his eyes remaining glued to one of its printed ballerinas. 

“To be honest with you, love,” he sighs, “I don’t know if we’ll ever go back...at least not anytime soon.” 

“Oh.” That’s not the answer she wanted to hear. What if her mum does decide to come back? It’s still possible, right? After all, her mummy had always told her how much she loved her. She would scoop Y/n into her arms and twirl her around the room as they both laughed their hearts out. When she was sick, she’d always have her favorite tomato soup and grilled cheese. Every day after school, she’d sit down with her and help her do her homework and then give her an extra cookie if she didn’t complain. 

Then another thought pops into her head. Her mum hadn’t been able to do any of that stuff recently. It had been like living with someone who looked exactly like her mum, but without all the warmth and tenderness that once was. Y/n turns away from her dad and starts to sob silently into her pillow. 

Maybe she isn’t coming back, after all.

The dip in the bed from where her daddy had been finally reinflates. He’s about to wrap his hand around the door before she stops him. She calls out his name, sitting up with her arms around her knees. 

“We’ll be happier here?” 

His shoulders visibly relax, and for the first time in what feels like so long, he offers a sincere smile and nods affirmatively. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his smile until now. There’s something about it that she can’t quite describe, but she feels the safest she’s felt in a while.

***

Her daddy had left for the airport some hours ago. Gramps had offered to bring her along for the ride the night before, but she decided that she would rather not watch him leave. Instead, she pretended to be asleep when he came into her room and kissed her on the forehead. She knows he’ll be back in a few days, but it’s always tough when he has to go. It’s one of the other reasons they needed to move in with her grandparents, her dad has to travel a lot for work.  

As soon as he and Gramps had loaded the car and driven away, she had stepped outside and sat down on the grass. That had been before the sun had totally risen. Now, it’s up high and shining its rays on top of her head. Nan, who had been surprised to see her granddaughter sitting out on the lawn so early in the morning, had asked her if she wanted breakfast, but was told she wasn’t hungry. 

They’ve only been living here for a little over a week. She thought that they would’ve had more time to adjust before her dad had to fly off to wherever it is they’ve sent him. So far, things have been fine...or at least they’ve been as best as they can be. She tries not to think about her mum too much (she’s down to only once or twice a day). It’s a good thing that Nan and Gramps have a million ways to keep her busy.

Today is different, however. She’d had her daddy with her when she felt homesick. Now, she feels alone. 

“Hi,” her head snaps up, and there’s a boy, maybe around her age, standing above her. He has messy brown hair that curls at the ends, his pleasant smile is complete with dimples on either cheek. It’s his eyes, however, that hold her attention. They’re like spearmint, if spearmint is even considered a color. Or maybe they’re the same shade as the stems of her Nan’s petunias. She can’t quite describe it, but she can tell that she likes them. 

“Hi.” 

The boy takes her response as an invitation to sit down beside her. “I’m Harry. Do you want a Freddo?” He pulls out a chocolate frog from his pocket. “My sister always eats chocolate when she’s upset, and she’s a girl, and you’re a girl, and you looked kind of sad, so...” He gives her a lopsided grin.

“I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers,” she says. 

He––Harry––rolls his eyes. “I just told you, my name’s Harry.” He shifts a bit, then points to the house on the left of hers. “That’s my house there.”

“What if I don’t want to believe you?” she challenges, but she’s failing miserably not to grin at how utterly exasperated he’s getting.

With a defeated sigh, Harry shouts towards the house. “Oi, Gem!” It takes only a few seconds for a head to peak out of an upstairs window. 

An older girl, maybe around thirteen looks like she could throttle him. “I’m on the phone, Harry! Bugger off or I swear I’ll––oh, no, no! Not you, Blake.” She disappears back into her room. 

Y/n can’t help but giggle, and Harry turns to her, a triumphant look on his face. “See. Told you.” 

Once again, he offers her the Freddo, but this time, she happily accepts it. They sit in a comfortable silence as she nibbles on the chocolate. 

“I’m Y/n,” she finally tells him. 

Harry studies her carefully. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Y/l/n your grandparents? Because I’ve been over there loads of times––she babysits me when my mum and Gem are busy––but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

She nods. “Me, my sister and my dad moved in last week.”

“And your mum?” he tilts his head.

Her teeth bite down on the inside of her cheek. She looks at him wearily before staring down into her lap. “It’s just us.”

“Oh,” is all he replies. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “My parents are separated too. My dad lives in the city, but I still see him most weekends.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see my mum again,” she frowns.

What he does next startles her, but she’s more surprised at how quickly she relaxes. He wraps an arm around her and brings her closer so she can lean on her shoulder. “Mum says hugs help a lot,” he says sheepishly, she can feel his eyes on her. She nods against him, and it encourages him to continue. “I’m sorry you can’t see your mum, but hey, you can always talk to me! I’ll be your friend.”

It’s her turn to look up. “You promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Y/n decides that she really likes living with her grandparents. Her and Harry are practically inseparable, spending the better part of the day together (and sometimes during the night when they have sleepovers). This means that she hasn’t cried in a long time, and she’s heard her daddy tell her grandparents that things are finally starting to look up. Her daddy looks better than he has been in ages, he doesn’t have that faraway look in his eyes anymore. 

Harry usually comes over after breakfast, or even earlier when he knows Nan will be making French toast just the way he likes it. They play the entire day, a variety of games that range from hopscotch to pretend, to sneaking into Gemma’s room to dig into her stash of sugary treats because the girl has enough Freddo frogs to last her until next Christmas. He even likes to draw with her, even though she knows he rather be outside running around. 

Sometimes Gramps will drive them into town, and they’ll go to the park or the ice cream parlor or their favorite Chinese restaurant. (She learns that she prefers shrimp over pork fried rice). There’s also a bakery that she thinks is the cutest place she’s ever seen. They serve all sorts of pastries and desserts that the owner, Martha, gives them for free when the rest of the customers aren’t looking. Y/n thinks that’s all to do with Harry. She’s eight, and she can already see how charming her best friend is. She’s glad that she has him by her side. He’s made her time here better than she could have ever imagined.

But soon enough, September comes along, and with it, school. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous. While she and Harry will be attending the same school, he’s a year older, which means she might not see him nearly as much as she’d like. 

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see,” he tells her as they walk to school. “And we have breaktime, too. I can introduce you to all my friends, and you can introduce me to all of your new ones!” He sounds far too excited. 

Y/n pulls on his sleeve, and he clumsily stumbles back a bit. “But Harry,” she whines, digging the toe of her shoe into the sidewalk. “What if I don’t make any friends?” 

“You?” he gasps. “You’re like the most awesome person I know! Just be yourself.”

She doesn’t say a word, instead, she drops her head to look anxiously 

“Come on.” He takes her hand in his. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need me.” And they walk the rest of the way hand in hand. 

***

Harry drops her off at her classroom before going to find his. He promised he’d walk down with her for lunch, so at least she has that much to look forward to. When he disappears down the hall, she finally lets herself turn around to examine the place she’ll be spending the rest of the year in. 

The desks are all perfectly aligned, with names of her classmates in bold and colorful writing on cards at the very front. She quickly looks for her name and takes a seat. On the board, her teacher’s name is artfully written in the center. Miss Ferguson. She must have been the one who had greeted Y/n at the door a few minutes earlier. 

Y/n’s curiosity gets the best of her, and she starts committing every feature of the room to memory. The pictures of letters and corresponding objects and animals along the top of the blackboard are just like the ones from her old school. From her seat, she can see the playground, and she fantasizes about all the time she and Harry had spent on the monkey bars and hidden in the tube slide. 

“Do you want to trade notebooks?” Y/n turns in her seat in the direction of the voice. Behind her is a girl with blonde pigtails and an adorable gap between her two front teeth. “My mum always forgets that I don’t like purple.”

Y/n stares down at her own notebook, which is pink with white polka dots. “I like purple.” 

The girl grins widely. “Yay! You’re nice, I like you. I’m Penelope,” but as soon as she says it, her nose scrunches up in disgust. “But I hate being called that. So, just call me P or Penny!” Y/n gives a brief introduction, and the two girls trade notebooks. 

“You’re new, right?” Penny asks.

“Yup,” Y/n confirms, fishing her pencil case out of her backpack. “I moved here at the beginning of the summer.”

“Really? I’ve never lived anywhere besides here before, but when I’m older I want to live in London!” 

“That’s where I’m from,” Y/n says sheepishly. She hasn’t thought much about it, but when she does, she still misses it a fair amount. 

Penny’s hands go to her cheeks as she gapes in astonishment. “That’s so cool! What’s it like? Have you ever met the Queen?”

Y/n giggles. “I don’t even know where the Queen lives!” 

“Ugh, I’ve got so many things to teach you, then.” She and Penny make plans to hang out during breaktime and lunch.

Maybe Harry was right after all.

***

When the bell rings for lunch, Miss Ferguson’s class files out of the room in a somewhat straight-file line. Y/n walks behind Penny, her new friend is explaining all the proper ways to curtsy in front of a prince when a hand reaches out and tugs on the back of Y/n’s collar. 

She spins around, ready to thwack the whomever it might be. “I leave you for a few hours and you’ve already forgotten about me?” Harry smirks. 

“You just surprised me, that’s all,” she says. She’s fallen to the back of the line now. Penny stays back too and walks over to the two of them. “Harry, this is Penny! She’s in the same class.” 

Penny’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and her cheeks flush a shade of pink. “Hi-hi,” she stutters. Y/n stares at her for a moment, unsure where this sense of shyness has suddenly come from. She shakes her head, it’s probably just a draft from an open window. 

“Hi, Penny,” Harry returns kindly. He then turns back to Y/n. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria. I’m starving!” 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Penny says, sounding much more like herself. Y/n walks in between them, feeling content. 

***

By the time she’s fifteen, Y/n has all she can ever ask for. Her dad doesn’t travel as much anymore, except for trips to the London office once a month, he’s able to work from Manchester. Ava’s seven now, and therefore able to cause all sorts of mischief. In fact, just last night, she’d eaten the entire leftover cake in the fridge when the rest of the family had gone to bed. She claims it was a ghost, but the frosting smeared across her face told everyone otherwise.

Penny’s practically moved in with them. Things at home aren’t always the best for her. Her mum usually spends the days drinking, the nights clubbing, and the early hours of the morning in some stranger’s bed. As for her dad, Penny doesn’t bring him up much. He decided to reconcile with his wife when Penny was three years old, leaving her and her mother penniless and alone. And well, she hasn’t spoken to him since. 

Finally, there’s Harry. He’s still her funny, sweet, and incredibly cute best friend. He’s sixteen now, far more mature than her. While they still spend loads of time together, he has his friends, and she has hers. Although, he does still come around for breakfast on the weekends––Nan’s French toast is still his most favorite thing on the planet––and they usually spend the rest of the time catching up on homework and watching movies they’ve already seen a million times. She loves how she’s never bored when she’s around him. They could be laying on the grass outside her house (much like they usually do) for hours, talking about nothing and everything, and still never run out of things to talk about. 

Except in the last few months. The thing is, Harry’s got himself a girlfriend, Lia, and she doesn’t like Y/n. There’s no logical explanation as to why, but whenever Y/n tries to talk to Harry at school, Lia slips her arms around him, like she’s claiming what’s hers, and glares at her until she has no choice but to retreat. She doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry that his first serious girlfriend is a total bitch, no matter how much she wants to. 

It’s a Friday night, Penny is staying over. She’s lazily flipping through last month’s edition of Vogue on Y/n’s desk. 

“Have you ever been in love?” she asks. 

“We’re fifteen. It’s not like there’s been much opportunity,” Y/n chuckles. She glances up momentarily from her sketchbook. If there’s a punchline, it never comes. She then gives her a look. “Why, have you?”

Penny shrugs. “Sometimes I think I am, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d never see me like that.” 

Y/n doesn’t respond to this. She’s heard stories about the boy Penny’s apparently fancied for ages now, but for some reason her friend refuses to give her a name. If she had to guess, it’s probably Bobby Baker from her French class. They dated for a few months when they were fourteen, but things had ended abruptly. Sometimes she’ll see them talking between classes and while in line for lunch. Her money’s definitely on Bobby.

Not wanting to press her for details, however, Y/n changes the topic. “Harry’s probably in love with Lia. I saw them snogging at the bust stop this morning.”

Penny groans. “They’re so gross!” she pretends to gag. “Oh, Harry. You’re so handsome! Kiss me before our lips dry out! Oh, Lia, you’re so pretty. Take this flower as a sign of my undying affections!” She imitates them, doing it so flawlessly. 

They share a look, and suddenly, they’re balled over in fits of laughter.

“How do they even breathe?” Y/n wheezes into her pillow. It’s not to say that she hasn’t kissed a boy before. It’s just never been as intense––or as nauseating––as that. Besides, none of her boyfriends have last long enough. Harry says that it’s all for the best, according to him, none of them are good enough for her. 

“They’re twos, you’re a total ten,” he had said to her once. She pretended not to feel her heart leap at the compliment. “A ten can’t go any lower than maybe a seven.” She wanted to say that she thought he was a ten, too, but was too embarrassed to say it.

***

Penny leaves early the next morning, but first helping herself to some of the food Nan had just prepared before zipping out the door. She leaves Y/n half asleep and barely functional.

“So, what’s the gossip?” Nan teases her, pouring her a cup of tea. 

“Same old, same old,” she yawns. She breathes in the steam from her mug and smiles. 

Nan places a plate of French toast in front of her. “Talking about the same old things until three in the morning? If only your grandfather and I could stay up that late. Of course, we’d be doing other things that decidedly aren’t–” she pauses, and Y/n’s never been more thankful. They both turn towards the back door. “Ah, and I was just beginning to worry.” 

Harry mutters a sleepy good morning, then stumbles into the seat beside Y/n. He looks at her breakfast, then looks at her. As if they can communicate silently, Y/n pushes her plate towards him. 

“Harry, dear,” Nan starts, making up a new plate for her granddaughter. “How does your mum feel about you spending so much time here?” 

“She’s fine with it,” he says, mouth full of bread. “As long as I bring her back some food, she says I can spend as much time here as I want.” 

Nan just rolls her eyes. “Will that be banana or blueberry then?”

“Hmm...” Harry pretends to mull over the options, but Nan knows better. Y/n watches with amusement as she places both bananas and blueberries on top of the French toast, then places it on a disposable plate and wraps it with tinfoil. 

She turns to them. “I’m just going to pop next door and give this to Anne.” Just before she can slide the door open, she calls one last remark over her shoulder. “Try not to burn the house down. We just had the floors waxed.” 

Y/n continues to sip on her tea, and Harry hums happily around another delectable bite. They sit in comfortable silence. 

“I feel like we haven’t talked in a while,” he says. He looks at her curiously. “Why is that?”

She has to bite her lip in order to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret. “Well, you know. I’ve been really busy lately.” From the corner of her eye, she can see how one of his brows shoot straight up.

“Busy with?”

“You know there’s an art show happening soon. I’ve been spending all my time in the art room.” She knows she isn’t convincing anyone, let alone him. He can read her like a book.

But if Harry is thinking she’s lying, then he doesn’t say anything. “Right,” he says aloofly. Taking another bite of his––her––breakfast, he continues. “Lia’s going to have a few pieces on display.”

This catches her off guard. “Lia’s into art? Since when?” 

He gives her a noncommitted grunt. “It’s news to me too.” He takes her mug from her hands and takes a sip. “But she seemed really interested when I mentioned you were participating.”

“Huh.” She rests her chin on her fist. That’s strange. She’s never seen Lia Hall set foot anywhere near the art room. Lia’s a cheerleader and spends most of her time cheering on the school’s football team, which is how she and Harry got together. Y/n would know if they shared any common interests. At least that way, she could talk to Harry without her grumbling bloody murder under her breath. 

“What is it?” his question pulls her out of thought. She plasters a smile on her face and says it’s nothing. 

***

Her bedroom window is right across from his, and they’ve been using it to their advantage since they were kids. When they both had bedtimes that were too early to ever enjoy the night, they would look out their window and find the other looking right back. They’d spend the night trying to make the other laugh with funny faces and their own little game of charades. 

But as Y/n looks up from her half-finished essay and through the glass, she doesn’t need elaborate hand motions to know that Harry is pissed. She wonders if he realizes where he’s standing or maybe he just doesn’t care right now. He looks like he’s trying to stay calm, but Y/n knows him better than that. While he isn’t one to yell, his voice does get tight when he’s trying hard not to. 

He runs a hand through his brown locks in frustration. She feels guilty for not having the strength to turn away, but she’s just too curious for her own good. If only she could read his lips just to get an idea as to why he’s so upset, but alas, that’s never been her talent. She waits, occasionally working on her essay (occasionally), then lifting her head back up to check up on him. 

When she looks up after a stroke of genius that had promoted words to pour out onto the page, he’s gone. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. Oh, well. At least all she has to do now is proofread. 

“Did you know your nan is making pot pie for dinner?” 

She swivels in her chair, her eyebrow tilting up. “I did.”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?” he pretends to be hurt as he falls onto her bed. “I’m wounded you would choose to withhold such valuable information from me.”

“I’m sorry?” she chuckles. Closing her laptop, she sits on the floor right beside where his head falls of the side of the bed. 

He turns to her, his upside-down face grinning pompously at her. “Eh, you know I can never stay mad at you.” She thumps his forehead with another laugh, but he only continues to smile.

*** 

Y/n’s always loved art and how it can imitate life in the way the artist chooses. Ever since she can remember, she’s been doodling landscapes and portraits on napkins or just about any plain surface she can get her hands on. She thinks she gets it from her mum. There’s not much she can remember about her, but she does recall her mother’s love for the fine arts. And as much as she tries not to think about her, she’s happy she knows where she gets it from. 

Mrs. Cuomo, the art teacher, says she has a gift, and Y/n tries not to let it get to her head, but she can’t help it! She’s already taken to looking for art programs around England. If she wouldn’t miss her family too much, she’d consider going abroad. 

“Paris seems fabulous, don’t you think? I mean, they have some of the best fashion schools in the world.” Penny muses as they walk around the gallery. “French boys are a plus.”

“Is that where you want to go after college?” 

“Possibly. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to afford it, though.” 

Y/n nods, understanding her friend’s situation.

They continue to browse all the art on display, until stopping at Y/n’s exhibit. She has three paintings. The one on the left is an abstract portrait of Ava that she’d been working on since the last art show. It was inspired by her little sister’s fifth birthday. Dad had bought her the cutest little periwinkle dress with a grey ribbon around the waist. It’s something Y/n would’ve been over the moon for at that age. But Ava being the little rebel she was (and still is) had gotten it all dirty. Right before her party, she came trudging back into the house, a complete mess from head to toe. Y/n’s entitled the portrait Muddy Princess. On the right is a landscape of a forest with the simple name Serene Acres. Finally, the one in the middle is a sideview of a boy laying in the grass. His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed. He looks relaxed, like he’s never had a trouble in the world. As do all her paintings, this one had started off as a mere sketch born from a vision that she suddenly had just as she had woken up. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she’d make it anything more than that. But the longer she spent refining it, she just knew she had to take it all the way. There’s something comforting about him. This one in particular is Y/n’s absolute favorite. 

“Oh, you’re totally going to win this year,” Penny enthuses. “I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend and I’d literally give you a kidney, but seriously. You’re golden.” 

“I hope you’re right,” she says nervously. “Mrs. Cuomo said that the judges are going to be a lot more critical this year. I just hope they like my stuff.” 

Penny waves her off, as if she were talking nonsense. “They will.”

“Will what?” A pair of familiar hands land on her waist, and she can’t help but smile when sees him gasp at the wall in front of her. “Woah,” he’s speechless. She pats his arm as she steps away from him, afraid that his girlfriend might catch sight of them. 

“You like them?” she smiles. He nods, still unable to speak. 

