#if you have ever had to whip half a cup of cream in a six quart mixer

[art-deco-shrimp]

Talked to my boss at work (where, for context, I am a professional baker) about the idea of making a single macaron at a time ever, let alone once a week, and she agreed that it's a thoroughly ridiculous idea. So. Marinette makes a dozen passionfruit macarons every week, picks out the best one for Adrien, and doesn't want to just toss the rest out. She and her family and even Tikki are getting tired of eating the rejects (never mind the one that inevitably goes stale and Marinette has to throw away regardless), so she starts bringing them on patrol to give to Cat Noir.

#fic prompt #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #love square #ladynoir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #cat noir #macarons #if you have ever had to whip half a cup of cream in a six quart mixer #you understand

[ggomos-maribat]

The Assistant Poser

For the wonderful @miraculousmelodies

Tim was hanging by a thread. He forgot that his assistant was out for the day, so he had to do the legwork, the coffee-making and work sorting. While Tam did send an email saying she was bringing in a substitute, said substitute hadn't arrived yet, leaving him to deal with the work tornado.

He burst back into his office in fuzzy rabbit slippers, neglecting his misaligned tie and tousled hair that was attacked way too many times by his weaving fingers. The company was having a partner project with a fashion house and a meeting for it was set for that afternoon.

He cursed, remembering that he forgot an important post-it on Tam's desk and hurried back out. At that moment, he saw a short professionally-dressed woman coming towards him.

Tim sighed in relief. "You must be the assistant. Thank god you're here." He shoved the stack papers in her hands. "Have these sorted out A.S.A.P. and please get me a large cup of iced coffee---"

The woman blinked at him. "Wait---"

"Right! My order is a large caramel macchiato with one half soy milk, and one half whole milk, six and one quarter pumps of vanilla, caramel drizzled on top---"

"I don't think you---"

"But no caramel on the sides please. Those are so hard to reach sometimes. Oh, and add five shots of espresso, whipped cream on top and a sprinkle of cinnamon." He paused with a yawn. "Did you get all of that?"

His temporary assistant raised an eyebrow. "A large caramel macchiato with one half soy milk, one half whole milk, six and one quarter pumps of vanilla, caramel drizzled on top but not on the sides, five shots of espresso, whipped cream on top and a sprinkle of cinnamon."

"Also, please go over the files we'll be using for the meeting with Venus Fashions today and check if there's a typo because I cannot afford to embarrass myself and this company in front of their representative." He ushered her out for her to do her work. It was roughly four hours before their scheduled meeting and he still had to change.

Tim slumped on his office chair after he was finally alone. He mentally reminded himself not to work without an assistant ever again.

The woman came back no more than fifteen minutes after. She got his order perfect, down to a tee, and his sleep-deprived self couldn't be any more grateful. "I'm really sorry. I didn't get your name last time." He gave her a small smile.

"Umm . . . Marinette." She plopped down the sorted files on the edge of his desk. "By the way, there is a misspelling on the VF contract. 'Plait' is supposed to be 'plaid'."

"Oh, thanks for catching that. Can you shoot an email to the other staff to have them correct and reprint the documents?"

Marinette examined him for a minute before saying, "Sure thing."

"And errr, from your standpoint, do you think WE's offers are feasible?" Tim ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time that day. "I'm scared Venus isn't going to accept. They're pretty picky with the companies they partner up with and . . . this is just a personal thing, okay? But I'm a huge fan of their products and scheme so I can't ruin this deal."

Marinette chuckled. "Don't worry. I think the contract will appease them. And this is Wayne Enterprises. Who are they to decline them?"

They went over more files before Marinette went out again to do work of her own. Tim stretched on his chair. She was a literal godsend to him---proficient and detail-oriented as an assistant. Maybe he could consider getting her an official position in WE when Tam comes back.

As his heavy-lidded eyes stared at the screen in front him, his gaze caught the email Tam sent in early that morning.