“So, where’s Lia’s display?” Penny asks, but Y/n can sense the annoyance in her voice. She knows all about the girl’s hatred of Y/n.

Harry stares blankly, until finally registering the question. “Oh...um. She decided not to enter, after all.” He wraps an arm Y/n once again, and this time, Y/n doesn’t bother pushing him off.

“That seems sudden,” she says.

“Well...” Harry looks left and right, like he’s making sure no one will hear them. “I guess she realized that she didn’t stand a chance.”

This makes Penny snort. “Are we talking about the same girl here? Lia Hall does not back down. From anything. I’ve seen her at the mall fighting over jeans with University kids. She’s scary as hell.”

***

She’s laying on the grass on her front lawn when Harry comes outside and joins her. His body is oriented in the opposite direction so that their eyes are aligned if they were to face each other. He doesn’t say anything more than a hello. His hands are placed on his stomach and his nose wriggles when a cool breeze brushes past. 

“Lia and I broke up,” he suddenly says, but his voice is even and calm. 

“I’m sorry.”

He laughs loudly. “No, you’re not.” He glances at her before facing back up. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that you two don’t get along.”

“At least I know you’re not dense.” She bites back a smile. Why is she so elated with the news? Does that make her a bad person? Who’s to say? “She was pretty awful.”

“She was hot, though,” Harry interjects.

“I suppose.”

Silence washes over them. If she were any more relaxed, she’s sure she could fall asleep right here, next to him. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“What?”

“The clouds, Harry. Aren’t they beautiful?” She giggles when he squints at the grey canvas above them. 

“There are no clouds,” he says flatly. He turns his head, their eyes lock.

She swallows, and she’s the first to turn away. With a content sigh, she lets her eyes droop closed. Even without looking, she can feel the way his gaze lingers, like he might be waiting for something more. “You too,” it’s a gentle request, possibly an order. He’s never been able to deny her anything. 

“Alright then,” there’s an amused tone to his voice now. He breathes deeply, his own eyes closing as the air leaves his chest. 

They lay motionless for a comfortable few minutes. Things are quiet between them, and only nature’s melody that plays uninterrupted. 

The wind whistles, and the leaves on the trees dance along with crisp and breezy movements. As the air––which smells strongly of fall’s fiery allure––rubs against her skin and tickles the tip of her nose, another blissful smile leaves a pattern across her lips.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“Not much, honestly. My eyes are closed.” 

She punches his arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

He groans out in pain. “Fine then,” he concedes. “What do you see?”

The image is vivid in her head. “Purple clouds.”

He chuckles softly.

“What color is the grass?”

“Green, of course.”

“That’s boring,” he teases.

She huffs in annoyance. “Not everything needs changing, you know.” He doesn’t challenge it.

“And the sky?”

That’s her favorite part. 

“Tangerine.”

“That’s a fruit.”

“and a color.”

“Why can’t you just say orange?” 

“Because,” she starts in her best ‘you better listen to me or else’ tone. “Orange is a meh kind of color. But tangerine? It’s a bit more exciting.”

“Exciting,” he repeats slowly, as though he were testing the weight of the word on his tongue. 

When she opens her eyes, fully expecting him to be looking at her as though she had two heads, she’s surprised to see that his are still closed. She finds herself studying him. The way his chest steadily rises and falls with each even breath. He looks as calm as she feels at that moment. It’s then she can appreciate just how handsome he really is. Of course, she’s known it for a while (but she’d never tell him that).

So, she turns her head back towards the grey-washed sky and paints over its gloom with an image of their own. 

***

Right before he starts Year 13, Harry’s dad, Des, moves to Boston. Harry tries to act like it doesn’t bother him, but Y/n knows that he misses him a lot. Even though his parents have been separated for a long time, he’d at least had a good relationship with both of them. He and his dad would do “manly” things like fishing and batting at the cages. He keeps telling her that he’s fine, and it’s not like he’ll never visit him, but she can sense that something is troubling him. 

It takes a bit of finesse to get him to talk, and once he does, she immediately regrets it. 

“He wants me to follow him,” Harry says, scratching the back of his head. Y/n thinks she might throw up. Boston...America...it’s just so far away. The farthest she’s ever been is Italy on vacation. 

She stares at him apprehensively. “Do you...umm...do you want to go?” 

Harry doesn’t answer her at first. It takes to the count of five for him speak. “I don’t know. Probably not. I mean...it’s a lot to ask, don’t you think? He’s asking me to uproot my life here.” He gazes at her. “And I really like it here.”

She lets out the breath she’d been holding. She doesn’t think she’d be able to handle being that far from him. He’ll be starting University in the fall, and him going to London already feels too much. Goodbyes aren’t easy for her, and she doesn’t think they’ll ever get easier. 

“At least both parents want you,” she doesn’t realize what she’s saying until it’s up in the air. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugs him off. “It’s just, you’re lucky that both of them love you.”

Harry appears to think hard on this. “I love you.”

Her heart stops beating, her eyes double in size.

“What?” 

He reddens, and for once, she can’t tell what’s going through his head. His jaw juggles back and forth, and then he coughs like he’s got something stuck in his throat. He wipes a hand down his face. “I mean, you’re my best friend, of course I do.” 

Just as quickly as it had enlarged, something inside her deflates. “Oh, right,” she tries not to sound disappointed. It’s a little awkward now, but she’s at least comforted in the fact that he values her so much. She nudges her elbow against him. “Hey,” she quips.

He tilts his head.

“I love you too, doofus.” 

***

Y/n’s always thought her dad to be a kind and fair man.

Matthew Y/l/n doesn’t spoil his girls, but he also knows how to reward them for a job well done. He’s also one of those approachable dads, the ones you can talk to about a crush without him getting overly protective. From when she was eight and until now, he’s always been there for her and Ava, and for that, Y/n is forever grateful. 

Which is why she feels like she can discuss this one teensy little thing with him. Now, Y/n, she’s made up her mind about wanting to pursue a career as an artist. Some might say it’s insane! Risky! Financial suicide! But isn’t the threat of failure all the more reason to strive? She thinks so, and she just knows that her dad will too!

After dinner, which is when her dad is at his happiest. His belly is full of Nan’s roast, and he’s sitting next to Gramps on the couch while they watch sports. This is her chance. She’s already practiced on everyone else in the house, plus Penny and Harry, so she has a pretty solid plan on how to approach him.

“Hey, daddy,” she says sweetly, plopping between him and Gramps. He smiles at her and flings an arm around her shoulder. He returns his attention back to the telly. She gives Gramps a look, one so pleading that she thinks she might have just made him tear up, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. 

“I’ve, uh, got to take a shit.” And he stumbles into the hall, Nan’s snorting following closely behind. 

“So, dad, there’s something I actually want to talk about,” she starts, turning so she’s completely facing him. Matthew presses on the remote so that the screen is completely black. He prods her to continue. 

Y/n chuckles nervously. No big deal. “You know how I’m like crazy about my art? I mean, I’ve won three competitions in the last nine months!” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ve been telling everyone at work that my daughter’s an artist. You should’ve seen Anthony’s face when he found out you were the one who beat his boy out for the ribbon...”

“Yeah, thanks, Dad.” She can feel herself getting excited. “And I’m so proud that I get to make you proud. I mean, you’ve given me so much, I feel like it’s the least I can do.” On her lips is her most dazzling smile. 

He eyes her suspiciously. “Okay, I’m sensing something else going on here. Spit it out.”

“Well, it’s just that next year is my last year of college, and I’ll be applying to universities soon, so I was hoping that we could talk about me pursuing art.”

“Pursuing art, as in...?”

“Dad, I want to be an artist.” That wasn’t so bad, right? She can see her dad’s face waver in emotion. At first, he looks confused, then maybe a little unsure, but then he’s just unreadable. “Thoughts?” she presses.

“No.”

Had she just heard him right? “What?”

“No.”

“But, Dad–”

“There’s little to no security. The odds of you even making a decent living out of it are practically one in a million.”

“Wait, just hear me out first...”

“I’ve heard enough, Y/n. You’re not going to throw away an education on a hobby.” He sighs, and for a moment, he looks almost guilty. “Look, I’m not telling you to never paint again. I’m just saying that you need to approach this from a more realistic point of view. How about you major in something more reliable––like business or nursing––then minor in what you want?” He continues to ramble on about different prospects, but she’s completely drowned him out by now.

There’s a spot on the rug that’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Where had she gone wrong? He’s never been so forceful with his decisions before. Had she overlooked a portion of her speech? 

“Mum loved art,” she whispers, but it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

Matthew stiffens at the mention of his estranged wife. “Your mother loved a lot of things. A lot more than she ever loved us.” And with that, he gets up and leaves.

***

“I think you should go for it,” she can always count on Harry to support her. 

She sighs, burying her face in his pillow. It smells of coconut and lavender. After her dad had walked out, she’d ran across the yard and had tackled Harry with a hug while he was taking out the trash. He’d given her some water (God knows how hysterical she’d been moments prior) before leading her up to his room so she could calm down.

“What if Dad’s right?” she mutters. “What if this really is just a hobby?” She suddenly feels herself being flipped onto her back, his legs straddling either side of her, his eyes boring into hers like lasers. Thoughts flash through her head, and it crosses her mind that he might actually kiss her. But he remains still.

“Look at me,” he says. “You’re amazing, and you know it. I know it. This whole damn town knows it. If there’s one person I know can make it as an artist, it’s you.”

While his words do encourage her, she’s far more concerned with how close he is. She nods in acknowledgement, and he flops next to her. Both of them stare at the ceiling. She wonders if he ever feels what she feels. 

“I got you something,” he says after a few minutes. He quickly turns and fishes for something under his bed.

“A present?” she doesn’t bother hiding the playfulness in her voice.

He kicks the side of her leg. “Grow up.”

“Can’t, I’m too excited.”

He pulls out a giftbag and hands it to her. “Saw this when I was out with Mum and well, it reminded me of you.” 

Peeking into the bag, she immediately smiles. “Is this...is this a frog?”

“Yeah, because remember when we first met? I gave you a–”

“Chocolate frog,” she finishes. It’s a plush toy the size of a basketball and its body is the same colors as their special world. Harry must’ve picked it out because of it. He’s always been thoughtful like that. It shouldn’t surprise her, but whenever he remembers these little things, she can’t help but feel weak at the knees. She and hugs her new frog to her chest. “It’s so cute! Oh, what should we name it?”

“Well, I feel like there’s only one appropriate name for it,” he winks.

“Kaleidoscope?” 

“That...that wasn’t even close to what I was going to say.”

She giggles, reaching over and bringing him in for a hug. “I’m just messing with you! We’ll obviously be calling him Freddo.” She sighs happily when his arms hold on to her tightly. Yeah, she likes his hugs a lot.

***

It’s the middle of March when Harry’s cousin comes to live with him. Jared is about his age, with the same shade of brown hair, only his is straight as opposed to Harry’s mess of wavy curls. Harry had told her that Jared’s mother (Anne’s sister, Sonya) had just passed away after her battle with cancer, and Y/n’s heart broke for the boy she barely knows. Similar to Penny’s situation, Jared’s dad isn’t in the picture. He’d left him and his mum before he was even born, and according to Harry, Jared’s always been very bitter about it.

Jared doesn’t leave his room much, only for school and for meals. Harry’s the only person he talks to because he wants to, not because he has to. They were practically like brothers before Jared had moved away, which Y/n is surprised to hear since she’s never heard of him before. But apparently when they were kids––way before Y/n moved in next door––Jared and his mum would always come over Harry’s house, and they’d play until one of them had to be forcibly dragged away. She had laughed when Harry had told her the story of how he and Jared had gotten stuck in the tree out back for five hours because the adults were so busy chatting inside.  

Sometimes Y/n will stop by and personally offer him some of Nan’s famous chocolate pie, and he’ll accept it only to give it to Harry once she leaves. Of course, she knows it’s nothing personal against her, it just makes her sad that she can’t help someone who is so important to her best friend. It’s hard for her to see Harry worry so much about him, and she really is trying her hardest to help him out. She doesn’t think Jared hates her, if anything, she always catches him staring at her in the halls when he thinks she doesn’t notice. That’s a promising sign, right?

“I happen to think he’s very good looking,” Penny tells her as they walk to Physics. “He kind of reminds of a young Leo.”

“You said the same thing about Harry last week,” Y/n giggles.

“They’re related, aren’t they? Maybe beautiful genes run in the family.”

Penny looks at her. “What do you think?”

She stares back at her. “About?”

“You know, Jared!” 

Y/n’s lips purse together. She hadn’t given him much thought, honestly. 

***

She’s glued to her sketchpad while sitting on the front lawn when she notices a shadow approach her. Not bothering to look up, she pats the spot beside her.

“Nan says that the pudding will be ready in ten,” she says. 

“That’s...cool.” That’s not Harry.

Tearing her eyes away from her latest drawing, she turns her head and sees the last person she expected. “Jared! Hi!” she squeaks.

He offers her a side grin. “Hey,” is all he says. He looks down into her lap. “You’re really good.”

“Oh, thank you.”

He rubs his hands on his jeans before settling them around his ankles. “Uh...do you mind if I sit here with you? You can say no, I was just feeling a little stuffed up in–”

“Of course! I love company!” she smiles broadly.

“I don’t know, you and that pencil were looking pretty cozy,” he suggests. She quirks a brow at him, but when the signs of a smirk begin to change the way his eyes gleam, she finally gets it.

“Jesus, that’s disgusting!” She doesn’t hesitate to slap him over the head. He sniggers in return but doesn’t say much more after that. Y/n continues to draw, but occasionally she’ll look up and catch him watching her. He immediately turns away, pretending to be busy with a blade of grass, or he’ll start whistling like it’s a sitcom.  

***

It doesn’t take long before Jared finally opens up to her. He’s funny––really funny, even though most of his humor is dirty––and is constantly finding ways to make Y/n laugh. She’s found that he does a nearly perfect impression of Austin Powers, and she enjoys it very much. There are also certain angles that really highlight how handsome he is. His eyes are a deep brown, almost the same shade as his hair. There are freckles evenly spread around his nose, almost as if they’d been specifically placed there. And oh, his lashes! They’re just as long as Harry’s, except maybe even fuller. She imagines what they would look like with a fresh coat of mascara. (She jokingly brought up the idea once, and to her delight, Jared says he wouldn’t mind it one bit.)

Harry seems happy that his cousin appears to be back to his old, goofball self. He’s definitely not as stressed over trying to get Jared out of his room as he had been in the immediate weeks after his Aunt Sonya’s death. Even Anne is starting to smile more. Losing her sister had been difficult for her, but Y/n admires how she had stepped up and took her nephew in without hesitance. She’s almost positive that that’s where Harry gets his selflessness from.

“Okay, real question, would you rather give up all desserts or all cheeses?” Jared asks. He always plays this game with her. She thinks it’s cute, sometimes even thought-provoking if she’s really into it. 

“Hmm, that’s a tricky one. Because what about–”

Both their eyes grow wide. “Cheesecake!”

Her head falls onto his shoulder as she laughs. She doesn’t see how Harry turns away. Although, sometimes she’ll notice how he’ll have this weird look in his eyes whenever the three of them are all hanging out together, but she thinks she’s just imagining it. 

***

When Penny tells her that Jared might like her, she doesn’t totally object to the idea.

***

A few days later, Jared kisses her. It’s one of those kisses that happen when you least expect it. She’s frozen in shock until his lips pull away. It’s strange, she likes the feeling, but something seems amiss. He looks at her nervously, like he’s afraid he’s done something completely wrong. But when she finally manages to get over that initial uncertainty, a grin slowly forms on her lips, and he’s kissing her again.

***

In two weeks’ time, she sees Harry snogging Penny outside his front door. She isn’t sure how to react, but she knows there’s this weird feeling inside of her that she doesn’t like.

***

Her and Harry haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since they started dating other people. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to him, in fact, she really misses him. Saturday morning breakfasts just aren’t the same without him shuffling into the kitchen in his half-asleep state. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was going out of his way to avoid her. Penny says that maybe he’s just feeling awkward because her two best friends are dating. (It turns out Harry had been the guy she’d been pining over for years.)

Maybe that’s true, but shouldn’t that make it easier for them to find themselves in the same room? She’s happy that Penny’s finally happy! Things hadn’t worked out with her last two boyfriends because all they wanted was to take advantage of her. If there’s one thing she’s sure about, it’s that Harry would never cross any lines that Penny hadn’t invited him to cross.

When they’re in Harry’s car, she’ll catch glimpse of how Harry takes Penny’s hand over the console, or how she’ll feed him fries from their takeaway. It makes her happy to see them like this. Really, it does.

Jared is just as much a gentleman, too. They haven’t done anything past snogging, and she’s okay with that. She isn’t even sure she’s ready for that type of commitment. It’s not like she has this idealized fantasy about losing her virginity. She doesn’t expect it to happen in the same way as the movies, with candles and a bed full of rose petals, or any of that romantic stuff. If the time’s right, it’s right. All she wants is to make sure her heart’s a hundred and ten percent in it before she lets anyone in. She wonders if Penny and Harry have talked about going all the way.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about it.”

“Oh,” Y/n tries not to sound surprised. “And how did that go?”

Penny gives a noncommitted answer. “He says he’s willing to wait until I’m ready. But the thing is, I’m ready now!”

***

Penny loses her virginity soon after. Y/n is the first person she calls, and it’s a bunch of squealing and bragging about how perfect it all was. How gentle and attentive he’d been, and how she can’t wait to do it again. It takes everything in her to not hang up. She loves Penny to death, but some things––at least in her opinion––are left unsaid.

***

The first time she and Harry get to spend time together, as in just the two of them, is when Jared is stuck in bed with a cold, and Penny is out with her mum. It’s not exactly planned, in fact, she had only seen him from the living room window whilst helping Nan dust the mantel. Deciding she couldn’t let the opportunity pass, she drops the feather duster and runs out the front door.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets, but she doesn’t sit. It’s only now she sees the bottle of beer hanging between his fingers. He usually only drinks when he’s got something messing with his head. 

He nods at her, and gestures to the spot beside him. She sits, but it feels to calculated for them. Usually, she’d plop down, not caring if their knees would brush together. Now, she’s careful to leave at least a few inches between them. And she hates how awkward things feel between them. In a matter of months, they’d gone from being attached at the hip, to barely acquaintances. 

“So, what’s going on?”

He takes a sip from the bottle, his face twitching with disgust as he does so, then takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel like things should be different?”

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair over her shoulders. She doesn’t know if the goosebumps running down her spin are from that or the it’s from the magnitude of his question. “Different, how?”

His features soften when he finally looks at her. As in, really looks at her. It feels like so long since he’s done, that it takes her breath away. He doesn’t say anything yet, but she can see in his eyes that there’s something there. 

“Harry?” she whispers.

His eyes drop down to her lips, and he licks his own in reaction. Nothing seems to matter at that moment. If her mind had been juggling with thoughts before this, it isn’t now. All she can think about his him. How good it feels to be so close him, and how she wants to be closer. 

Then it hits her. Jared. She’s with Jared, and Harry’s with Penny. She’d been leaning into him, but now that she’s broken from his trance, she straightens up.

Harry brushes off his disappointment with another sip from his beer. His stare lands across the street, where a pair of children are chasing each other around a tree. He drops his head, his hand wrapping around the base of his neck.

“I’m leaving for Boston tomorrow.”

She nods slowly. “Visiting your dad?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Something like that.”

Finally, he stands up, then offers her his hand so she can too. He doesn’t let go right away, and she revels in how good it feels. She smiles down to where they’re holding each other, then stares into his green orbs. 

Pulling on her arm, she’s suddenly trapped in his embrace. She hugs him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulder blades and pinching his t-shirt between her fingers. It’s all a bit confusing, but she continues to cling to him. She feels his nose nudge the crown of her head before he lets go.

He turns around and doesn’t look back. 

She isn’t sure what just happened, but it feels a lot like goodbye.

*** Ten Years Later

“It doesn’t feel right,” she sighs. “I can’t be the only one who’s thinking it.” He shuffles in place, eyes scanning the room around them. “What do you suggest then?”

“Take this to the empty wall by the entrance, then move the Reynalda exhibit closer to the back. It’s our main attraction, we have to make people work for it.”

Angelo nods approvingly, and she calls a thank you out to him as he gets to work. Y/n watches the rest of her staff disperse into their allocated directions, and it’s then she can finally take a moment for herself. Sometimes she feels suffocated, but at the same time so hollow.

There are so many reasons why Y/n shouldn’t be feeling as empty as she does now. After all, her life is pretty damn close to perfect. She graduated university with high honors, she has a well-paying job as director of a prestigious art gallery, and she lives in a beautiful two-bedroom apartment with her adoring fiancé who she’s been with for the better part of a decade. 

She can’t pinpoint when exactly she realized that something had been missing, or maybe this feeling has always existed somewhere deep inside, and she’s just been really good at hiding it. The only person who knows about this internal battle is Ava, but Y/n doesn’t like to bother her too much since she’s busy with coursework, as well as her own problems that come with being nineteen and young. 

Of course, there’s Jared. Her love. Her rock. Her other half. She doesn’t know why can’t talk about this with him. Maybe it’s too much of girl problem, or maybe it’s just guilt. The last thing she wants him to think is that he’s not enough to fill this void in her life. If anything, he’d been able to pick up all her damaged pieces when she just couldn’t. He’s great, more than. She depends on him, and he’s never let her down. 

But if that’s true. Why can’t she just be honest?

***

“Right, I’m heading out now. I’ll see you–” he pauses, and she can see the concern overtake his features from the reflection of the blank television screen. He walks around their living room and kneels in front of her, his hands rubbing her lower thighs with every intention to soothe her. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I don’t really know,” she laughs, then shakes her head. “It’s silly, really. You go ahead. Go have fun with Sid.” It’s her best attempt at a smile, but it’s a weak one. 

He looks at her unsurely, like he’s debating if he should protest or not. She kisses him gently on the lips. 

“Go.” And she nudges him to his feet. Although she can tell he’s hesitant, he eventually concedes, leaning down for just one more peck to her forehead, then he’s out the door.

She needs to find a way to depress this strange feeling. It’s starting to affect too much of her life. A life that she enjoys, thank you very much.

Before she falls slave to her thoughts, she slumps into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of cabernet. Maybe it’s a far too generous portion, but is there ever such thing as too much wine? At least for tonight, the answer is no.

The alcohol burns her throat with its bitter sweetness, and she finds comfort in how it settles at the pit of her stomach. She breathes in deeply. This is just what she needs. It’s all in her head. Stress, probably. 

Just as she’s about to rewrap herself in her blanket, the front door opens and closes with a gentle thud. She swings around, brows curling in question as Jared slips off his coat leans against the nearest wall.

“Sid will understand. You’re the one who needs me tonight.” 

She leans against the arm of the couch, a moved smile playing at her lips because, wow. How did she get so lucky?

***

“I found another grey hair this morning,” Jared says. “Is this what getting old feels like?”

She runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-eight, Jae. And besides, silver foxes are pretty sexy.” 

“I guess I’m a bit of a Clooney.” And he wags his brows suggestively. If he’s trying to come onto her, it’s not exactly working, but she’s also not completely turned off. This is why they’re good together. After all these years he still knows how to make her laugh.

They’re about a quarter though their takeaway (and she’s so touched that Jared decided to stay home that she doesn’t even say anything about the pork fried rice) when their doorbell sounds.

“I got it, hun,” he says, placing his plate on the coffee table, and grabbing a napkin before greeting the unexpected guest.

Y/n is pleasantly surprised when Penelope falls into the seat beside her. She looks dressed for a date, but the way she blows ferociously into the air, Y/n knows that things haven’t gone her way.

Without asking, Penny helps herself to their food, moaning as she stuffs a spoonful of that same fried rice into her mouth. “If I wasn’t wearing this dress, I would a hundred percent finish this whole thing.”

“You can borrow some clothes,” Y/n offers. Her friend pretends to contemplate, but she’s the first one to stride over into the master bedroom. 

Y/n pulls out a fresh pair of pajamas, and when she turns around, her mouth quirks in a mixture of amusement and suspicion. Under Penny’s dress is the daintiest set of red lace lingerie she’s ever seen. (And she has her fair share of lingerie since she knows it drives Jared wild.)

“Looks like you were in for a sexier evening,” she muses. She tosses Penny the set.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing,” she says. Y/n isn’t quite sure what she means by it, but smirks, nonetheless.  

“Now...” Penny pulls her hair through the hem of the borrowed shirt, “let’s finish off that food, shall we?”

Jared doesn’t say anything when they get back, either too consumed with his egg rolls or not wanting to interject himself into the conversation. Y/n simply kisses him on the cheek as she settles back into her meal. 

She glances at Penny for a moment, and her curiosity becomes overpowering. “Okay, so I wasn’t going to ask, but I feel like I have to now,” she explains. Penny cocks a brow at her. “What happened tonight.”

“He cancelled last minute. I was already at the damn restaurant when he texted saying something came up.” She stabs a piece of orange chicken. “It’s a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.” Typical Penny. It wouldn’t be fair to say that her friend is prone to trust issues, but it does take a little more effort. Ever since Harry had broken up with her back when they were seventeen, she hasn’t kept a relationship for more than a few weeks because she claims she doesn’t want to risk getting her heart broken again.

Harry Styles had broken her best friend’s heart, then disappeared to another country. Y/n hates him for that. She hates that he threw away all those years of friendship without a proper explanation. She hates that he abandoned her, especially when he knew how insecure she is about goodbyes. 

But not every guy is Harry. There are good ones that will stick by you no matter what, like Jared. Y/n reaches over and brushes his bangs away from his eyes. Penny just needs to find her person, and Y/n just knows that once she does, she’ll finally feel right.

“This is that Ahmed guy from the gym, right? I don’t know, Pen. He’s a decent bloke. Maybe something really did happen.”

Penny pulls a face, like she’s just oversaturated her food with soy sauce. “Wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s got baggage, and he won’t accept that he isn’t happy to carry it anymore.”

That last bit sticks to her. 

***

Her job requires her to have both a deep appreciation for art and a mind for marketing strategy. It had been the closest compromise that she and her father had come to when she had started her plight for a degree. 

After spending the last of her year of secondary school having second thoughts about the plausibility of making it in the art world, she decided that maybe her dad was right, after all. He would tell her to be in charge, to take control of her life. That way, she’d never be blindsided by anything. She’s still around the world she loves––the canvas, the acrylics, the community of dreamers who share their passion with the world––just from a more business perspective. The more she reflects on those naïve teenage years, the more she appreciates the direction she’d took. She has the best of both worlds, in her opinion. A steady income, and a building full of paintings and sculptures and history. What more can she ask for?

“Y/n!” She looks over her shoulder, where Angelo, her assistant, waves some a sizeable file in his hands. He gives her a knowing smirk.

“Good news?” she teases.

Angelo hands her the file. “Sales report can confirm.”

She glosses it over, satisfied with the numbers. Looks like she’d inherited more from her dad than just his advice. “And they said Expressionism was dead.” Their last grand showcase had been an ode to the German Expressionism movement. They had drawn criticism in the days leading up to the event because some saw it as outdated. But that’s just ridiculous. Art is art. And while history remains in the past, it doesn’t mean that it can’t be appreciated. Y/n’s vision for the gallery is embrace both the old and the new.

“Degenerates,” Angelo rolls his eyes. “Anyway, Dax, Narsi, and I are thinking Damond’s for lunch. You in?”

She looks down at her watch, and curses under her breath. “Can’t,” she sighs. “I have to interview the new curator in a bit.”

“You work too much,” he says humorously, but they both know there’s truth stitched into his words. He gives a friendly squeeze to her elbow. “Bring you back sandwich?” 

“Please,” she smiles. He gives her a mock salute before turning on his heel. 

When he’s completely out of sight, she lets her lips fall into a frown. She examines her watch again, there’s still a few minutes until their scheduled virtual call. She uses the time to stroll the halls, something she doesn’t really get to do. Well, not for fun, at least. 

Things are currently in transition, and all of the Maximalism works are finding their way onto her walls. She stops in front of one in particular that just screams color. With its carefully planned, yet freeing mixture of patterns and textures, it’s a piece to tickle the brain. 

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes widen. That voice. She feels everything from her body to her unsuspecting heart freeze.

Her grip on her own arm tightens painfully. She thinks she might turn blue from her inability to breathe at this moment. 

“I’ve always liked how much of the artist we can feel. It really captures the complexity of character.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “I agree.” She risks all and looks up, and he’s right there waiting for her. Harry. Her arms drop to her side as she feels herself grow weak.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Hi,” he whispers, then smiles. That smile. She had tried so hard not to think about how it had once been her favorite image. His dimples have caved in deeper, if that’s even possible. And his eyes, they’re the same brilliant green she remembers. “I saw an ad in the paper and thought I’d check it out.”

Something must be strangling her vocal cords because she finds that she’s unable to make a sound. 

***

“And what did you do?” 

Y/n drops her head to the table, not even caring if it’s dirty. With the day she’s had, it’s the least of her problems. “I was in shock! I-I think I might have screamed at him.” 

Ava snorts into her drink. 

There’s not much about earlier that she can clearly recall, but she does remember how she had fled to her car and driven halfway across the city to her sister’s dorm and dragged her to the nearest pub. Why? Because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Why would he just...show up?” she questions. “It makes no sense!”

“Probably got homesick,” Ava shrugs. “Plus, Dad says it’s been in the work–”

“Wait,” Y/n’s head snaps towards her. “Dad knows?”

The younger woman looks at her as if she were insane. “Duh, he’s the one that approved the transfer.”

“But why am I only hearing about this now?” She feels herself heating up with annoyance, anger, and something else that makes her want to pull her hair out. Ava doesn’t respond right away. She looks down at her now empty drink and watches as the ice cubes into water. 

“Well,” she starts, still not bothering to meet her eyes, “ever since he left, he’s been a bit of a taboo subject for you.” 

Her jaw tenses at that, and she sits back in her chair. That’s a bit of an overstatement. Y/n had reacted the way any person would have if put in her situation. She huffs with frustration. “So, what else is everyone hiding from me?”

“This isn’t an intervention, enough with the dramatics,” Ava says.

Y/n’s lips form into a straight line. She looks over the bar and tuts her tongue. “I need another drink,” she mutters. “Where the heck is Penny? She’s supposed to be working tonight.”

***

After Ava had started going to school in the city, her dad had decided to move into the London office full-time in order to be closer to both his girls. And lucky for Y/n, he’s just close enough to get information out of. She visits her dad during her lunch break because she needs answers.

“Dad, we need to talk,” she demands, bursting through his office door without any regard for just about anything. “Explain to me why...”

Matthew Y/l/n tilts his head at her with a raised brow, and the person sitting on the opposite side of his desk has an expression to match.

“Perfect,” she sneers. “We’re all here, then.”

She nearly loses it when Harry choke down a laugh while getting up and offering her his now empty seat. She takes it, but not before she glares at him and his stupid face. 

Her dad looks like he’s been caught in a crossfire, and he calculatingly smooths down his perfectly ironed tie. Harry takes the seat beside hers, except he makes a point to pull it a few inches away.

“So...” her dad practically sings. “Harry’s back!”

“I can see that.” From the corner of her eye, she sees a smirk. “Why are you even here?” 

Harry doesn’t seem offended despite the harsh nature of her tone. He chances a glance at her dad before turning to her. “Work,” is his first answer. He bounces one leg over the other and leans back against the back the seat. His expression softens. “But I guess I just really missed home.”

She thinks that’s bullshit. No decent person would leave everything behind without a second thought. “It took you ten years?”

“I did what I had to do,” he retorts.

“And that was to just disappear?” 

“This isn’t really the place nor time...”

“Then why bother coming back!"

That manages to crack Harry’s calm demeanor. He looks at her as if she had knocked the wind from his lungs. At this point her chest is heaving, as well. She forgets where they are and that her dad is a witness to this outburst. 

“I, uh,” they both turn to Matthew as he tries to find the words to appease the situation. “I was thinking we could all go out for dinner later?” He’s joking, right? He smiles as her, but with that ‘I’m your father and you don’t have much of a say in this’ look in his eyes. “How about you and Jared meet us around...say, seven? Hey, you know what? Bring Penelope, too!”

“Pen–”

Matthew swivels in his chair and practically hops to his feet. He leans down and kisses Y/n on the head. “Got to get to a meeting. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s gone. It leaves her alone with the person she wants nothing more than to get away from.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening to her. There are so many things she feels bombarding her all at once and there’s not one thing she can make sense of. Harry doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s typing something on his phone. His lips are quirked up in an almost-grin, and she can’t help but feel miffed that he has the audacity to pull such a face in her presence when all she can do is glower. 

“I guess we’ll talk later?” he suddenly says. He slips his phone into his pants pocket. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. Like her dad had done, he gets up and starts towards the door. But before she can even hear it graze against the carpeting, he mutters one last thing. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

Her dress squeaks loudly against the leather of her seat because she must have turned too quickly. Their eyes meet, his are difficult to read.

***

“...and I’ve been trying to look for a flat, but the boss works me too hard,” Harry smirks over at Matthew. Her dad lets out a hearty chuckle as he finishes off the last of dessert.

“Well, if you’re really that overworked, it’s not at all obvious,” Penny says with a saucy smile. “Definitely still a catch.” She touches his arm, and Y/n digs her nails into her palm because it makes her feel sick. It’s ridiculous that she’s so bothered by how quickly conversation had flowed between Harry and Penelope. 

Jared has an arm around the back of her chair. He looks bored with the conversation. She can’t tell if he’s irked at Harry (in the same way she is) or because he sees how much her dad likes him. That’s not to say that Jared isn’t well liked by Matthew. He did get his blessing to propose, after all. Yeah, they’ve been engaged for a while now. But so, what? Long engagements are common enough, and it does allow the two participants to fully get to know one another, as well as get close to the important people in their lives. Things just aren’t as smooth between her dad and Jared as she would like, but she supposes that’ll ease over with time. 

“I wouldn’t let my current appearance fool you,” Harry snorts.

“Is that a challenge?” Penny bats her lashes at him. 

Y/n can’t take it anymore. “So!” she interrupts, “Pen, didn’t you go out with that Vogue photographer last night?

Her friend gives her an odd look, but when she sees the rest of the table’s eyes on her, she waves it off. “Oh, yeah. But it didn’t end how I would’ve liked.” She gestures between her legs. “He had a little trouble getting it up.” 

“Penelope Swanton,” Matthew warns, as if she might give him a heart attack. “Parental unit sitting right here.”

Everyone shares a laugh except for Y/n and Jared. The latter just stares at the tablecloth with vague intensity. It’s strange that he hasn’t made a quip all night. He’s usually the one who talks the most...well, besides Penny. 

“Maybe pretty girls scare him,” Harry chuckles. “It happens to the best of us.”

A mischievous glint sparkles in Penny’s eyes. “Do I scare you, Harry?” 

“COFFEE!” Y/n all but screams. “We should order coffee!” She can’t just sit there and watch her friend make the same mistakes all over again. It would be a serious miscarriage of justice is she were to let that happen. 

But she can only stall for so long, and before she knows it, they’re all making their way out of the restaurant. It’s that awkward phase of standing outside and making small talk before someone has the balls to leave. Harry offers Penny a ride, and Y/n has to watch as they get into his car, laughing like he hadn’t broken her heart all those years ago. 

Jared still seems to be in a mood as well, but he plays it off and tells her he’s got a stomachache from the scallops he had as an appetizer. She rubs his back as they wait for the valet to bring their car around, glaring at Harry’s taillights before he turns onto the road. 

***

Y/n manages to not think about Harry for a few weeks. With the newest exhibit opening up, it’s kept her body and mind busy. By the time she gets home, she’s tired and all she wants is to put her feet up and watch reruns of Downton Abbey.

The doorbell rings, and she can’t help but groan because she was just getting comfortable. She looks through the peephole, then shakes her head knowingly. She pulls the door open.

“Don’t you have work?” she asks playfully, but she wishes she could take it back when she sees the broken look painted across Penny’s face. “Oh my god, are you alright?” She guides her friend into the apartment and sits her down on the couch.

Penny suddenly bursts into tears, her face falling into her hands as though she were hiding her shame. Not wanting to distress her further, Y/n gathers her in her arms and lets her cry it out. They’ve been through a lot together, and in all their years of friendship, she’s never seen her look so somber as she does now.  

She strokes her hair, whispering her reassurance even though she’s left in the dark. Penny breaks from her hug and wipes her eyes with her knuckles before looking at her with misty eyes. “I’m...” but she starts blubbering, and nothing coherent can be understood. Y/n waits patiently until she can speak. “I’m pregnant.” 

Y/n feels the color drain from her face while her head fills worry. She can’t decide who she’s worried more about, Penny or her baby. Penny is an adult is capable of making her own decisions, but she can also be reckless. She can barely pay her rent on time and her work schedule isn’t the best either. A baby would mean growing up, but Y/n knows that Penny’s still trying to figure things out. 

Then, the inevitable question bubbles in her throat. “How far along?” Penny sniffles. “About six weeks.”

Y/n feels awful that the first thing she feels is relief. Not Harry’s. “And the father?” 

“I can’t tell him,” Penny cries, she lays her head in Y/n’s lap. “He’s...he has a...” She doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Y/n to understand.

“Penny...” her tone is every bit of disappointed. 

***

She accompanied Penny to her first appointment to the OB-GYN this morning, and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat had been enough to drive both women to tears. It was beautiful, and the look in Penny’s eyes said all that they could. Sure, Y/n had worried about her when she first learned of the pregnancy, but that had immediately changed with just that one look. 

One day, Y/n hopes to have children of her own. She and Jared have opened up the topic a few times, but they never seem to be on the same page when it comes to starting a family. He claims it’s because his job’s hours are too crazy to juggle an infant. He’s the physical therapist for the National Football team, which means he has to go with them on away games. Deep down, however, Y/n thinks he’s afraid that he’ll end up the way his father did. She wants to tell him that’s ridiculous, but she always has to walk on eggshells about that. 

It’s okay, though. Until she and Jared can come to an agreement, she has no qualms over spoiling her new niece or nephew. Auntie Y/n. She likes the sound of that. So much, in fact, that she finds herself outside of a baby boutique on the high street. She wonders if Penny will be having a boy or a girl. 

“So cute!” she smiles to herself when she sees all the onesies on the mini mannequins. Would it be too early to plan Penny’s baby shower? She’s so lost in hypothetical party planning that she doesn’t notice see body before they collide, and warm liquid misses her shoes by mere centimeters. 

“I’m so sorry!” she rushes out an apology. There’s an unflattering brown stain on his otherwise perfect white button-up. She grabs for her wallet in her purse, hoping to at least pay for the damages, but stops when she gets a good look at him.

“You.” 

The world must really have it out for her. Harry looks down at his tainted shirt. “Nice seeing you too.” 

“Sorry,” she says again. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Head in the clouds?” he muses, shaking his sleeve of the last remaining drops of coffee.

She smiles tightly. “Just window shopping.”

He looks at the store in front of them, and his head snaps towards her. “Are you...?”

“No,” she replies immediately. “A friend of mine.”

For some reason, his shoulders seem to relax. He’s still incredibly handsome, though she never doubted that that would ever change. Under his wet shirt, she notices a sizeable few tattoos inked onto his chest. The sight intrigues her, and she has to stop herself from reaching out and tracing them with her finger. 