. . . inform you that I was not able to get you a substitute assistant so you will have to . . .

Not able to get . . . 

Tim practically leapt out of his seat, reading the words over and over again. Fuck! If Tam didn't get an assistant, then who . . .?

He dug into their files for Venus Fashions and prayed. He realized that Marinette's face was extremely familiar and he hoped that the reason why wasn't what he was thinking.

---

Marinette flipped through the pages inside the folder as they waited in the conference room. "Adrien? Do I look like an assistant?"

Adrien pushed his glasses up his nose. "No . . .? You look like the usual. I look more like an assistant." He gave her a pointed look. "But I told you your shoes are weird."

She scoffed, skimming through the contract again. After all those years, fate truly had done a whirlwind on her life. She thought she'd be living her childhood dream as a fashion designer, but instead, she got into modeling---gaining a massive interest in it---and became a shareholder and representative of Venus Fashions.

"Hey, I like my shoes," she retorted.

"Why? What did you do?"

"Me?" She grinned innocently. "I did nothing."

"No you did. I can tell." Adrien clicked his pen repeatedly. "You went to the cafe downstairs, ordered a drink that looked like it could poison you, and I never saw you drink it. And then you disappeared for like, an hour."

"Ehh, I'll tell you about it later."

Her gaze went into the walls of the room. The walls were electronically switched to be transparent at that moment. She could see the CEO Tim Drake visibly freaking out outside, with his employees trying to calm him down. He was dressed more appropriately compared to before, but his dark circles and messy hair stayed the same.

When he opened the door and saw her, he blanched right away.

Adrien stood up. "Mr. Drake. It's a pleasure to meet you." He shook hands with a silently panicking Tim. "Adrien Graham de Vanily. Assistant Representative in Venus Fashions. This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, our main representative and the project co-leader."

Tim smiled stiffly at her. "Ye---yes. It's nice to meet you both too."

Throughout the meeting, Marinette noticed Tim stammering over his words occasionally and sneaking worried glances at her. Adrien would also side-eye her, but it spoke of confusion and reproach instead.

Monsieur Drake's probably dying to apologize, Marinette thought. Truth be told, she didn't mind that mishap. It was quite amusing.

She sat back and watched Tim accidentally drop his laser pointer while the other WE staff stared helplessly. Her fingers drummed on top of her lap. I think I'll be looking forward to this project. 

Permanent Taglist: @the-coffee-fandom @tinybrie On AO3

#timari #timinette #maribat #maribat fanfic #maribat fic #meet cute #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat marinette dupain cheng #dc x miraculous #duckie deserves the entire world!

[bandaged-writer]

𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗜𝗧 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧.

↠ pairing. dazai x reader

↠ genre. angst, heartbreak, happy ending

↠ warnings. not proof-read

↠ words. 1k

↠ summary. you knew that if you turned around, you would never be able to let dazai go and let him have the life he deserved

↠ notes. it's been actual years since i've posted anything on this account and the first thing i write at 7 am gotta be angst 👩🏻‍🦯 anyways, i hope you enjoy this little something i whipped up on a whim ✨

When the lights illuminating Yokohama were exceptionally pretty, in a spot that only you and Dazai knew, the birds were still chirping underneath the setting sun. The sky, dipped in hues so blue that it rivalled the sadness within the man's heart, hung above you like some sort of omen.

"You called me out here to say goodbye, didn't you?" Breaking the silence first, you gave Dazai a smile. One that he admitted to adore when he thought you were sound asleep in his bed.

"How did you know?" Dazai asked, a rare, surprised glimmer in those eyes that always seemed so void of any life left.

You chuckled, it lacked any humor. "I have heard of Odasaku's passing, Osamu. Rumor had it that a mafia executive went after him and never came back. I had a hunch it was you."

Dazai let a half-smile grace his features. Attentive as always, although your head seemed to be up in the clouds, believing in everything that was deemed good, but refusing to judge him who had done everything that was deemed evil.

Before Dazai could speak another word, you beat him to it. "You wish to leave, don't you?"

Not the brightest tool in the shed, they liked to call you. But you had managed to figure Dazai out, an endless puzzle of complex thoughts and an inexplicable desire for death that ran as deep as the ocean. Despite that, you willingly drowned in his sea.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" Dazai came to a stop in the middle of a field of grass, trees and dandelion seeds as he took in your appearance.

Your eyes got glassy underneath the last sunrays and threatened to spill like an overflowing sink and for once, Dazai understood a feeling he had never quite felt before until he lost Odasaku and stood in front of you.

The fear of losing those he loved.

He always said that the things worth wanting were always lost the moment he obtained them, yet he feared this moment, because this was the end of the one good thing he managed to obtain.

Dazai remembered the day he met you for the very first time at Lupin by Odasaku's side. The only person left of a small-scale group, Oda had said while you were shoving a piece of strawberry cake down your throat. Oh, how horribly you had cried and how hilarious you looked with whipped cream stuck to the corner of your lips.

Back then, Dazai hadn't thought much of you. You were merely another person with another tragedy upon their shoulders. Too innocent, too soft for the mafia. Not even one good quality did you possess that could qualify you to be part of the Port Mafia.

Each time Dazai had seen you again, you'd prove him wrong and his interest in you was the demise of the heart he had buried six feet under.

"It's okay if you wish to leave. I won't stop you," you said and cupped Dazai's cheeks. His skin was warmer than usual, you silently noted.

"I will never see you again once we turn our backs on each other. Are you sure?" He leaned into your touch, his hand resting atop yours.

"Of course!" Now, the tears were rolling down your cheeks and you cussed underneath your breath. "Ah, you shouldn't see me cry. You have to remember my smiling face!" Hurriedly, you wiped the tears from your face and forced a smile upon your lips. "Girls look prettier when they smile, after all."

Dazai couldn't help the light-hearted laugh slipping his lips or his hands that dried your tears. "Belladonna, how could I ever forget your smile?"

The last sniffles left you. "Promise?"

"..I promise."

And when dandelion seeds got stuck in Dazai's hair while he was wearing a smile so gentle, you knew it was the right decision to let him go. Whatever plan he had up his sleeve, you knew it was better than being stuck in this hell disguised as the mafia.

Yes, he'd be well.

Even if it was without you, this was all you had ever wanted for the man you had terribly fallen in love with.

He'd be well.

Standing on your tippy toes, fingers grasping the soft fabric of his blazer, you pressed a kiss to Dazai's cheek. Your breath fanned across his skin as you spoke in soft, broken tones. "Take care, Osamu."

A heart heavy as lead beat within your chest as you turned your back to Dazai and walked away. Each step was more painful than the previous, each step tore that heart within you apart, but you couldn't bear to see the face Dazai was making.

You knew that if you turned around, you would never be able to let Dazai go and let him have the life he deserved.

It wasn't until five years later that Kunikida pulled Dazai back to the Agency after his hell of a partner nearly buried himself on a client's farm. Kunikda was certain that he would die of a heart attack caused by none other than the bandage-wasting machine that went by the name of Dazai Osamu.

"If you wanna bury yourself, do it in your free time! Because of you, our next client has been waiting 5 minutes and 35 seconds longer than scheduled!," Kunikida scolded his colleague, dragging him up the stairs by the collar like a sack of potatoes.

Dazai whined. "You sure love your schedules, huh?"

When Kunikida ripped the door open and the light coming from within the Agency briefly blinded Dazai, he could hear chatter and laughter coming from within. One voice belonged to Yosano, another one to Tanizaki and the other one to someone who he had silently cherished like a prayer in his heart.

"Oh! There they are." Yosano said.

After years of vowing to yourself to not turn back, you finally did. Not a hint of regret lingered in your eyes when you saw Dazai again and smiled at him like you always did when he used to cross paths with you in the mafia.