“Let me pay for your dry-cleaning,” she says, tearing her eyes away from his body. 

Harry shakes his head. “There’s no need, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” She really doesn’t want to be in his debt. “I’d feel better if I could make it up to you somehow.”

“No, really. It’s fine.” Why is he so stubborn?

“I insist.” 

He studies her for a moment. She imagines that she can see the gears turning as he thinks. 

“I’m actually on my way to a viewing, and well...I’m not really sure what to look for.”

She replays his words in her head. “So, you want me to...help you pick out an apartment?” That can’t be right.

“My car’s just over there,” he points with his chin. “What do you say?”

Alarms are sounding in her head, each one screaming a different command between her ears. A part of her is saying it’s a bad idea, that she should stand her ground and stay mad at him because of what he had done. On the other hand, the rest of her––the biggest part of her––wants to indulge in the feeling she has when she’s with him. It’s a crazy mix of fury and joy that isn’t entirely unbearable. 

“Fine,” she concedes, and she brushes past him and starts towards his car. “But only because I feel bad about the shirt.” She doesn’t dare look back. She slides into the passenger seat and buckles herself in. Her stomach is doing cartwheels beneath her high-waisted pants. 

Harry gets into the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the engine right away. He pulls his jacket off and places it neatly on the console. What he does next makes her regret getting out of bed this morning. Her mouth dries as he undoes every button of his shirt and reveals the tattoos she’d been fantasizing about earlier.

“Do-do you mind?” She feels her cheeks heat up, and she turns to the window in hopes to find a distraction. 

“Well, I’m not going to talk business looking like I’ve just been bullied by a barista.”

“That’s completely beside the point!” 

“Well, you can look now, Mother Teresa,” he says smugly. She hesitantly cranes her neck back. He’s now sporting a similar shirt, but this time, it’s dark grey. “See?”

She huffs, then mutters something under her breath. He smiles at her, like he’s just dying to tease her, but ultimately decides not to. She just glares straight ahead.

“Just drive the damn car.”

***

“And this unit is complete with its own balcony which overlooks the Thames,” Mariette, Harry’s real-estate agent says to the both of them. “It sets the mood nicely, don’t you think? And it happens to be very popular with our younger couples.” She sends them a not-so-subtle wink. 

Y/n feels herself flush, and she ducks into the kitchen and pretends to inspect the marble countertop. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says. He doesn’t seem to be paying that much attention, or if he is, he’s really good at hiding his own embarrassment. Y/n wonders if he’s just humoring the over-zealous agent. After all, he was never the type to correct someone over silly little details. 

Mariette tells them to walk around, get a feel for the place, before excusing herself to make a phone call. Y/n follows Harry up the stairs where all the bedrooms are. There are three, and the master bedroom has its own ensuite toilet and bath.

“What do you think?” Harry asks her.

She glances at the view from the window. It’s beautiful, gorgeous even. The building itself is in one of the nicer parts of town, where the congested London traffic wouldn’t take away from its overall aura. She can already picture him spending the mornings on the balcony with a cup of tea and a book or passed out on a king-sized mattress in the bedroom after a long day of work.

“It’s nice,” she answers truthfully. “But it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Harry looks at her like she’s spewing nonsense. “I asked for your input, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. But at the end of the day, it’s your home. Not mine. You might not even stay around long enough to enjoy it.” The look on his face when she lets that last part slip out makes her wish she had just shut her mouth. She leaves him in the bedroom and heads into the hall. She needs to get away. Why couldn’t she have just given him a simple answer? Why does she continue to open up old wounds that she knows she’ll never be able to close? 

Before she can get far, however, his fingers curl around her shoulder. He swallows thickly behind her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Until now, he hadn’t apologized. She hadn’t expected him to, and now she isn’t sure how to take it. This should vindicate her, but all she wants to do is curl up and close herself off from the world, even for a little while.

She looks down to her feet, and as though on cue, her eyes begin to fill with tears. Her hand quickly lands on her mouth to muffle a sob.

He turns her towards him, holding her by the waist. In a split-second, she’s wrapped in his arms. She tries to pull away, but her body is too unwilling to lose his familiar warmth. 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” she whimpers against his shirt.

His chest heaves. “Because if I did, I’d never be able to leave.” His words shake her.

She pulls away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “But what about me?” she asks. “Harry, you were my best friend, and you just treated me like I meant nothing to you.” It made her feel like nothing. Apparently, she’s an easy person to leave behind. First it was her mother, then the person she trusted most. She couldn’t tell you which had broken her more.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Scoffing, “A bit late for that, no?”

“Then let me make it up to you,” his plea is coated with desperation. Every bit of him shines with sincerity that she wishes she could ignore. His touch burns her through her clothes like blue flames. Body and mind are rekindling, and now that she remembers what it feels like to be close to him, she can’t see a version of herself that doesn’t want him back in her life.

“I don’t know if I believe in second chances,” she says softly. His grip on her loosens substantially, and there’s a sudden fear that he’ll let go. “But,” she continues, “you’ll be my first.”

It’s a bone-crushing, heart-enlarging hug, and it leaves her feeling happier than she’s felt in a long time.

***

They’re not the same two kids who would spend every waking moment together, but this is the closest they’ll ever get in adult life.

Harry visits her on her lunch breaks and lets her bounce marketing strategies off of him whilst they walk the gallery. Just like her dad, he has a well-versed business mind. It feels good to be able to talk to him again. It’s like a part of herself has risen after years of sleep and is finally seeing the light of day. Under the fancy suits and numerous tattoos, he’s still the same guy who can listen to her talk for hours without fail.

She’s even had him over for dinner at her and Jared’s place. At first, she was afraid that things would be tense between the two of them, after all, Jared hadn’t talked much during their dinner nearly a month back. To her delight, however, they seemed to pick up where they left off, and spent majority of the night talking sports and all that ‘man’ talk that she can never be bothered to understand. 

If a month ago she had felt empty, she can proudly admit that she’s starting to fill up.

***

When Penny announces that the baby is a girl, Y/n is probably the most excited. She visits the baby boutique she’d been browsing some days ago and buys a rubber duckie onesie with a matching headband, along with four other matching sets.

“You really shouldn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Penny scolds her.

Y/n waves her off. There shouldn’t be any of that nonsense. She likes being able to spoil her best friend’s future child. “I want to. Just humor me, okay? I’m aiming for Auntie of the Year.” She lays all the rest of the outfits on Penny’s sofa.

“It’s true,” Harry adds. “She’s already had the bib made.” Y/n flips him off but is far too delighted by all the pretty patterns to come up with a proper retort. Rather, she tries to sweep Penny into conversation about a real baby shower (and not just the one she’d planned in her head), discussing potential guests and a wish list that she should start setting up on Amazon.

Jared and Penny give each other a look, and the way the former’s jaw tenses doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry but completely goes over Y/n’s head.  

***

“Why don’t you put any of your own work on display?” Harry asks her one day.

“Honestly?” she sighs, “I haven’t actually made anything in...well, almost a decade.”

His jaw drops. “I don’t think I heard you right, a decade?” 

The same amount of time you’ve been gone, she thinks to herself. Of course, now that they’re back to being friends, she would never say it out loud. 

***

Nan had called her up and asked if she and Ava would drive up to Holmes Chapel and help her sort out all the things to donate. They try to visit their grandparents every few months because they are getting to the age where they won’t be around for long. Although, Nan will tell anyone with ears that she’s stronger than she was in her twenties due to her weekly spin classes at the community center. Meanwhile, Gramps is still the same as ever. He still sits in front of the TV and watches highlights of games he’s got recorded on the DV-R, and accidentally knocks over Nan’s petunia’s when he backs the car out of the garage. 

Her childhood bedroom is also how she had left it. Sure, her teenage years had called for a bit of renovation, but underneath posters of her favorite actors and boy bands are the youthful stickers Nan had put up when they had first arrived. 

She rummages through her closet, throwing old clothes in good condition into her donation basket. There are even some that were never worn, and she debates whether she’d be able to use any of it, but ultimately decides against it.  

The top shelf is full of empty shoe boxes and other things she had carelessly thrown up there. Her old sketchbook falls open, face down, at her feet. 

She picks it up and is greeted by the same sketch that had won her first prize in the art show all those years ago when she was fifteen. Her fingers graze over the pencil lines, and it’s like being reacquainted with an old friend. She had spent months on this one drawing, and it had turned out to be her greatest piece to date (the actual painting is still being preserved at the school).

“You know, I always thought that boy looked like Anne’s boy,” Nan says nonchalantly. Y/n hadn’t even heard her come in. 

“What?” Y/n stares intently at the paper. “You think so?”

Ava practically skips in. “Oh, gossiping, are we?” She sounds just like Nan. Y/n can’t help the roll of her eyes. 

“I was just telling your sister about how that painting of hers up at the school looks a lot like Harry.”

“Is it not supposed to?” Ava seems genuinely confused. 

“I mean...it wasn’t actually based on anyone in particular,” Y/n says, feeling the need to defend herself. “It was just...something I envisioned in my head.” She turns back to her closet, leaving Nan and Ava to carry on their conversation on her bed. 

Reaching her arm up high, she feels around the shelf until she pokes something soft. When she brings it down, she can’t help but grin. Freddo. She had almost forgotten about him. After Harry had left, she had gone on a bit of a rampage, and any reminder of him had fallen victim to the trash or banishment to the top shelf.

Nan must notice her smile because she comes up and cradles her from behind and rests her chin on her shoulder. “It’s funny,” she says, and Y/n looks back at her expectantly. “I also thought that you two would end up together, but I guess I was off by a bit, huh?” She kisses Y/n on the cheek and calls for Ava to follow her downstairs.

Y/n stares at the toy as though it held some sort of secret.

***

She’s lucky she’s home by herself––Jared is off at the pub for his and Sid’s weekly meet-up––because now she has time to unwind and be as antisocial as she wants. Work had been stressful, mostly because the exhibit is set to open next week. And really, all she wants is to be under her favorite blanket with a cup of hot chocolate and just be dead to the world.

Even though she thinks that, however, she can’t help but tap on her phone screen every few minutes. Sure, she likes the time alone, but she also likes being needed. Ava says it’s a control thing, but she really just prefers to be in the know. Lately, Penny’s been spamming her with messages and phone calls about the baby or sometimes it’ll be for a little reassurance. Of course, she’s more than happy to support her. It’s brave of Penny to tackle this alone. The baby’s father is completely out of bounds, so she’s told, and Penny says she’d rather her baby grow up with just a mother than in some dysfunctional setup.

Speaking of dysfunction, she hasn’t been able to properly think straight ever since her visit with Nan. What the elderly woman had told her hadn’t exactly shocked her, per say, but it did have her rethink some of the interactions between her and Harry. It’s ridiculous, really. They’d been best friends since she was eight and he was nine. They know each other’s ins and outs, likes and dislikes, what makes the other laugh and cry. They’re simply comfortable. 

Okay. Maybe there had been times where she thought that the possibility of something more was on the table, but that quickly proved to be all in her imagination. She had her boyfriends and he had his girlfriends. She fell in love with his cousin, and he dated her other best friend. Then he left town.

Then he left.

***

Abandoning her original plans for the night, Y/n finds herself at his door. 

“Hey,” he greets her, but his warm smile falters when he takes note of her appearance. “What’s with the look? Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, she’s too taken by the image of him and the way her heart feels like it might burst from her chest to comprise a full sentence. He doesn’t push her, though. He fishes into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a shapely object wrapped in purple foil. “I-uh, I don’t eat chocolate that much anymore, but they don’t have these in America, so I’ve been snacking on a few of these a week.” It lands itself in her hand. “Just like when we were kids, right?”

It’s a Freddo. A fucking Freddo. Her fingers curl around it.

“You once asked me if I thought that things should’ve been different,” she says. “What did you mean by that?”

Harry doesn’t answer. She tries again.

“Why did you leave, Harry?"

“It’s been so long, I don’t even remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.” She takes one step closer. He evades her eyes, like he’s afraid they’ll speak on their own. Her stomach tightens because it’s all starting to make sense. His words. That embrace. These feelings that have always existed between them. “You left because of me.”

It’s not a question, but a sure statement. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. She slides a hand up to his cheek, forcing him to look at her. When he finally does, she’s sees it. And her gut says it’s not the first time. 

It’s heartache. 

She knows because she sees it every time she looks in the mirror. It’s taken her this long to realize it. That hollow feeling that’s been consuming her, it disappeared the day Harry Styles walked back into her life. Once the anger over what he’d done had subsided, she’s felt nothing but joy since. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She wants to scream. 

“You made him happy,” is all he says, almost regretfully. “I couldn’t take that away from him.”

“So, you didn’t even consider how I felt? Harry, I would’ve...would’ve–”

“And that’s why I had to leave!” He wipes both hands down his face in frustration. “We would’ve ended up hurting two people we cared too much about.”

“You don’t know that–”

“If I had tried to kiss you that night, would you have let me?” His gaze bores into her. 

Yes. The voice within her screams it over and over. He must already know her answer because he just smiles sadly at the floor. This is why he had done it. He knew that if he had stayed any longer, it would have only been a matter of time before they gave into each other. 

It makes her sick. 

“I figured if I just took myself out the equation, the rest of you would be spared the heartbreak.” He sighs. “And it worked. You and Jared are about to start a life together, Penny’s got her baby. You’re happy.”

She wants to counter him, but she can’t find the strength. “What about you?” she whispers instead.

He tilts his head to the side. “I came back to prove to myself that I could be happy for you.” His jaw slackens, and he doesn’t continue.

She’s toe to toe with him. “And are you?”

The next thing she knows, her back is against the wall, and her fingers are tangled in his hair. His lips feed her, makes her blood come alive like she’s never lived until now. She kisses him with everything she has. Every drop of anger and every ounce of emotion that burns through her veins. His hands keep her body as close to his as possible, yet, they feel so gentle as they caress her curves like she’s made of glass. It feels so right.

And it shouldn’t. 

Just as sudden as it had started, she pushes him away. He doesn’t fight her. Without another word, she leaves his apartment.

*** When she makes it home, Jared is about to get ready for bed. She drops her clothes to the floor, and his soon follow. They fall onto the bed, his teeth gnawing down her jaw while his hand slides down to cup her heat. He asks her if she’s ready once his member is nudged against her opening. She nods, and he pushes into her, just as he’s done many times before.

She tries her best to focus on how good this should feel to have him inside of her, but the more he moves, the more she feels like this is all a mistake. It feels all too similar to when she had given him her virginity. It happened the night after Harry had skipped town. She was upset and wanted to feel something aside from the pain he had caused her. Jared had been there, and things had soon escalated. But it didn’t feel right. Her heart wasn’t in it, and so her body couldn’t give itself the relief it had been searching for.

It hasn’t felt like that since, or maybe she had gotten better at hiding it, just as she’s done with everything else. She had hoped that sex with Jared would put her mind and her heart back into perspective, but instead, she feels even more helpless.

One kiss with Harry had meant more to her than any of this. It fills her with shame because shouldn’t want to be with anyone except Jared, especially when all he’s ever done is love her. 

She doesn’t realize it’s over until he rolls off her with a content sigh, then stumbles into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him, and it’s then she feels the tears start to fill the rim of her eyes. Her thighs clasp together as her humiliation fully sets in. She turns on her side and covers her naked body with the blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed. Jared returns minutes later, mumbling a goodnight. If he has something else to say, he doesn’t. It takes to the count of five for him to drift to sleep. 

***

“I need to cancel the engagement,” she says. Ava gives her a circumspect shrug of the shoulders, like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. Y/n turns to her, hands twiddling the fingers in her lap from stress. “What do you think I should do?”

Ava looks at her, the pity is obvious on her face. “I don’t know, sis.” She rubs her back. “Are you going to tell Jared about you and Harry?”

“I have to.”

***

She doesn’t have the opportunity to talk to Jared until the night of the exhibit opening since he’d been in Spain on a team trip. It’s eating her up, how she hasn’t told him yet, but at least by the end of today she’ll no longer be holding on to something so big. He had promised to come straight to the gallery once he landed back at Heathrow. His flight was set to get in two hours ago, so it’s only a matter of time now. 

More and more people are starting to fill the floor. Most are patrons whom she sees frequently at these events, but there are some new faces mixed in the crowd. She’s lucky that Ava and her grandparents are here to support her, especially when she’ll probably need them afterwards. 

“Hey, don’t look so nervous,” Nan tells her. “The place looks great. You know, I overheard that guy in the red Chanel that he’s interested in buying.” Bless her, Y/n thinks. Nan’s always had a way of diffusing the tension, even when she isn’t aware of it. 

“I’m happy you guys are here,” Y/n says, and she brings her friend in for a hug. 

Nan gives her a confused smile. “Of course, we’re here. We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she proudly declares, and she elbows Gramps in the ribs when he doesn’t contribute. “Honestly, try to look a little alive.”

“I put on a tie, didn’t I?” Gramps rolls his eyes, but then he sends Y/n a wink.  

“Where’s Penelope this evening?” Nan asks, scanning the room, brows furrowing. Y/n feels a sweat break out. She just hopes that Penny will understand when she finds out about her feelings for her ex-boyfriend. It’s been years, sure, but there has to be some kind of friendship code that prohibits this sort of thing. “And where’s that fiancé of yours? He should be here with you.”

“Probably just got stuck in traffic,” Y/n says, but honestly, she’s reveling the extra time she has to prepare.

Nan hooks arms with Ava and Gramps, and they walk the floor while Y/n greets a few of her guests. Her dad is one of them, no surprise there. He pecks her on the side of the head and lets out a perplexed sound as he gazes at all the art. 

“I feel like I should understand this kind of thing by now,” he muses, gesturing to the portrait of naked man made from duct tape and spoons. “Anything after 2003 is lost to me. I just don’t get it.”

“Are you proud of me?” Y/n shocks herself with the question.

Matthew looks stunned himself. “Why would you ask something like that? You know that I am.” He pulls her aside, so they have a little more privacy. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” There’s worry in his eyes. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she appeases, “I just wanted to hear it.” Her dad doesn’t respond but hugs her tight. They stay like that for a moment, she’s always felt safe in his arms, until she feels them loosen around her. She looks up at him, his look somewhere else. When she follows it, her heart skips a beat.

“Harry!” Matthew takes his hand and shakes it. “I haven’t seen you in a full two hours!” 

The younger man lets out a slight chuckle. “It’s been unbearable. I just can’t keep away.” He turns to her. “Congratulations.” 

A nod is all she can afford. 

Matthew looks between the two of them, and their situation feels almost familiar. He coughs into his hand and excuses himself as he chases a waiter down the west wing. 

“Can we talk?” Harry asks her. 

She purses her lips to the side. There’s so much she wants to say to him, but she’s afraid of what she might do. 

Against her better judgement, she leads him into her office. She leaves the door open behind her in the off chance that things intensify. She doesn’t need any more guilt on her plate. (But she wishes he wasn’t wearing such a properly fit suit. It’s far too distracting for the seriousness of the situation.)

Leaning against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, she waits for him to speak. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It was both our doing,” she stresses. If you asked her who had kissed who first, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. “We just...got caught up in the moment.” I let my heart dictate my actions.

He looks hurt by her words but doesn’t press her on it. “I should’ve stopped it. I always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you, and when it happened, I...” He shakes his head, and she’s thankful that he’ll never finish that sentence. She’s already heard it in her mind. Hearing out loud would cause both of them too much agony.

“I know,” she rasps. “I can’t stand here and say that I didn’t want it, but–”

“you don’t want to hurt him.” She smiles appreciatively, though, sadly. In another life, maybe they would have a chance. This one doesn’t have a place for them. Even if she ends things with Jared, it doesn’t erase the fact that they’re family. She could never start anything with Harry without him getting hurt. It’s a matter of acceptance now. 