The decision to let him go that evening was indeed the right one, you concluded after seeing the spark of something in his eyes.

"Right. I have a request for you."

#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader

[simplytheevebest]

for the ask game: Road Trip

The prompt: a road trip with the Winx girls and Farah. The plot: secondary. It doesn't have to make sense, and it doesn't. Post s1, Farah is recovering at the Peters' while the girls hold down the fort at Alfea -until a major confrontation with Rosalind burns Alfea to the ground. Now they're driving cross-country (California to Tennessee) because I say so, and to throw Rosalind off their trail they stop at several landmarks and attractions, like the world's largest ball of twine.

Farah’s jolts awake as the car slows almost to a stop, not even aware she’d fallen asleep in the first place, but it’s not the rapid decrease in movement that has her sitting up, it’s Stella’s gasp. What she assumes, with a pounding heart and head to match, is a gasp of fear, is actually one of delight. Bloom rolls down the window to speak into the oversized microphone, then turns back to her companions: they’re at a Starbucks.

“Orders people, let me have them.”

“Pink drink extra strawberry pump with coconut milk please,” is Stella’s demand.

“In the morning?” Terra questions, but wastes no more time ordering her own drink, Aisha and Musa right behind her. Bloom parrots them to the barista, then turns expectantly to her headmistress.

“Coffee.”

“Duh,” Bloom replies in a tone that would normally have Farah calling her out on it. “Cream, sugar? Caramel pump? Foam?”

“Black, please.”

“Size?”

“Medium.”

Farah knows that’s not what it’s called here, but she’s only ever been to a Starbucks on a layover for a long haul from Newark to San Diego and having had absolutely no reason to remember the difference between a venti and a grande, she quickly deleted that information from her mind. She’d had far greater things to worry about, at the time, like the potential changeling she’d been on her way to meet. The same changeling blinking at her from the driver’s seat.

“Ma’am? Anything else?” The tinny voice of the barista asks, and Bloom leans back out the window.

“A tall regular black coffee, and six croissants, thank you.”

“Please pull around to pay.”

Farah’s palm has found a permanent resting place against her forehead, trying to knead the tension from it: so close to what she presumes is a heavily populated area, her magic has taken advantage of her minimal-rest to reach out, inviting far more thoughts than she’s awake enough to process. Someone nearby, likely within the very building they’re waiting outside of, is projecting a very loud, angry conversation with their cheating spouse, and Farah grinds her teeth, the lapse in decorum not missed by her former students; she’s too tired and stressed to rectify it immediately. She manages to smooth her expression by the time the coffee is handed to her, thankfully easily identifiable from Bloom’s by it’s plainness: the girl’s own cup is almost overflowing with whipped cream and what might be chocolate sprinkles. Though Farah prefers tea, generally, coffee is her vice for a quick caffeine boost, but she’s never understood the need to disguise it behind copious amounts of flavored syrup and sugar. The coffee is bitter and probably not worth it’s price; the croissant is probably good, but chewing takes the energy Farah is relying on the coffee to give her, and the single bite she manages is heavy and tasteless on her tongue.

“We’re about four and a half hours from Yosemite,” Bloom reports, and though Farah had heard her declaration of destination earlier, it’s only now it sinks in. She recalls with startling clarity the location of the national park being perpendicular to their route.

“Bloom-”

“I know, Miss Dowling, I know it’s out of the way. But the less predictable we are, the less likely we’ll be easily tracked. If she follows us, she’s going to have to figure out where we’re going to figure out where we are, and I refuse to make it easy for her.”