This must have been what Harry had been feeling when he had left. As much as it hurts to remember, she thinks she at least understands it better. 

“I need air,” she says, not wanting to entertain those thoughts further, “join me?” She grabs her phone from her desk. It’s getting late, and she’s starting to worry about Jared. 

They leave her office and start towards the back door that some of her staff use when they want a smoke. She usually avoids it for that reason, but it was getting too stuffy in there. Her lungs will forgive her if she takes this one moment to herself. Her screen unlocks, and just as she’s about to press on her fiancé’s name, Harry pushes the door open and she looks up as the evening breeze brushes her face and then...

“What the hell is this?” She drops her phone to the ground. 

Jared and Penny pull away from each other, but the space between them is nearly nonexistent. The latter meets her with scared eyes that soon begin to fill up. One hand covers her mouth as she chokes on a sob or maybe even fear, while the other clasps over her swollen belly. Y/n’s eyes drift down to it. It clicks. 

“Y/n...” Jared starts, he’s breathing heavily. “Let me–”

“That’s why you couldn’t tell me his name,” she says shakily. It’s directed at Penelope. “You couldn’t tell me because it was him.” The night Penelope had come over unannounced after her alleged date cancellation at the same time Jared had cancelled his own plans. “I’ll make sure he knows what he’s missing.” And that’s exactly what she had done, and right under her nose. They’d have been sneaking around behind her back for months.

“We d-didn’t mean for it to get this far...” Penny tries to explain, she steps out from behind Jared’s shadow. The usually confident blonde has lost several inches of height. She says something else, but it’s like Y/n’s just drowned out all the noise. Her eyes still haven’t left Penelope’s stomach. 

She wants to hate her. She should hate her. But she’s just an innocent victim caught in her parents’ web of lies. Then she grits her teeth at Jared. How far he’s fallen from the pedestal she’d put him on. Now she’s certain that she had inflated his image in her spiraling guilt for having feelings for another man. To think that only minutes ago she was about to plead for his forgiveness for kissing Harry, when all this time he’d been fucking her closest friend. 

“Jared,” his name weighs like venom on her tongue, “I want you out of the apartment by tonight.”

She just runs. Down the alleyway, ignoring all the calls of her name behind her. Harry’s voice is by far the loudest. There’s a thud, followed by a scream. However tempted she is to look back, her legs have developed a mind of their own and lead her towards the busy sidewalk. The bright streetlights burn her eyes, but she doesn’t stop.

She keeps going until she finds the first empty cab. Getting in without a second to hesitate, she closes the door and tells the man behind the wheel to just go. 

“Where to?” he asks her. Her first instinct is to go home and lock herself in her room, but she realizes that she’ll probably have to confront Jared again, and that’s not going to happen. Her second and third options are still at the gallery, completely oblivious to all the night’s revelations. There’s just one other person on that list, so Y/n gives the driver the address. 

***

It takes less than twenty minutes for her to end up in front of a building with bright blue doors and window panels to match. She climbs the steps, one wobbly footstep at a time, but only hesitating once. Her knuckles curl at her sides, until lifting them up to knock against the heavy wood. Light from inside peeks through the curtains.

A woman appears in the open threshold, that faint light from inside creating a halo around her figure. She looks unreal, like something straight out of a storybook. Her ethereal face just as kind as Y/n remembers. It’s the most immaculate she’s ever been. 

Y/n feels herself lose the battle with the emotions she had managed to keep on leash from just one look from her. 

With a whimper, her mouth struggle with the words. “Hi, Mum.”

***

Grace sets her up in the guest room and supplies her with a cup of tea and biscuits. As she’s setting it down on the bedside table, Y/n can’t help but take note of her appearance. It’s been nearly twenty years since she had last seen her mother, but why is that she’s never looked younger? Her eyes no longer have the eternal vacancy that had highlighted her once slack expression. 

She looks happy. 

“Thank god I did the shopping earlier this week, huh?” Grace muses, opening up a new pack of biscuits. Each word to leave her lips feels smooth against her ears. “I’ve developed a bit of a sweet tooth in my old age.” Y/n doesn’t know if she appreciates her efforts to make conversation, but it does give her time to think about what exactly she wants to say. 

They drink their tea in hushed sips, like they’re afraid that any loud slurping might cause some offence. Y/n stares down into the contents of her cup, annoyed that it’s the perfect color. A part of her had wished that she could find something to fault her with. 

“So,” Grace hums, tapping melodically on the porcelain in her hands. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”

Y/n barely lifts her head as her hands strangle the air with frustrated rigidness. “I’ve spent my entire life trying not to become you.” From her decision to follow her dad’s wishes, to keeping appearances for a relationship that she now knows was destined for destruction, she’d made every choice for everyone else. 

Grace doesn’t respond, but her mouth parts with a staggered breath. 

“I wanted to believe that I was happy. I wanted to do what you never did because I didn’t want to hurt the people I was supposed to love.” All the years she’d never confronted these feelings have ultimately resulted to this. “You broke us,” she says, staring her directly in the eyes. “You ruined every image I had of love.” The anxiousness that had put her through hell had to come from this. The truth is, she couldn’t break it off with Jared because she didn’t want to hurt him in the same way that her mother had hurt her dad. That’s it. She ignored every gut feeling that told her it wasn’t right because of the bitterness she felt towards her mother.   

“The choices we make aren’t genetic,” Grace says softly.

“Aren’t they, though?” she shrieks. She bounces to her feet and paces in front of the bed. “Penelope’s mother was the other woman, and now Penelope is pregnant with my fiancé’s baby! You ran away from your family because you couldn’t forget him.” 

By that, she means her mother’s new husband, the one she had left them for. It had been during her last year at university that Y/n had discovered the truth. He had been her professor for her art history class. She recognized him from a picture she had once seen in her mother’s jewelry box. She just hadn’t put two and two together until then. “And I...I can’t forget the person I’ve loved since I was eight. What makes us different, Mum?”

Grace holds her chin close to her body. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But tell me this. Why haven’t you planned your wedding?”

This causes Y/n’s pacing to cease. She stands at her mother’s knees, blinking rapidly. “How would you know anything that goes on with me?”

Her mother stands up as well. They’re about the same height.  

“I know it’ll make never make up for what I did but believe me. I’ve never stopped trying to be in your lives...even if it was from afar.” Her hand is shaking as she reaches up to cup Y/n’s cheek so she can wipe away her tears. “I was there when you won all your art shows back in school. I was there when you graduated university.” She’s crying her own tears now. “And I was excited for you when you got engaged three years ago.” 

Y/n doesn’t let herself give in. She pulls away. “It was supposed to be a long engagement.”

“Is that what you keep telling yourself?” Grace looks at her pointedly. Y/n’s bottom lip starts to quiver. Her mother grasps her by the shoulders. “Maybe that’s what makes you different from me. You stopped pretending before it was too late, you just hadn’t realized it.”

“Is that supposed to make me a good person?” Y/n challenges. 

“No,” Grace answers honestly, but she sighs with a small smile. “But it makes you a better person than me.”

***

She doesn’t recall ever falling asleep, but she can still feel her mother’s hand stroking her hair as she had laid her head on the pillow. The morning sun shines through the curtains of the unfamiliar room and greet her with slithers of light by her feet. Waking up here feels strange, but she’s experienced comfort that she hasn’t felt in so long.

The rug-lined steps make little to no sound as she makes her way downstairs. From the bottom, she can hear two voices talking in hushed tones from the kitchen. One is unmistakably her mothers, while the other is deep and manly. She isn’t sure how to make approach them, suddenly feeling self-conscious for having intruded. But soon enough, her mum catches sight of her and invites her to take the stool beside her. Y/n walks in, passing her mother’s husband, who smiles kindly at her. She had liked him as a professor before she had found about his private life.

“Good morning,” Grace says. “Lawrence’s just been to the bakery.” She pushes a box full of a variety of goodies. “Eat as much as you want.”

Y/n picks up a croissant and gingerly pulls it apart. She avoids how her mother and her husband gage in her every movement. 

“Did you sleep well?” It’s Lawrence who asks her. She nods. Lawrence and her mother share a look, and through their eyes they seem to converse. It reminds her a lot of how she and Harry had always been able to tell what the other was thinking without having to verbalize. Lawrence finishes up his cup of coffee, then circles around the island and kisses his wife on the cheek. “I’m just going to pop to the store,” he says. She catches the back of his head before he disappears. 

“I thought you said you had just done the shopping?” Y/n asks her mother. The older woman shrugs, continuing to pick at her breakfast. Oh. She sees that there’s apparently more to talk about. Y/n does in fact have a few more questions she wants to ask, if anything more than to talk to someone who knows what she’s going through. She takes a deep breath. “Are you happy?” The words feel awkward as they leave her mouth. Grace looks at her, questioningly. She nods towards the door. “With him?”

“Yes.” 

Y/n’s heart breaks for her father. 

“He’s my best friend,” Grace says dreamily. “I’ve known him all my life. Loved him about the same.” Y/n feels goosebumps startle her skin.

“So,” Y/n treads cautiously, “was he worth it?”

“There are things that I would have done differently when it came to you and your sister, given the chance,” her mother sighs, but when she looks at her with those eyes that are so full of light and what she guesses must only be love, Y/n gets it. “But otherwise I’d choose him all over again.”

***

She knocks impulsively on his front door, not caring if his new neighbors think she’s out of her mind insane. Her limbs are tight with anticipation, especially when she hears the scuffle of feet against well-polished hardwood. Harry stands in the open doorway dressed in a white t-shirt and black joggers, and an adorably confused look floating in his sleepy eyes. But when he registers her before him, it’s like he’d been hit by lightning and suddenly jolted awake.

“Has anything changed?” she asks, almost pleadingly. He just stares at her, frustrating her already exhausted nerves. She hadn’t come all this way after a rollercoaster of a night to not get an answer. “Am I...Am I still all that’s in...” And rests her hand where his heart is.

Her own heart leaps in her chest when his dimples emerge from his cheeks. He lays his own hand over hers, stepping towards her but also pulling her incredibly close. “It’s always been you.” 

And no words have ever made her cry out of shear joy. She laughs, or maybe it’s more of a wet giggle, before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him in for a scorching kiss. Unlike their first kiss, this one is filled solely with everything they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel. He nips on her bottom lip, and her mouth parts and welcomes his tongue to explore every unchartered inch. He grasps her both her thighs and carries her to his bedroom. 

She can’t believe she’s gone this long without knowing his touch. Every movement of against her skin, and every exploration of forbidden pleasure makes her stomach coil and beg for more. He lays her down on his bed, his body hovering over hers like he’s afraid she might slip away. 

He leans in a little lower, and she gasps when she feels him hard against her hip. “We don’t have to do anything,” he gulps, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’ve been through a lot, and I just want you to know that–” but he doesn’t get to finish because she shuts him up with the fire in her eyes. She loves him for everything he is, even when he’s being selfless to a fault. 

“We’ve waited too long for this,” she breathes against his lips. “Let’s choose us.” 

A low throaty moan surges from of her as he grinds himself against her, sending currents of electrifying energy down to her aching entrance. Her mind becomes cloudier with his every caress. His hot breath against her longing flesh only intensifies her need.

“Please,” she begs, fingers working on the hem of his shirt. “I want you. God, please I want to feel you.” 

He chuckles softly as she whines, pecking her again. “Patience, love,” he teases. His lips glide down to her ear, his breath sending shivers down her inflamed body. “Show me where you want me.” 

Taking reign of his hand and guiding down the front of her front, she smirks at him. His pants become unbelievably tight as she lets him linger over her chest, her head falling back when the warmth of his hand flicks over her pebbled nipple. “You want me between your pretty little tits? Is that what my girl wants?” His girl. Nothing in this moment could sound so perfect than the words to have just left his lips. It’s enough for her to want to bring him in for another impassioned kiss, but she restrains, shaking her head mischievously as he squeezes gently on her breast. She leads him further down, his palm sliding down her abdomen. 

“Here.” She slots her fingers through the spaces between his and their tips graze the base of her dress, toying with the flimsy material until finally slipping beneath. He groans as his skin comes into contact with her pussy emanating all that delicious heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” She rubs against him just enough for him to feel her center through her panties, and he swears to her that he might come then and there. Wasting no time, she pulls his shirt over her head, only breaking their kiss to appreciate all the tattoos on his sculpted chest. When she’d seen them before, it had only been for a quick few seconds, and she’d been far too flustered to take anything more than a peek. But now she can’t help herself, and she lets her fingers dance across the ink, the point of her nails tracing over the edge of every design. She spends the most time on the moth, or maybe it’s a butterfly, she couldn’t say. 

All she knows is that something about it makes her feel at peace, like she’ll always be safe as long as he's there beside her. She tears her eyes away from his chest to find him looking at her as though she were everything that’s right with the world. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and she just beams, eyes looking back at him with such sincerity. 

He kisses the side of her mouth before descending along her body He takes his time, his lips pressing over every possible inch of her, leaving no surface neglected. Where his hands had been prior, he takes an erect mound in his mouth, tongue swirling around in through its covering. Each touch leaves her breathless, her back arching in intense anticipation the further down he goes. When his nose nudges at the bottom of her skirt, she lets out another frustrated whine, and he chuckles softly at how her abdomen sucks in as the stubble on his chin prickles goosebumps across her skin. 

“Please, just. . .” and the final remains of her inhibitions drain from the tips of her fingers and toes. “I want your cock inside me.” 

“Christ, you’ve got a filthy mouth.” And he tears her dress from her body and pulls her panties down her silky legs, leaving her completely bare before his eyes. From a pale green, the color of his irises darkens with a fierce and pounding desire. It sends vibrations down to her pussy and all she wants is for him to bury his face in her dripping arousal. She bites harshly on her lip once he licks between her slick folds. “So sweet,” he mutters, his lips slipping through the barriers to find her sensitive little nub. “I could just stay here forever.”

“Harry. . .” she gasps, fisting the sheets as her hips lift off the mattress. “It feels so good.” Her legs hang over his shoulders as he encourages her to ride his face until she’s begging to release all over his tongue. “Oh god, don’t stop.” 

One of his long fingers that had been drawing small little circles on the inner part of her thigh smooths over her damp skin until it forges its way into her glistening heat. The other hand moves down his own figure, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding past the waistband of his boxers. 

As the knot in her stomach twists with tremendous force, it pushes her closer and closer to the edge. He inserts another finger, the two digits piston in and out of her, working harmoniously with his skilled mouth. She screams out, her back arching to an almost impossible degree. It all becomes too much for her, bursts of light flashing behind her eyelids.  

“I’m gonna come,” she moans, cheek pressed deep into the pillow, eyes shut tightly to welcome the stars as she lets go with cacophonous convulsions. 

“That’s my good girl, come all over my tongue. That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He climbs back up her body, a content smile awaiting him when their faces become level with each other. Another exchange of ardent kisses, and she feels herself tingle at the taste of her on his lips. Even after her orgasm, she already craves for another, but this time she wants nothing more but to feel him stuffed inside of her. She wraps a leg around his hip, the edge of her foot pressed against the side of his ass as she presses her core into his bulge. 

“I need to be inside of you.” He leaps off the bed to push off the last pieces of constrictive clothing. His cock springs free, flushed red at the tip and just desperate for her amorous touch. 

And he’s big, she had always had an inkling, but to see it in the flesh is a whole new sensation quivering between her thighs. “It’s so big,” her thoughts become vocalized. 

With his knees back onto the bed, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him down lower, his elbows planking on either side of her. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He hisses as her warm hand wraps around him, her thumb swiping along a dribble of precum. She lathers him in his own arousal. “Think you can handle my cock?” 

She’s completely in awe, and her mind runs untamed with fantasies of how it would feel hitting that special spot deep in her cunt, every rigid vein carving its impression in her walls. “You know I can,” she dares him. 

“Fuck.” He kisses her deeply, his hand taking ahold of his cock and glazing it with the remnants of her last climax and gliding just between her wet folds.  “One last time–” he swallows hard as he pulls away from his lips, “–are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I...”

Their eyes meet, a wordless understanding worth more than any spoken language as she cups his cheeks. 

The entire length of him slides into her tight hole until he bottoms out, his balls pressing against her taut ass. She feels undeniably full, never having experienced such exhilaration in her life as Harry’s bare cock stretches her out completely. 

“Just slid right in,” he grunts, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He bites down and sucks greedily on the spot until he’s made his mark. She gasps in mild pain, but it feels too good to know that she can finally be his. He pulls all the way out, before slamming back in with ease, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her walls flutter around him. “It feels like you were made for me” She feels marvelously tight, squeezing him for all he’s worth. All she can do is nod, her voice caught in her throat as his thrusts become harder and faster.  “It’s all mine now, your pussy, your lips. You’re all mine.” 

“I’m yours, all yours, Harry.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “God, your big cock feels so good in my tight pussy.” Nails dig into his back as they run down and carve crescents into his flexed and sweaty muscles. 

They move flawlessly in sync as she rises up to greet his every thrust with just as much excitement and fervor. Both their bodies are on fire, a pressure building up at their very core and threatening to unravel at any moment. His balls tighten, and he knows he won’t last for much longer. He looks down between them, his cock completely soaked with her with the most sinful sounds resonating whenever he pushes in and out of her delightful heat. “I love you,” he breathes into her ear, his fingers indenting into the plush of her hips. He loses any sense of rhythm he might have started out with, his movements becoming more and more urgent as he chases after his high. 

“I love you.” Her second orgasm fast approaches, she feels it thrill every one of her nerves as though currents of electricity were running through her veins. She’s so close, and her hand slips between their sweaty chests to rub desperately on her clit. Her head is spinning with an aspiration to reach the brink of ecstasy. 

“Come all over my cock,” he pleads as he pushes into her with incredible force. “Want to feel you come around me.”

And that’s it for her. A wave of pleasure crashes over her and she cries out with a high-pitched moan. Her legs hugging him so tightly that he barely manages to move. She rides it out, rolling her hips to feel him continuously poke that special spot. Soon enough, her mind is on a cloud, the rest of her body soaking up the bliss of the moment.

His movements only become more erratic, and the breath leaves her body once he releases inside of her. Hot white ribbons shoot out and paint her walls with the image of a sensational love. It warms her center, her lips turning up in a lazy smile as he remains within her even after the final drop has left his tip. Once they’re heaving chests calm to a natural pace, he collapses on top of her, arms willing their way between her and the mattress to gather her into a tender embrace. She scratches the back of his head and sighs contently.  

“To think we could’ve been doing that for,” and she counts the years on each one of her fingers.

Harry chuckles in between her breasts, then reaches up and plants a quick but sweet kiss to her lips. “How long are you going to be holding onto that one?” She pretends to think, her mouth quirking to the side as her brows furrow in contemplation. “Until we make up for all that wasted time.” 

***

“I got you something.” She looks up at him, her body still wrapped in his arms as they lay naked in his bed. Memories of what feels like another life flip through her head.

“Is this what déjà vu feels like?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Do you want it or not?” 

Smiling, she kisses enthusiastically and nods her head. He gets up, and she has to stop herself from frowning when they lose all contact. She sinks into the sheets and waits impatiently for him to come back. Listening to him rummage through his closet, then to the growling of her tummy–and she makes a quick mental note to ask him to order something for them in a while––she tries to relive every detail from the last few hours in her head. She didn’t know that sex was supposed to feel so good.

“You told me that you hadn’t drawn in almost ten years,” he states, making his way back to the bed, but this time, with a bag clutched in his hands. He places it in her lap, then slips between her and the headboard, arms going back to their initial position. “Maybe it’s time you started back up.”

Y/n opens the enclosed wrappings. Inside the bag is a new sketchbook and a carton of 9H pencils. She carefully grazes her fingers above them. There’s a feeling in her chest, like she’s just been reunited with an old friend. 

“But what would I even draw?” She’d lost all sight of that part of her life, and it seems unlikely that those creative juices will just come trickling back to her now. 

Harry kisses the side of her head, and she leans into him easily.

“Whatever inspires you.” 

It’s just that easy. She closes her eyes and reflects on what has always made her feel any bit positive. Ava and her bluntness; her dad and his sense of duty to his family; Nan and Gramps and their playful bickering; Nan and her proclivity for gossip; Gramps and his hatred for ties. All of them had been a comfort to her, even when she hadn’t realized it. They were part of what had kept her afloat.

Feeling Harry’s heartbeat press up against her back, she knows that she’ll never have to worry about drowning. She opens her sketchbook to its first clean page and lets herself be happy. 

***

“Thanks for meeting us here,” Jared says, offering her a modest grin. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t want to.” Penny nods beside him. Jared had texted her and asked if she would meet them for lunch, so that they could talk. At first, Y/n didn’t think that necessary. What was the point when it was all out in the open now? But with some convincing from Harry, she realized that she had to confront this.

“There’s no moving on if we don’t talk about it.” Y/n takes the seat across from Penny. She looks at the girl she’d consider a sister, studying her rounded and healthier features. Pregnancy looks good on her. “You look good.” 

Penny smiles thankfully. “So do you.”

They talk about everything, even the stuff that feels like it should hurt. But it doesn’t. Clarity exists where it hadn’t before. She tells them that about Harry, and apparently it isn’t much of a shock to anyone, which shocks her. Jared then admits to having had all these doubts about their relationship but had stuck through it because of his own insecurities. That had had hit close to home for Y/n. It’s somewhat of a relief that she hadn’t been the only one who felt that what they had was temperamental. 

“You were there for me when I was at my worst, and for that, I’ll always love you,” Jared sighs, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But...”

“That’s all we were meant to be.”

He nods sadly, pulling back. His other arm is around Penny’s chair, and Y/n can see his fingers playing with the ends of her ponytail. 

Penny must notice this, and she quickly shrugs him away. “Sorry,” she mutters.  

Y/n shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she waves it off. “This was good. At least now we can all carry on with our lives.” She gets out of her chair. “Good luck,” she says to the both of them. Then she looks directly at Penny. “I know you’re worried about making all the same mistakes as your mum, but...” she smiles, “someone said to me that mistakes aren’t genetic. I know you. And I know how much you love your baby. Just promise me you’ll be there for her.”

With that she turns towards the exit. Before she can get far, however, she feels a hand grab her own. She looks back, and it’s Penny. Her eyes are teary, and her chest lifts erratically. “Do you think that...” she swallows, “...that you’ll ever forgive me?”

“Do I still get to be called auntie?” 

Penny lets out a stifled giggle. “Yes.”

Y/n touches her comfortingly on the shoulder. “Then, one day.”

She walks out of there feeling completely at peace with herself.

***

Two Years Later

The newest exhibit proves to be a hit. It’s smaller than its predecessors, this time only containing the work from a single artist. 

She and Harry walk hand-in-hand, greeting all of guests and just enjoying each other’s company. Gramps isn’t moping as much as he usually does, and she thinks it’s because Nan’s bought him a clip-on tie that doesn’t strangle him around the neck. Ava and Nan are gossiping with some potential investors, while her dad tries to apologize on their behalf. 

On the other side, her mum and Lawrence discuss color theory in relation to one of the spotlight pieces. She catches a glimpse of the civility between her parents when they catch each other’s eyes from across the room. 

“I think it’s the gallery’s best showcase yet,” Harry tells her and kisses her on the lips. “Really, I don’t see how anything might top this.”

Y/n laughs. “You’re just trying to get laid.”

Harry wags his eyebrows. “Is it working?” She doesn’t need to give him an answer with words, so instead, she pulls him by the lapels of his jacket and their lips meet in another sweet kiss. 

They stop in front of the piece in the very back, the one that’s drawn in the most viewers. They squeeze through the polluted crowd until they’re close enough to the front. He wraps his arms around her, and they both admire its beauty. 

Two kids laid out on the grass; eyes closed with content smiles on their faces. The sky above them, a product of their combined imaginations as well as the excitement of hopes and dreams. 

Below the canvas is a placcard with the painting’s information. 

Y/n Styles, Purple Clouds and Tangerine Skies.

***

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

#harry styles #harry style imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles au #one direction #writing

[narrators-journal]

The great escape

oh boy oh boy, it’s here! The sequelette! For those who don’t know, this is a small follow up to my story ‘Inquisitive obsessions’ So if you want the full story, go read that first. This one won’t be overtly Yandere, but I still hope you guys have fun with it.

CW: lotsa pregnancy talk in this one. I’m not that knowledgeable of the topic, so likely gonna have some shoddy parts.

Ever since you had met Illumi, your life had changed forever. You didn't notice it at first, too caught up in being in a relationship to remember seeing him lurking outside your house after a date, or to remember the pair of underwear you'd randomly lost despite seeing them on your bathroom floor right before you went to bed that night. It was only after that brightly colored, card-slinging maniac, who you later found out was named Hisoka, murdered the butlers Illumi had set as your prison guards and then tried to 'introduce himself to you' as if he hadn't just slaughtered other humans like cattle that it finally really set in how deep of trouble you were in. Luckily, you had run to the bathroom as if to throw up and then slipped out of your bathroom window to run for help. Unluckily, Illumi was swift to find you. After that, the 'honeymoon phase' violently ended.

Of course, after kidnapping getting you safely to his family home, Illumi didn't explain anything you asked him about, your life couldn't be that easy, but you had your suspicions that a lot of the weird occurrences you'd been faced with before properly meeting him could be placed at his feet. However, you were in no place to investigate or try to escape. You were taken to the main house, situated in Illumi's bedroom, and almost never alone after that. If Illumi wasn't showering you with gifts, compliments, and cuddles, his mother was eager to befriend you, snatching you up from the halls at the rare times you were permitted to walk the home alone to have tea and tell you all about her plans for you and her son's marriage, or the baby. You hated it, and you were noticeably miserable.

Because of that, Illumi did his best to make you happy, distracting you with talk of baby names, wedding details, your hobbies, anything he could think of to try and make you happy. And it would work for a while, you'd get swept up in his charms and melt into his touch when he cuddled up to you at night, but not too long after, you'd crash again. You'd given up on trying to escape, you'd been driven up to the estate, so you knew how big the mountain was and just how hopelessly trapped you really were, but you would still sob, smack and try to hit the long-haired assassin, and just try to get away from him, even though he never let you leave his sight for fear of 'the baby being harmed.

' As the days passed, you did eventually settle into your predicament, though there was always an intense urge to run if you got the chance. You played along with Kikyo, let Illumi love on you and be excited for the baby, and learned how to not only cope with the fear you now felt towards your 'fiance,' but avoid the brunt of Illumi's manipulative powers, mostly by avoiding looking into his dark, soulless eyes, which would leave you groggy and with static for thoughts. He wasn't a fan of that, but he remained unreadable and cold, never laying a hand on you or showing aggression towards you to avoid stressing you out. He treated you like the world's most fragile porcelain doll because of your pregnancy. That one odd behavior at least got explained though, so that was progress.          "I'm very well trained to fight, so I'm very strong. You...are very much so not." It wasn't much, but considering the most you'd gotten out of him when you'd tried to question him before was some form of topic change, you took it. Either way though, you were thankful that he treated you so delicately, because you didn't want to think of the possible alternatives. On the bright side though, your reluctant acceptance did open up more freedoms to you. Mainly, it was the freedom to talk to a single person outside of the Zoldyck family when Illumi was off on jobs, but once he was home that freedom was taken away again. Thankfully though, that wasn't your only freedom, you also got to go along with a butler to shop in town. Of course, Illumi or Kikyo came with, hovering protectively nearby while you walked the town's shops, getting exercise and socialization under the watchful eye of your fiance or karen-like mother-in-law. Illumi usually spent your time out trailing behind you like a ghost, helping when he felt you couldn't do something alone, but otherwise leaving you to do whatever you needed while always feeling his eyes on you. At the very least, you could somewhat ignore him and maybe even...pretend to be normal while he was being protective, unlike his mother, who would never leave you alone when out, and was all around demanding and very hard to miss. It was a brief reprieve from the insanity, but it was welcome. However, that was just it. A brief escape. Whenever you returned to the car you were reminded that you really had been snatched from your home by your boyfriend and pushed into a marriage you didn't want. Finally though, on a particularly cold late-winter night almost three months after your engagement, as you laid in bed with Illumi, staring at the wall with his arm wrapped securely around your midsection and his forehead resting between your shoulder blades, you decided to try a pretty risky ask. You didn't expect him to agree, but you couldn't deal with him lingering around you anymore. It was worth a shot.          "I-Illumi," you croaked, your voice quiet and almost strangled with anxiety and fear, but you forced yourself onwards after he hummed in acknowledgement, "Tomorrow, could I maybe go out alone? O-or at least only with a butler?" you squeaked, your stomach twisting with nerves as you waited the excruciatingly long moments it took for him to ponder your request and reply with no sign to give away his feelings.          "Why?" He asked, and you were really missing the days where he put feeling into his words. His monotonous, unreadable voice gave you anxiety.         "I..." You took a deep breath to steady your quivering voice, deciding honesty was safest, "I'm still scared of you after you got so aggressive when I told you I was pregnant, and...um, y-your mom is...kinda smothering." Your voice died with each word after 'and', but he still heard you. There was another stretch of silence before he hummed,         "Fine, but if you misbehave in any way on this trip, you won't leave the house for the rest of your pregnancy." He warned, and you didn't need him to emote to know he was deathly serious, so you simply nodded and thanked him before curling up and trying your best to sleep. When morning came, you were sure to be on your best behavior while Illumi arranged a butler to take you into town. You'd only get an hour to do whatever you wanted, but it was maybe your only chance to leave the mountain without the manipulative predator who called himself your fiance breathing down your neck. So, when it finally came time for you to leave, you gave the assassin a kiss on the cheek before you left. With that, you had a long car ride with no looming threat or awkward, prying conversations, just peace, quiet, and a lovely view of trees drifting by outside of the car window along the way. It ended up being so peaceful, that you fell asleep for most of the ride, only waking when the driver hit a bump in the road and jolted you out of your dreams and into a slightly panicked state. Instantly putting you on edge as you expected to be faced with Illumi beside you, watching you blankly, or your mother-in-law trying to feel the small bump beginning to show on your belly for the umpteenth time that day. But, when you opened your (e/c) eyes and gave a frantic scan of the backseat, neither were there. You're safe. They're back at the estate. You told yourself, taking a few deep breaths to slow your thundering heart. You finally had no murderous assassin of any sort nearby. You were 2 hours away from the estate, a total of at least 4 from the main house. You soon realized, you could run. Do you really want to live life in terror? Being used as a broodmare and watching your baby be turned into a small Illumi? The braver, more realistic voice in your head whispered while you watched trees zoom by through the car window, but he's a dangerous man. He found you when you ran the first time, do you think you could get away a second time? And STAY away? the more fearful inner voice piped up, but at the thought of possibly being free that first voice won out. Because of that, you knew in an instant that you were already at a point of no return if you even began this path, but you were also determined to not be trapped in a fearful marriage, watching your child suffer. So, you curled up and covertly unlaced your shoe lace, a small luxury you'd gotten to sooth one of your earlier melt downs about being trapped in such a restrictive relationship, than, you struck. In a flash, you coiled the lace around your hands and looped it over the driver's seat and the butler's throat. You put your foot against the back of the seat and felt hot tears burn your eyes in both terror and instant regret as the car skidded to a halt so the butler could try to fight for his life. However, while the help had been trained to be demons in their own right, you somehow managed to overpower his frantic attempts to free himself with your own frantic, shakey, teary-eyed strength. You were hysterical as you did it, but you  successfully strangled the poor butler after an excruciatingly long time.          "ohgodimsosorry," you wept as you scrambled to the front seat and pushed the body out onto the deserted road, fighting the urge to vomit just yet as you took his place. You then had to scrub your eyes three times before your vision was clear enough for you to drive, but even after calming down a bit, your breaths were still raking through your chest, and you could already feel a headache coming from the intensity of your sobs as you drove into the town and repeatedly plead for forgiveness for the murder. However, when you found a bus stop, you scraped up your composure and did your best to hide just how distraught you were. Luckily, the clerk was an angel, getting you a ticket for free when they saw just how dishevelled and snivelling you were, deducing correctly that you needed help and doing their best to assist. So, you got a cup of water and clutched your ticket like a child protecting their lollipop from a greedy sibling, settled inside and out of view to await the bus and calm down. That was when you got the call. The phone ringing sent an icy hot bolt of primal terror through your body, but you bit that back and went ahead and answered it with shaking hands, (e/c) eyes blurring with tears again when you heard the sickly familiar indifferent voice on the other end of the line,           "(y/n)," Illumi said, not even sounding pissed, just slightly bored, as if he'd expected this. "I understand you are scared about all of the changes and are somewhat sensitive right now, but I cannot let you leave. Please return home before I have to come collect you." Just like that, the rabid courage that gave you that first push of determination was wiped away like a leaf in a tornado. After all, it was so much easier to make an escape when Illumi wasn't looming over you, but now that he was talking to you, knowing damned well what you were up to, you had the powerful urge to burst into tears and drive back to the Zoldyck estate. No! This is the exact reason you were such easy prey for him in the first place! that courageous voice pointed out, essentially slapping some sense into you as you swallowed your sobs and those submissive urges, this is your one chance! if you go back, he's never going to leave you alone for a SECOND. Run! This is your only chance! With that last point, you gulped down breaths, steeling your nerves before speaking at last          "No." You croaked, your voice barely a whisper, but you still sensed the switch in Illumi's mood when he heard,              "(y/n). Come home. Right. Now. You won't like it if I have to come and get you." he said, his voice finally changing from flat and bored, to dripping with a threat as his mask cracked and his anger slipped through so clearly you could almost feel him grabbing you by the throat, but you saw your bus beginning to load, so you had to make a snap judgement as quickly as Illumi's emotional outburst passed and he returned to indifference.             "Listen, I'm trying my best to not be terrifying or anything, but I'd be a horrible hu-" You hung up on him and tossed the phone out of the window once you'd gotten onto the bus and it had begun the journey down the road. Something about that single, simple action felt more like throwing one of your shackles out of the window instead of a phone.

#Illumi x reader #Sequelette #sequel #Illumi #x reader #outrunning obsessions #fanfiction #quotev #hxh #hunter x hunter

[writingsbychlo]

just one day |void!stiles

word count; 10,744

summary; you need a break from being what your parents expect you to be and a little rebellion, and ‘bad-boy’ stiles stilinksi is willing to help you out with that, just for the day.

notes; reworked and better than ever, this fic is back!

warnings; smut, unproteced sex, public sex, car sex, vandalism, drug use. 

It was with great awkwardness and tension that Stiles Stilinski had found you, occupying what you had now realised what had been his spot, as he stared at you with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. Body stiff and shoulders squared, he swallowed thickly, the stare holding and directed straight at you, unflinching, as you wiped your eyes clear.

Your nose was red, you knew it would be, your eyes sore and your voice hoarse, but you did your best to clear away the smudged mascara you assumed to have gathered under your eyes in the most subtle way possible. Trying to clear the lump from your throat as you coughed, he began to shuffle from one foot to the other, clearly not accustomed to actually having to deal with people who were crying.

You’d seen him around the halls before, leather jackets and a lot of smirks as he went, often in trouble for missing deadlines and threats about expulsion, but it never seemed to go through. Though, despite all the chatter and gossip you’d hear about him, you’d never actually met him before. Your social circles were so far from ever crossing that you couldn't even see his circle from your own, but here they were. Colliding so monumentally that if it wasn’t a hypothetical then the walls would be shaking and the floor splitting in two like something from a movie about the San Andreas fault line.

“I’m really sorry. Is this, like, your space?”

You scooped up your bag, trying to swing it over your shoulder, and cursing as your bags spilt out onto the floor. Papers went fluttering to the ground, and you sighed heavily under your breath, tears lining your eyes once again as you knelt down to try and gather them up. One heavy sigh and two scuffed footsteps later, and he was dropping to a knee himself to help you pick up your belongings, avoiding your watery gaze with purpose as you looked up at him. “Can’t really ‘own’ a spot, y’know. It’s all campus property.”

His words were mumbled, and you wiped your nose carefully, sniffling before a breathy laugh was leaving you. Tucking all the sheets from both you and his hands into your bag, and making sure to seal it properly this time, you got back to your feet and brushed yourself down. “I was just leaving, anyway, so it’s all yours.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“What?” Your eyes widened a bit as you looked at him, studying his features, and his shoulders sagged. His gaze finally meeting yours as he stood over you, a couple of inches added to his height over your own, despite his slumped posture, and you nibbled on your lower lip as you waited.

“You weren’t just leaving. You don’t have to leave, but I’m not all that talkative and I get easily annoyed. I’m not great company, and I’m not good with advice, but contrary to popular belief, I’m not the sort of asshole who’s going to kick a crying girl out of a safe space she chose.”

You gaped at him, before nodding and offering him a small smile which he didn’t return. His shoulder brushed yours as he swerved around you, spreading himself out across the large windowsill, legs stretched out and back to the wall. Twisting to the side, he expertly unhooked the safety lock on the window, pushing it open.

You took a more conservative stance, perching gracefully on the edge and crossing one leg over the other. With a deep breath, and a duck your head when he raised his eyebrows at you in some form of silent appraisal, he reached for the bag he’d disposed of on the floor, fishing through the front pocket.

He retrieved out a pale white roll up, clearly done by himself as he checked it between his fingers, thinner at the base and wider at the end with the twisted paper, a silver lighter sat in the other hand. Balancing it between his lips, he cupped his hand around the flame and clicked it on, pausing and waiting until he was satisfied that it was lit, the tip glowing orange with a small stream of smoke curling up and out of the open window.

Your jaw hung slack, eyes piercing into him as he took a deep breath, holding it for a second before releasing the cloud of silvery smoke his mouth curling into a slight pucker as he exhaled the lungful. “You’re smoking!”

Your words were hissed out in a stage whisper, and his eyes flicked over to you from where he had been staring out into the fields behind the school, a single brow raising in question. “Nicely deducted, Sherlock. How ever did you come to that conclusion?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest somewhat protectively as he mocked you, and he rolled his eyes, taking another drag of the blunt he held delicately between two long fingers, and turning to face you.

“There are no smoke detectors here, the staff never come up because nobody ever borrows these books, and the window faces away from the campus so nobody will see, it’s the safest spot.”

You hummed, once again rolling your lower lip between your teeth as you tuned to face him. Pressing your back to the wall in an attempt to mirror his position, you tentatively spread your legs out beside his, crossed at the ankle. Whiskey-brown eyes scanned along the bare skin of your legs beside his, the material of your skirt falling to you mid-thigh. His tongue poked out to lick over his lips as they twitched up at the edges onto a smirk, before his gaze was finding your own once again. “Shouldn’t you be in class, or something?”

“Shouldn’t you be in class, little Miss Student-Government-President?” He smirked widely as your cheeks flared with heat, but you found yourself laughing under your breath.

“You shared your seat with me, I think you can call me (Y/N), but only when I’m out of office. Must keep up professional appearances, and all.”

“Well, of course. What an honour it is, Miss President.” He rolled his hands cordially as though he were to bow, and you let your laugh come out fully-formed and cheery this time, not missing the flash of his teeth as he bantered with you. He tipped his head back, letting it hit the wall behind him with a slight ‘thunk’, his scrutinising stare on you never flinching, not even when he reached out of the window to tap away the ash that had formed. “So, why are you skipping class? I mean, that’s what I assume you’re doing, so you don’t have to go home and explain yourself to your flatmates. Doesn’t seem very presidential of you.”