“Hear hear,” Musa chants.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the sudden burst of energy on top of the exhaustion, maybe it’s the stress of the situation, or maybe it’s a combination of it all, but Farah’s almost impressed at Bloom’s thinking, which is at least fifty percent ruled by teenage impulsivity, and fifty percent sound logic. Sixty-forty. Still, if they’re destined to flee across states Farah’s unfamiliar with, in a country she’s only been to once, in a world foreign to everyone in the car but the teenager behind the wheel, they might as well make the most of it. She won’t begrudge the girls for even having a little fun with it. They’re going to be trapped in the car for hours on end anyway, there might as well be worthwhile destinations beyond a motel or hotel. It won’t do anything for her stress levels, but the longer they’re out here, the better chance she has of replenishing her magic. The first world isn’t entirely bereft, after all, it’s only lost its roots, and what better place to recharge from the nature around her than a national park?

#fate winx saga #fate: the winx saga #fate the winx saga #ftws #fate asks #fate ask game #fate fics

[katzkinder]

Advent

“I’ll be home for Christmas, I promise.”

Seven years Mahiru had heard his uncle say those words, and six years he had been disappointed by them. Yet again, he smiled, injecting as much false cheer into his voice as he could.

He’d gotten very good at it.

“Yeah, of course! Don’t push yourself though, okay? I know this time of year is extra busy for you…”

It didn’t stop Christmas from being an extra lonely affair.

Mahiru understood it well enough, don’t get him wrong. He was getting older, and his uncle was busy with work, and he tried not to be bitter about it, but… After the first three years of sitting alone in the apartment with a family size bucket of fried chicken he couldn’t possibly hope to eat himself, after the first three years of holidays without his mother, he had just… Given up.

Knowing the reason why Tooru was never available, try as he might, didn’t make things any easier, either.

At least, this time, he had Kuro. And then on the 25th, he’d be able to go on a nice Christmas date for the first time in his life, too.

From his spot on the couch, eavesdropping on phone call between far too understanding nephew and painfully apologetic uncle, Kuro’s frown deepened.

***

“Behold! The perfect snowball!” Sakuya crowed, thrusting the, true to his word, almost perfectly round, perfectly packed, orb of freezing powder white into an amused Mahiru’s face. With Christmas drawing nearer and nearer, more and more of their class was getting giddy, getting excited, and Sakuya…

“Now, to find the perfect target…”

Was absolutely himself.

A little while later found a shrill voice screeching “Watanuki!!” and Mahiru picked his head up from where he was checking on Kuro, snug in his bag with two scarves loaded up around him for warmth, to see Sakuya racing at breakneck speed away from a royally pissed off Maki, their mutual classmate hot on his tail.

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Gotta catch me fir-!?”

“Ah-”

A yelp, a thud, and one set of pained groaning later, Mahiru cracked open one eye from where he had reflexively squeezed them shut due to Sakuya slipping on a patch of ice. Maki, at least, seemed to have lost her ire, instead jogging to a stop while Sakuya sighed and stared up at the sky with resignation.

“I’ve never had karma hit me so fast…” he mumbled, and Maki snorted, crouched down to offer him her hand.

“Come on you loser, get up. Serves you right.”

“I think my ass is cracked.”

A smack over the head. “I’ll show you cracked!”

“... You gonna rephrase that?”

“Okay you know what?”

“Whoa, wait, let go of my-?!”

Twelve days to Christmas.

Mahiru knelt down in the snow drift Maki had thrown Sakuya into for his smart aleck responses, a grin playing at his lips as the subclass resurfaced with a gasp.

“So,” he began, poking his boyfriend’s shoulder “What have we learned~?”

“Not to antagonize her…”

“Good boy!”

This year wouldn’t be so bad.

***

“Want some hot chocolate?”

Lily’s smile was as sweet and inviting as ever, two mugs, pastel orange and blue with cartoon suns and kittens on them, grasped delicately with pretty, carefully cared for hands. Misono already sat with his own cup, piled high with whipped cream and cinnamon sugar topping, cute little heart shaped sprinkles and even a maraschino cherry. The ones offered to Mahiru and Kuro look much the same, and the heir took a leisurely sip, came away with a little dollop of cream on his nose.