Your smile was taken from you just as quickly as you’d been given it, and you didn’t bother to hide the way you curled in on yourself a little. “I had a moment. I got all anxious, and just had to get away from there.”

“You mean you had a panic attack?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and he watched you for a second, nodding to himself somewhat as he had a conversation in his head that you couldn’t hear, before he was bumping you with his toes against your side gently. “Yeah.”

“It’s alright, you know. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him with a hint of a smile and shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, I do.”

The silent confession hung between you both, tense and heavy in the air, and he was completely still, except for the slight shake of his hand and the twitch in his eyebrows. Suddenly, he was holding the paper roll out to you, turned in his hand as the slightly wet tip was held in your direction. He urged you to take it, watching as you plucked it between two fingers, holding it out from yourself like it would bite you, and he sat up a little further.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Preferably smoke it before it burns away and nobody gets to enjoy it.” He deadpanned, and you looked at him with an expression that could only be read as ‘look at me, do I look like I have ever smoked before?’. He seemed to get it, and he chuckled, shaking his head a little. “Place it between your lips, like you saw me do. Then take a deep breath, and hold the smoke. It’ll burn a little and feel odd, but you can let it go after a few seconds, that’s how you’ll get the best effect.”

Doing as told, you placed it between your lips, feeling the thick and smoky essence roll over your tongue before you even inhaled. You weren’t stupid, you recognised the slightly funky and sweet smell, as well as the shape of the blunt he held, it was a dead giveaway. You weren’t so sheltered that you didn’t know what marijuana was, but you had never been in a position to try it. Taking a deep breath, your eyes widened at the warm burn that filled your chest, and you were barely able to keep it within your lungs for a second before you were coughing away the sting in your throat. His eyes were crinkling with laughter as he watched you, grinning widely as he waited for you to clear yourself out, before swallowing down and mulling over the aftertaste you’d been given.

“Not bad for your first time, I’m impressed.”

“Hey! Who says it’s my first time?” At your statement, he fixed you with the same look you had given him only minutes prior, but he was read as ‘do I look stupid to you?’, and your shoulders slumped. Meeting his eye again and looking to him for approval as you lifted it back to your mouth, daring yourself to take a second hit as he gave you a small and encouraging nod.

“I used to get panic attacks a lot, I only smoke when I need to calm down and feel a little looser. You feel better, right?” You nodded, surprisingly not coughing as violently this time, before holding it back to him and he took it, lifting it straight to his mouth to take a drag. “You want to tell me what happened that has your whole academic career crumbling to your feet, bringing you to getting slightly high at 10am on Wednesday, with the resident college fuck-up?”

“You’re not the college fuck-up.” You retorted, and he brushed it off, tapping away ash and looking at what was left of the roll, before offering you the rest of it, and to your shock as well as his, you actually accepted it. “Besides, I thought you didn’t want to hear about it?”

“I never said that, I just said I don’t give good advice, and I don’t, so be warned. I will listen, though, if you want to talk about it.

“It’s my parents.”

“I assumed it might be.” He teased, and you shrugged one shoulder, moving from pinching the spliff between your thumb and forefinger, to clenching it between the sides of your index and middle, taking a deep drag and trying to suppress the urge to cough as you got acquainted with the feeling.

“I’m not ready to graduate, because that means moving straight on to work for their company. I’m not even taking the degree I wanted. I didn’t want to go to college, I wanted to take a gap year. You know I’ve never been to a party? I have a fucking curfew, like I’m eight, because my parents think they own me.” You huffed, taking drags between your statements, and when you finished, he silently took the blunt and stubbed it out on the bricks outside of the building, and closing the window from the cool breeze. “You know, I don’t live in student accommodation. I never got that independence! They moved here. They got a house near my college so that I can live with them. Keep an eye on me. I’m twenty-one, for fucks sake, and I’m still treated like a child!”

“You have a curfew?”

“Oh, yeah! I have no free time of my own, ever! They have me doing extra-curricular and student body president, volunteer work, and damn exercise routines. I get no time to myself, I’m studying or working out or working, I just want to be a normal damn college kid! I didn’t get to do any kid stuff, I had no high school experience, because my entire life is being dictated by my parents, who are living vicariously through me and not once asking me what I want, and now, I’m going to have no college experience either!” You were out of breath by the time you slumped back into your seat, almost breathless, and completely

“What do you want?”

You paused, your face red, still panting from your speech, turning to look at him with raised brows and parted lips. “What?”

“What do you want? I’m asking you. I want to know what you want.”

“I want to be a kid. I want to go to parties and get drunk and hold a guy’s hand. I don’t want a boombox outside of my window, but I want to have my heart beat a little faster. I want to get rid of stupid blazers and responsibility and I want to smoke, and I wanted memories I could look back on. I just want to not be me, and live like this.”

He seemed to consider your words for a minute, before he was standing up, swinging his bag over his shoulder, swiping yours up from the floor and looking at your pointedly. “Well, c’mon then.”

“What are we doing?” He helped you lift the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, before grinning wildly, tipping his head to the side.

“We’re giving you one whole day of college normalcy. There will be no working out or homework. In fact, there will probably be greasy diner food and some slightly illegal activity. Scratch that, there is definitely going to be at least one illegal activity today.”

“Really?”

His hand slipped along your arm, large palm finding yours as one of his eyes dropped in a wink as his fingers slipped between your own, weaving the digits together in a tight hold. Your cheeks flared, fulfilling the small request that you hadn’t realised you’d uttered until now. “Definitely. The first step, skip the rest of the day entirely, think you’re up for it?”

“Let’s do it.”

Your first stop had been the movie theatre, your brows raising disapprovingly as he rounded the side of the beat-up blue jeep and locked the vehicle, meeting you by your side and placing a hand on your lower back as you turned to look at him. 

“Okay, I know I’m sheltered, but I have been to the movies before.”

He shot you a disappointed look, before rolling his eyes and pushing you forward to fall into step beside him, his arm coming up to swing over your shoulders as he guided you towards the main entrance. “Have you ever broken into the movies before?”

“Like, as in not paid?” 

You could hear the appalled tone in your own voice, his amused smirk making heat crawl up your neck, and a strangled sound of confusion left you as he guided you right past the main doors and around the side of the building. He waited, knocking on the backdoor twice, and you waited for him to reveal his plan. Only moments later, the door was swinging open, the less than approving face of someone who was clearly his friend, a boy you recognised, who had graduated the year before. With a slanted jaw and tanned skin, he held the backdoor fire exit open, letting the two of you slip inside and into the dimly lit corridor of the staff only areas. 

Guiding you through the thin halls, you found a palm meeting your own once again, fingers lacing between yours as he tugged you along, listening to ‘Scott’ tell you about the movies that were on. The pair of you settled on a comedy that was just scheduled to begin, taking seats in the back row and hiding in the darkness as the adverts played out. Only moments later, Scott was returning, a playful scowl on his face as he handed you both a soda and a bucket of popcorn to share, smacking his best friend upside the head, before moving away to check over the scattered other patrons’ tickets, those who had paid. 

You hadn't had high hopes for the movie, but every other scene brought the boy you had somehow befriended leaning over to whisper in your ear, making you giggle and roll your eyes each time he made a silly comment about what was going on on-screen.

It was funny and liberating, and in the back of your mind was the niggling feeling that you should be in your literature lecture right now. Your bag,  filled with textbooks and pencil cases, was sitting on the backseat of Stiles’ jeep with his own, and you felt lighter without the weight of it dragging you down.

Just in the couple of hours that it took for the movie to pass, you had found yourself unwinding and feeling more like yourself than you had in years. You never had time to watch random comedies, your parents had you watching documentaries and foreign films to help you learn your languages, and you hadn't seen Adam Sandler on the big screen since you were ten. It was liberating, and your cheeks were practically aching with smiles and laughter hurrying through the lobby with attempts to seem casual as the staff eyed the pair of you up, mumbles about not having seen you coming in. Scott simply whistled to himself and wiped down the lobby tables.

Your next stop had been a diner on the outside of town, where Stiles seemed to know the waitress, because the older lady had seemed thrilled or see him. Pinching his cheeks and making him blush as he scowled at her, she already knew his order by heart, but being nice enough to hand you both a menu so that you didn't feel quite as alone as your eyes scanned over each and every item. 

You had never seen such a composition of greasy food and unhealthy snacks, but your stomach was rumbling happily as you looked over the options, eyes wide and mouth watering as you considered them. These were ‘treat meals’, you ate food that had nutritional value and assisted in brain function, to help you sleep and keep healthy, and assist on your workouts. These were the sorts of meals you rarely got to indulge in. 

You finally settled, ordering way more than you could possibly eat, but Stiles had promised to do his best to help you finish it all, a cheeky grin on his face as your server’s eyes widened further and further with every item you added to your list. 

“Lots of food, doll, are you compensating for something? Perhaps the complete lack of junk food?”

“Hit the nail right on the head.” You sighed, making a small motion with your hand as a hammer hitting a nail. Cheesy music played over the speakers, conversation flowing easily between the two of you as you tried to force the thoughts about all the work building up away from your mind. You discovered a lot about him with that meal, waiting for your food to arrive and sipping on the sweet flavoured shake before you, ice crystals chilling your tongue until you got brain freeze. 

You were certain that these were some things he had never told anyone, or at the very least, he would be able to count the number of people he’d told on one hand. You weren’t sure why he was telling you them at all. It wasn’t until he mentioned that his dad was the Sheriff that you realised why his last name had sounded so familiar, all the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. He’d always wanted to travel too, but he’d remained in the state, taking the closest college as not to stray too far from where his dad may need him, and your heart went out to him.

He also told you about his mom dying, and how that was the first thing that had started his spree into petty crimes and minor arrests that he always ended up getting released from. You’d heard of his reputation, everything from being caught drinking and smoking underage to being caught vandalising and speeding, nothing too serious, but enough for the deputies to put him in a cell for a few hours to teach him a lesson, and wait for his dad to come and yell at him before releasing him. 

He told you why he did what he did, how the adrenaline made him feel alive, like he was in control of his life and the thrill of doing something that he wasn’t supposed to give him highs and kicks that drugs and alcohol never did. He didn’t want to be a criminal, he just liked occasionally dabbling in things he shouldn't be doing. 

He explained how he soon grew to have this record, and by the end of high school, he was no longer bothering to fight it, because the more he insisted the rumours about him weren’t true, the more people gossiped. He went from a flannel-wearing spastic who liked some mischief to a rumoured bad-boy with leather jackets and a habit for drug-taking.

You both laughed as you shared the rumours you had heard about him, and he shot them down, one by one, the two of you giggling as you believed each word he said wholeheartedly.

You, in turn, told him about the pressure your parents put on you, and the way you had come to suppressing your panic attacks as you ensured that you weren’t loud enough at night with your cries and gasping breaths to wake up the rest of your family. You told him about what you really wanted to do with your future, that you didn’t want a desk job and early morning commutes. Rather, you wanted a sleeping bag and a map of the United States as you went on a road trip, and then on to travel the world, but that would require you at least knowing how to drive, and your parents had never let you behind the wheel of a car before. 

You spewed all about your real ambitions, to write a book or run a blog, something that would probably never work out and bring in steady and reliable money, but that it would make you happy. He listened to it all, never interrupting you or mocking you, no judgement like from your neighbours or glares like from your parents, but just acknowledgement.

At some point, his hand had slid across the table and his fingers laced with yours to sit on the wooden top in reassurance, only parting when your mass quantities of food had arrived. All the plates had been pressed up against one another as they filled the table, almost not having enough room, and your eyes were glinting to match his as the two of you clutched your cutlery and looked over the feast. 

You didn’t finish all the food you had, not even close, but the woman you had come to know as being called ‘Margie’ had boxed and bagged it all up for you, hot and wrapped in tinfoil as you placed it on the back seat of the jeep. It hadn't clicked until today that these weren’t unfamiliar faces, each person you were coming across was someone you had seen around the town, campus or the library, supermarkets and the bus stop, and yet because of the frantic schedule that had been bestowed upon you, you had never even gotten to know the people in your own community. With each passing moment of the day, you knew you’d never be able to go back to just doing as you were told, graduating college to dive headfirst into a  job you didn’t want, because you needed to experience all of those little seeds of interest, the ones you had already watered blooming into beautiful flowers of excitement and joy.

When you had moved to get back in the jeep, however, Stiles had been leaning against the passenger door side, refusing to move as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, a pinched look on his face and keys dangling from one of his fingers. 

“Why don’t I teach you a few things?”

“What things?” Your voice was cautious and he shot you a look, before jingling his keys and taking your hand in his other, pressing the cool metal into your palm.

“In the car. I’ll let you try driving, teach you some basic things. This is a really big parking lot, which happens to be pretty empty.”

Your fingers curled around the keys, all but bouncing on your feet as you looked at him, taking in the nervous but optimistic look on his face. “I’ll be really careful, I promise.”

“I know you will, you’re way too much of a good girl to even consider going above five miles an hour. I could probably open the door and step out if I wanted to.” You shoved at his shoulder while he snickered, but you circled around to the side you weren’t used to getting in on, and he hopped up into the passenger side, strapping himself in and waiting for you to do the same, before you were just staring at him with wide eyes, the key clutched in your hand.

He started by telling you about the different pedals and stations on the gear stick, making sure that the radio was turned off for full concentration, and you tried your hand. The engine stalled, the car fluttered and bounced, and you squealed and hit the brakes more times than you could count, but after over an hour of trying, you had managed to get a grip on it. It was enough to make your heart race, and thoroughly exhilarating, and you were elated as you managed to do an entire circular lap of the parking lot before parking back in your original space with terrible form, but you had turned off the car and sat in your seat, your eyes wide and jaw dropped as you thought about what you had been able to do. 

You had driven a car. And not crashed it.

You were perfectly okay, there weren't even any scratches on the door, and Stiles was praising you for how well you had done for your first time. In return, you had questioned him on what the jingling under his seat was, a wicked grin taking over his lips as he unclipped his safety belt and jogged around to your side, leaning over you to undo your seatbelt before he was helping you down from the raised step. Once you were out, he leaned down to pull out the several slightly battered tin bottles from under your seat. 

They had dried paint dripping along the sides, staining each one with the colour it contained, and you looked between him and the bottles he held up eagerly, before a lightbulb seemed to go off above his head before he lit up even more, a genuine wide smile on his face and a buzz shaking along his body. 

“Get back in, I know exactly what we’re doing next.”

“It involves spray paint?”

“Bet that fine little ass it does.” Your jaw dropped, and he placed the canisters back where they had been, smirking at you as he turned back to take in your wide eyes and warm cheeks, finding him pinching one of them like the woman inside the diner had done to him, and the colour on your cheeks only deepened. “Nobody ever told you that you’re pretty before, doll?”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty, it’s just that nobody ever told me I had..”

“A fine little ass? Because you do. You’re also absolutely stunning, and have some very pretty lips, too.” His thumb smoothed over them as he spoke, eyes twinkling as you sealed them shut, and you shook your head to clear it with a small laugh. “Go get your cute little butt in the car, so we can achieve our second illegal activity of the day.”

“Third if you count getting high on school property.”

Your witty retort brought a smile to his lips, and he tipped your chin up a little bit to face him, his breath brushing over your face from your close proximity, and you felt like you could barely breathe with the way it felt to be almost pressed up against him. “I am not a good influence on you.”

“You’re giving me the confidence to be who I want to be, I say you’re the absolute best influence on me.” His lips quirked up at the sides when you spoke, before your shoulder was rising and falling in a simple shrug. “My parents would agree with you, though.”

“That’ll be the first time anybody’s parents have ever agreed with me, now go get in the car.”

You did as told, practically skipping to your side as you clambered in, the engine starting up and Stiles peeled out of the parking lot, far more confident and experienced in his driving than you had ever been in your own. It wasn’t until you were out on the highway that he was reaching behind himself, eyes still fixed on the road ahead, but hand shuffling around behind your seat until he produced a crumpled pile of plaid material. 

“You might want to put that on, I’d hate if you ruined that cute little top with spray paint.” You glanced down at yourself, a sweet white blouse with a bow sitting on your chest, and you realised he had a very valid point. You held it there until the car stopped, an hour passing by on the roads as he guided you towards the place he knew so well, pulling far up into the preserve and not even flinching as the two of you pulled over the ‘do not enter’ property sign. It was another five minutes chugging along the rough path through the trees before he was parking in a clearing, afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees and lighting up the area with a warm glow. 

An abandoned building stood before you, and despite it only being the late afternoon, you were grateful for the extra layer of warmth when you pulled the flannel shirt up your arms and let the oversized material swamp you, covering your arms to your hands and your outfit down to below your skirt. His nimble fingers rolled the sleeves up to your elbows as you buttoned it up, patches of paint already on the fabric and making it look like an artist's apron, and you giggled at the thought. 

You chose a patch you were going to work on, your palm pressed flat to the warm stone of the crumbling building, previous artwork from his own vandal excursions were already decorating the walls, but you found a reasonably sized empty spot for the two of you to get to work on, and a bucket of spray paint cans of all different colours and brands were dropped by your feet. It was an assorted box, some looking brand new and some looking like they would be empty and dried up, different sizes and coloured logos from collecting them at different times and stores, and you nudged it with your toes as you watched them, catching him rolling up his sleeves out of the corner of your eyes. 

“I like this spot.”

“You picked a good one, what are you going to paint?”

“I have no idea.” You mumbled, picking through the box and selecting a dark purple colour, shaking the can to check it was still functional, and it clicked and jingled as you did. “Maybe my name?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't recommend that.” He tutted, shaking his head and watching as you held the can up to the wall, too nervous to actually press down on the tip and fire the paint from within. “Do your first initial, that’s more inconspicuous, and they’ll never know. Do your first initial, and a bunch of shapes around it.”

“Will you do yours, too?”

“If you want me to, doll.” You nodded at him, turning back to face the wall as you pictured the size of the lettering, how to best fill the space before you, and you found yourself tracing the space with a finger from your other hand. The man beside you chuckled as he watched you struggle nervously. His body moved closer to your own, standing behind you and pressing his front up to your back, one hand slipped around your waist and the other came to close over your hand, encouraging you to loosen your arm in his grip. “Let me help you.”

You relaxed back, pressing more firmly into his body as he lifted your hand into a starting position, his finger tapping against yours over the press-button and you pushed down, paint flying from the tip and he swiped your arm around in loops and lines. Filling out patches and making some thinner while others were thicker, you both worked until your initial was standing out on the concrete, accompanied by a plus sign and a large ‘M’, before he finally let you drop the can. 

“‘M’?” You read it allowed, and he shrugged.

“Stiles is just a nickname, y’know. My real name is incredibly hard to pronounce, and it didn’t exactly go with my bad-boy persona, so people started calling me by my nickname more than my actual name.” He leaned down to pick up two new cans, handing you a pale blue one while he held up a red one. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, ending all of your wonderings as he whispered his real name into your ear. The way his voice curled around the Polish word as he mumbled it so quietly made you shiver in his grasp, even more so as he pressed a wet kiss under your ear before pulling away. “You draw shapes, and I’ll make these letters look better, okay?”

You worked in tandem, sharing jokes and funny stories as you worked to fill the space, until it was a colourful explosion that really was an eyesore, but you were more than proud of it, the two of you having overcrowded the space trying to fit as many doodles and shapes in as you possibly could. There was more paint than stone now able to be seen, a mixture of expert and amateur, clearly showing which parts were your additions and which parts were his, and yet it felt like the perfect combination of the two of you on the wall. 

He appeared only moments later, wiping away the paint stains on his fingers, having swapped the box of cans out for the mobile phone you had left laying on the seat, holding it up for you with a smile. “Pose, I’ll take a picture of you with your art.”