Mahiru tried not to smile too big and reached, gratefully, for the no doubt tongue scaldingly warm drink whose warmth was sure to make his frozen fingers burn in the best of ways. “Thanks Lily. It’s freezing out there…”

Kuro greedily accepted his cup next, teeth chattering against the bone chilling winds they’d found solace from within the almost overly warm halls of the Alicein estate, where multiple fireplaces roared with crackling flames and popping pine cones burned with a comforting scent. Drinks in hand, each half of Sloth pair found themselves cozied up to their respective match from Lust, Kuro even sighing with relief when a fuzzy throw blanket was draped over his shoulders by his younger brother.

“This has gotta be what heaven is like…”

“You think so?” Lily chirped, “We do our best to make sure things are comfortable around here~”

“You should see him puttering around with his fuzzy bunny slippers the kids got him last year,” Misono murmured, snuggled right up against Mahiru’s side like a sentient heater. He shifted, offering shelter underneath his own blanket, and Mahiru gratefully took it, dropped the little cherry at the top of his cocoa into his mouth, sticky and sweet. A teasing smile twisted his lips while Lily brought a hand to his chest in mock offense. “He looks divorced.”

“Well, I never.”

A laugh was shared between them, easy conversation flowing as the warmth of the room and the company seeped into Mahiru the same way the heat from his mug seeped into his hands, defrosted a part of him he hadn’t even realized had been coated with ice. Maybe it was a good thing Misono couldn’t venture far out in this weather, at least this one time. The lights, the decoration, the… Everything of the house, the grounds, it all looked like some grand castle from a storybook, interspersed with paper ornaments and tiny handmade models of things like reindeer, and Santa, candles and angels, all crafted by equally tiny hands.

“Shirota…”

Misono’s voice, uncharacteristically halting, hesitant, broke through Mahiru’s thoughts and he turned his head, made an inquiring noise.

“How do you feel about… Maybe spending Christmas here? With me and Lily. I already talked it over with my father, and he contacted your uncle about it, and…”

Mahiru’s heart sank, just the tiniest bit, knowing that this all but confirmed that, yet again, Tooru wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

“You don’t have to,” Lily suddenly spoke up, quiet, like he was afraid being any louder would spook the room’s occupants, “But we would love to have you both here. The more the merrier, right?”

Ten days to Christmas.

***

“Kuro, come on. What’s taking you so long?”

Mahiru shifted from foot to foot impatiently, checking the time on his phone while he waited for his Servamp to emerge from their bedroom. Getting Kuro ready for any outing was always a pain and a half if it wasn’t as simple as stuffing him in his bag, but winter was the worst by far. Especially with snow still on the ground, Tokyo’s weather patterns not having quite recovered from the beating it took due to the large amounts of Djinn released during the vampire war.

As it turned out, agreeing to spend the holidays at the Alicein estate meant spending them at the estate, and while it was easy enough for Mahiru to pack up everything they needed so Doudou could ship it on over, it left him feeling… Antsy, in a way, and somewhat irritable.

Kuro dragging his feet when they were supposed to be meeting the Lust pair at that very moment to pile everything into the back of the car and then join them for some shopping wasn’t helping things. Eventually, though, Kuro poked his head out around the wall of their entry hall, sheepishly holding his hands out.

“I can’t find my gloves…”

Ah.

Hm.

That. Would in fact be a problem.

Well, at least until they met up with Lily, who was sure to have an extra pair, but even just the short walk to the car waiting down on the street, with its heated seats and hot drinks, would leave the vampire whining, whining, whining…

“Okay, new plan,” Mahiru sighed. “You have super strength. Help me carry this,” he gestured to their luggage, “and I’ll carry the rest, and we can share my mittens. Simple.”

Without waiting for a reply, Mahiru shucked off one of the brown, faux-leather mittens, threw it at his Servamp, and picked up the handle on a suitcase just in time for the buzzer to their apartment to ring, Doudou waiting on the other side to help them get everything down in one trip.

“Jeez, got enough stuff?”

“There’s two of us and it’s eight days. Besides…” Mahiru fidgeted, suddenly