You beamed, holding your hands up excitedly as you stood before it, a wide grin on your face and he laughed, opening up the camera and taking a few photos for you, before holding out your phone in order to show them to you. You set one as your lock screen, uncaring as to who might see it, because you hadn't seen yourself this genuinely happy in a photo in a long time. You even managed to persuade him into taking a few selfies with you, promising that if he smiled with you that you would never show them to anyone, they were just for you to remember this day by, and he had begrudgingly agreed. 

The oncoming evening had been filled with you answering your parents’ angry texts about skipping school with a simple message that said you were fine and that you’d be home when you were ready to be, before he had taken your hand in both of his, pocketing your phone in the back of his jeans before kissing your knuckles and weaving your fingers together. 

He took you on a walk down to the edge of the lake to watch the sun lowering in the sky as the colours changed from pale blue to soft hues of orange and pink, the sun not quite setting, but certainly heading toward that destination on the horizon. His hand had never left yours, even when the two of you had toed off your shoes and waded in the shallow waters of the lake edge, before making your way back up to the car. 

That was how you found yourself huddling close to him as the two of you sat on the hood of the jeep, watching the sun inch closer and closer to the horizon. His arm slung over your shoulders, mumbled conversation shared in low tones staring into the distance, unable to recall a time when you’d last been this happy. You moved, rubbing the tip of your nose against the crook of his neck from where you were leaning, and he turned to look down at you, a fond look that had been building progressively over the day, the orange colours in the sky making his eyes look even more golden than usual. 

Your phone was buzzing with texts and you didn’t care, knowing your parents would just be screaming at you to go home, but you felt more at home here in nature with the best day of your life to look back on than you ever did in your own house. 

“Thank you for today. This has been the best day I possibly could have imagined.”

He grinned, brushing his lips against the top of your head as your eyes closed a little, feeling the patterns he was drawing on your arms go still, squeezing gently at your arm as you curled into him further. “It wasn’t just good for you. It was good for me, too. I haven’t connected like this with someone in a long time.”

You nuzzled further into him, sighing out against his skin and wrapping your arms around him tightly as your fingers curled into the material of his jumper. “Y’know, you’re pretty damn great. I like you.”

“I like you too, doll. A whole lot.”

It went quiet for a minute after that, before he was pulling away just enough to look down at you, a hand cupping your jaw to lift your gaze up to his. Deep and searching and intense, he studied your face, his nose brushing against yours, and your lips parted in a gasp, before suddenly, his mouth was closing over your own. Warm, wet and soft, he kissed you delicately, in a way that had butterflies sending your stomach into a frenzy, and your heart pumping so hard you thought your ribs might crack. 

A surprised squeak left your lips, his hands coming down to sit on your waist as he leaned further into you, his head tipping to the side. His fingers felt like they were burning right through your shirt and into your skin, despite the delicate touch he held you with. His teeth scraped at your lower lip, nibbling with such tenderness that you were sighing out into his mouth happily, and he took the chance to slip his tongue out to play with your own. 

The kiss became wetter, and hotter, and needier with every passing second, every tangle of your tongues brought on muffled whines and moans from both of you. Every knock of noses as you pulled back for frantic breaths before diving back in brought you closer and closer each time. You were no longer sitting on the cool metal of the hood, your knees were pressing into the surface as his hands squeezed at your ass, encouraging your hips in the rolling movements they made down into his lap, and your head was spinning with every press of the growing bulge in his pants against your sodden panties under your skirt. 

His tongue was lapping at your skin, sweet kisses littered along your jaw and neck, and you tipped your head back for him, fingers tightening as you gripped at his shoulders, scratching at his skin through his jumper, feeling the tensing of his legs under you as he held you in his lap carefully. 

“I-I want.. um..”

His head pulled back, eyes blown wide with lust as he looked at you, lips wet and red from where he was teasing at your skin, the breeze swiping over you and making you shiver as the night passed on. “Tell me what you want, baby. I want to know everything.”

“You do?”

“I really do. I want to know all your wants-” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, “-and dreams-” his lips met your neck, another kiss on your jaw, before his eyes were closing and his nose was bumping your own again. “-and wishes. Tell me everything.”

His lips met your own, in a slow and tentative kiss that had you whining into his mouth, hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you tried to press further into him. He kept the pace slow and delicate, though, never even allowing his tongue to drag with yours in sensual patterns the way he had previously, before he was cooing into your ear once again.

“C’mon, doll, tell me what you want.”

“I want really good, hot sex.” 

He spluttered, pulling back to look at you as he took on a look of awe and wonderment, and you pressed your hands flat to his chest, feeling his heart race under your palms as his fingers flexed on your hips. “I want it right here. I want to say that I was fucked, in a beat-up jeep on the top of a hill at fucking sunset, where I could have been caught, because it was so damn passionate that we just couldn't wait to go home. I want you to fuck me in your car.”

He nodded vehemently, licking over his lips before they were hanging slack once again, and the last remnants of the bad-boy persona he wore around everyone else slipped away as the spazzy and nerdy side that he covered so well shone through underneath. “You swore. Twice.”

“Guess you’re a bad influence on me.” Your eye dropped in a seductive wink, and he smirked upon seeing it, his grip on your only getting tighter.

“You know, if we’re fucking in the car, I can’t promise that it’ll be good sex, not the best it could be.”

Your forehead pressed to his, little pants leaving your lips and mixing with his and he hummed happily, never once recoiling from sharing space with you so intimately. “It will be good, because I want you, and you want me, and I think it could be spontaneous and romantic.”

“Romantic, huh?” He teased, sliding your bodies down the car, your feet stretching out beneath you to find the grass of the ground, and your skirt slid up in his hands until you could feel the material bunching around your waist at the back, the lace of your panties on full display, for nobody but him to see. 

“Yeah. Romantic.”

“Well, how do you want it? We can try and get the back flat, or-”

“Can I ride you?” He let out a choked noise, eyes sliding shut before his lips were slamming into yours once again, and he was pushing you back around the side of the car, your feet stumbling underneath you as he guided you. Feeling one of his hands leave you to open the side you were used to occupying, his tongue dragged and tangled with yours, erotic sounds filled the air, the dragging of lips together and muffled growls of his as he dove into you again and again.

“I would fucking love it if you rode me, little dove. Take your pleasure, take what you want. I want to see you bouncing on my cock, see your mouth hanging open as you scream and come for me, calling out my name. You want that, too?” His lips were still brushing yours with his words, before he pulled away enough to look at you, running a finger over your swollen lips as you nodded. “Nuh-uh, doll, say you want. I want you to use that sweet voice, and speak up, tell me and the world what you want. Always.”

“I want to ride your cock until I’m seeing stars.”

He grinned, lopsided and cheeky, before dipping his head to hide the slight strawberry-blush crawling up his cheeks. “Good girl. Take what you want from me.”

His back fell back against the metal of the jeep beside the open door, and your eyes sparkled, before you were dropping your down to his belt, your fingers coming up to shakily undo it. He watched you with a dopey grin, letting you tug open the leather to dangle open on either side of the loops. 

The button came next, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumbs rubbed soothing and grounding circles into your skin, dipping under your top to sit on your bare waist. Moving the zipper down, the flaps of the denim hung open and revealed the black boxers he wore underneath, a logo and brand name moving along the elastic, and you dragged a single nail against the dark trail of hairs that formed his happy trail. Following it down until you were pulling down the front of his boxers, as far as they would go with the restraints, until the bushy hairs residing there thinned to reveal the base of his cock. 

Your lower lip was caught prisoner between your teeth, swallowing thickly as you heard his breathing hitch, just barely, but noticeably. 

“Take what you want. Your life, your choices, you just tell me what you want, and don’t want.” He reminded, his words stern but soft, reminding you not only that he wanted you to have freedom from the trap you felt in your life, but also that you didn’t need to feel pressured to continue with him, and your heart skipped a beat at his kindness. Looking up, your other hand came up to sit over his jaw gently, pulling his lips down to yours and he let out a satisfied sound as you gave him a deep but loving kiss, portraying all your thanks and unspoken cares into the exchange. 

Your hands slipped down into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his cock and pulling him free, a whine on his lips as you did and his jaw hung open, head falling back to rest against the car. “I want you.”

“You got me, doll. I’m all yours.” He promised, trying not to buck up into your hand as your thumb smeared the thick precum around his tip, slicking up his skin as you pumped at his shaft. Your movements were slow and torturous, the way his face was screwed up in agonising pleasure was enough to tell you so, and you congratulated yourself mentally on being able to get that reaction out of him. 

With each slow drag, you took his skin up until it was almost stretched over his head, before sinking back down into place and he was letting out shaky breaths as you moved. You pressed your lips to his neck softly, feeling him tip his head to the side to give you more access, to allow you more space to move as you worked at his skin, picking up your pace and hearing him huff out at the feeling, his body stiffening.

You were nervous at first, just pressing kisses along his skin, but he encouraged you, broken moans and grunts under his breath when your tongue came out to flick across his skin, feeling him shudder under your touch as he gave up on his restraint and began to fuck up into your fist to meet your rhythms. 

“I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to go back to who I was before today.”

Your face was pressed into his neck when you spoke, before you nipped at the underneath of his clean-shaven jaw in a teasing way, and a high-pitched sound left him when you did. “I won’t leave you, I won’t let you go back.” He struggled with himself, but his fingers found your wrist, pulling your hand from him and letting out something between disappointment and relief as your touch left him. His cock stood tall in the air, dripping and flushed as it pointed out towards you, before he was pushing his pants down around his thighs and hopping up into the passenger seat. “Panties off, doll.”

His voice was deep and husky, brows raised as he watched you giggle, before bending at the waist and wiggling the lace down along your creamy smooth legs. He let out a few words of approval as he watched your ass wiggle, before you were climbing in over his lap and steadying yourself with hands on his shoulders. Seating yourself in his lap and pulling the door shut, you tossed your panties into the driver's seat, his eyes following them, before flicking up to watch you where you were perched in his lap. 

You toed off your shoes, hearing them fall away to the jeep floor, before you were simply watching him. His red cheeks and kiss-bitten lips and messy hair were captivating, and even in the slightly darkened atmosphere as the sun set behind you both, he looked utterly beautiful. You shuffled forward until his cock was pressed between you both, taking his hand and lifting the edge of your skirt, pressing the tips of his fingers to your sodden folds. He beamed at you, probing through your slick core until he was pushing a finger into you slowly to test the waters. 

“There’s one more thing I want.”

“Tell me. I’ll give it to you, anything, just tell me.” His voice was just as strained as yours, both of you holding yourselves back, and he swirling the digit within your depth, another one fluttering around your entrance before pushing in to stretch you out, your dripping entrance easily accommodating his digits as you fucked yourself down onto his hand. 

“I want you to mark me up, give me a hickie right here on my neck for everyone to see.”

“My fucking pleasure, doll.” 

With that, he was pushing his fingers up into you faster, as his face buried into your neck, your head tipping to the side and your hair falling away as he set himself to work. All the care he had used prior, when ensuring not to mark your skin was thrown away, and instantly he was licking a wet stripe over the patch of skin he had chosen, high enough on your neck that not even a turtleneck would hide it when it blossomed dark hues in the morning. 

He scissored his fingers and stretched you out as his lips sucked on your skin, teeth nibbling and biting and a warm stinging of the most desirable feeling spread over your neck and chest, just from the feeling of his mouth working against your throat in wet and sloppy rhythms. You knew that the feeling of him, his touch and presence, was burning into your body and mind, for you to forever remember the boy who helped give you your freedom, even if for just one day.

The muscles in your stomach were clenching tightly, needy breaths leaving you, and you cried out as his blunt nails scraped idly at your g-spot, your entire body shaking above him as your nerves electrified. “Now. Need you now, please.”

“Whatever you want.” He pulled his fingers from you, a pornographically wet noise sounding out as he did, and he lifted his fingers up, rubbing them before himself as he smeared your juices over the digits, your cheeks flushing as you watched them shine in the low lighting. Sucking them into his mouth, he winked at you lazily as you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance, and bracing your other hand on the back of the seat. His large palms closed over your hips, helping hold you steady as his tip slipped into you, your jaw hanging open and eyes sliding back as you slipped down his cock slowly. 

It took a few seconds, taking a deep breath and lowering yourself further and further until you were seated in his lap, his pulsing cock encased entirely within your soaked heat, and you both let out joint and needy sounds as you became entirely connected to one another. 

“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good.”

You grinned, his nose tapping underneath your jaw to guide your face back up so that he could capture your lips with his own, and you smiled into the exchange, taking a moment to adjust to his generous length and girth, before beginning to roll your hips down into his. The air around you hung hot and heavy, steam beginning to fog up the windows and you were loving every cheesy and stereotypical minute of it. Soft music was playing from the radio that he had turned on so long ago, when the two of you had returned and decided to watch the sunset and talk, and now as the night rolled in and your bodies moved together, you felt nothing but bliss wash over you. 

“Keep going, just like that. Good girl, so good for me.” His words were gasped out, you never would have placed the stoic boy for one to ramble during sex but you found it endearing, his voice deeper and raspier than all the talking he had done throughout the day, a husk taking over as he began to fuck up into you in a bid to meet your movements. 

The car was squeaking and rocking underneath you, your mind spinning as you held onto the seats so tightly that you thought the fabric might tear, and he was gripping your hips for leverage on his movements so firmly that you knew you’d have ten little fingerprints shaped marks on you in the morning, your stomach clenching gleefully just at the thought of him leaving his mark on you again.

You were already close, both of you having been nearing your peaks previously, but the feeling you had been building before was nothing like this one. Every slick slide of his cock in and out of you brought you heights of pleasure you had never felt before. His tip was pressing to your g-spot each time, your throat was growing raw just from screaming out his name, body shuddering under every time he fucked up into you.

“Please, make me come. I need it.” You mumbled, mouths no longer working together but instead of pressed to one another, tongue occasionally flicking out to lick at one another’s mouths in sweet caresses as you brought one another closer to your peaks. Lifting two fingers up between your faces, he nudged them into your mouth, letting out a deep sound when your lips sealed around the digits as you sucked languidly, coating them with wet spit when he retracted them, before dragging them down over your chin and only seconds later dipping them under your skirt. 

He pushed down harshly on your neglected and throbbing clit, the bud sending sparks along your body and he rubbed quick circles against you, mumbling his encouragements and praises into your mouth, blinding stars flashing in your vision. Your head tipped back, the heat consuming you entirely as the fire that had been licking at your lower belly became an inferno that spread over your whole body. You slammed yourself down onto him, clenching around him tightly as your whole body went stiff, and his arms snaked around you to hold you to him tightly as his face buried in your neck. 

He came crashing into his climax, shaking and mumbling into your skin as you rode through your highs together, sweaty and exhausted bodies clinging onto one another desperately. Even once you had ended, you stayed seated in his lap, steadying your racing heart and taking a moment to catch your breath as you slumped against him. His hands spread out over your back, sweet words whispered into your ear as he pressed light kisses to your hair and temple, content to just hold you tightly as you both came back down to earth from the clouds you’d sent yourselves to. 

Your phone was buzzing between your bodies suddenly, a shrill sound and sudden movement that made you jump in his lap, and he groaned as you did, before pulling a hand back from your body to fish your phone out from the pocket of his jeans that were now hanging around his calves. He held it up before your face, a sigh leaving your lips as your mother's name flashed up. 

You shook your head, putting it down and pressing your lips back to his in a final kiss, before pulling yourself off of him and tugging your panties up your legs, laying sprawled out in the driver’s seat.

“You’re out pretty late, you really should let me drive you home now.”

“I don’t want this to end. When it’s just me and you, it’s good.” He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face, before he was lifting his hips and adjusting his jeans, tucking his cock inside of them and sorting himself out before he was rounding the vehicle to stand outside of the car beside you. Your legs came up on either side of his waist as large hands rubbed at your thighs, and he brushed his lips to your forehead. 

“The person I showed you today, I can’t be that all the time, that’s not how people see me, only you see me. Let me drive you home, m’kay? You were amazing today, but it was enough, alright?” You nodded numbly, letting him peck your lips again before you were crawling across the console and into the passenger seat, yawning a little and resting your head on the window as stars began to twinkle in the sky overhead. 

His hand was on your thigh, calming and warm as he drove, and your hand sat atop his, drawing shapes absentmindedly as you dreaded going home with every mile you gained. Despite everything that was coming over you, you couldn't find it within yourself to regret it, because this one day had been the push you needed to finally acknowledge who you were and what you wanted. 

Your parents had stormed out of the house when they heard the car pull up, they stood fuming in the doorway, and he hadn't cared even a little as he directed your face back to his and pressed your lips together in one final connection, before he was opening the door for you, and smirking as he told you how nice it was to meet the real you. He was driving away from the curb before you’d even reached your parents, and even though you felt like all your confidence and security was driving away with him, you stalked straight past the pair of them and into the house, holding your head high as your heart felt weightless.

The following morning, you were proudly wearing the huge purple love bite on the side of your neck, knee-high socks that you had never worn before were tugged up over your knees and pressed to your bare skin as a skirt swished around your legs, a cropped jumper instead of a blazer on your arms. It wasn’t a radical change, but it was making you feel different, and that was enough for you. 

It had been hours that you had lay awake in your bed, thinking over your life before finally falling asleep, and you had decided that today would be the start of a new you. Whiskey browns eyes met yours as he stood beside his jeep with a few of his friends, his lips twitching up at the edges but head staying ducked, and you had just enough time to return the smile and nod at him in a friendly way before his attention was being snapped away to the conversation, and you were walking into the main college hall building, and heading straight for the bulletin board.

There were a lot of sign-up sheets and campus clubs that all had your name on, and that had to change. Producing a pen from the side pocket of the bag, you used your teeth to uncap it, lid held there as you began to systematically search for your name, and draw a line through each one.

A shadow fell over you, and your body jumped in shock when a large hand landed on the wall beside your head, body curling around your own. Following the hand up along the arm, you were met with a familiar face and leather-clad shoulders, his body shifting to lean on the all beside your own, and you gave him the best smile you could without it looking forced. 

“What, you not talking to me today, doll?” He reached up, taking the lid from between your lips, and wiping his thumb under your lip to remove the smeared lipstick. Your breath hitched, heart stuttering in his chest.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to!” You mumbled, and his brows shot up in amusement, hands tucking into his pockets as he watched your body stiffen as you prepared for the inevitable verbal mess that was about to pour from you. “You said you couldn't be that person every day, and that yesterday was ‘enough’, and I don’t know if you want more from me like I want more from you, and now you’re looking at me with that stupid smirk and I can’t read it. I don’t know if I’m supposed to kiss you, or pretend I don’t know you”

You huffed, your body running out of breath as your voice came to a halt. He took one of your hands in his own, the other coming up to sit on your neck as his thumb smoothed over the mark he had left on you. “I’m personally a big fan of that first option.”

You grinned, tipping your head up to face him more and puckering your lips eagerly, feeling his chuckle more than you heard it as he leant down to let his mouth meet yours. Your lips dragged together, soft and just wet enough for ease of movement, and there was nothing sexual about this kiss, but pure affection, the feeling that someone actually cared about you and what you wanted, and you knew it to be true. 

“How about I walk you to your lecture, and later we can skip out, and I’ll buy you lunch while you tell me about how last night with your parents went?”

“Can we get curly fries? I really liked those curly fries.” The hand that was connected with yours lifted to tuck you under his arm as your hands stayed connected, and he guided you through the corridors, both of you ignoring the looks cast in your direction as he laughed lightly into your hair and nuzzled at your temple. 

“‘Course we can, doll, whatever you want, remember?”

You nodded, settling your head to lean into him, feeling him squeeze you tighter to his body. This was what you wanted. You wanted freedom, and love, and the promise of fun and exploration in your future, and this man could give it to you.

#void stiles #void stiles imagine #void stiles smut #void smut #void stiles/reader #void stiles x reader #void stiles x reader smut #void stiles/reader smut #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien teen wolf #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut #void month #nogitjune masterlist #nogit-june

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol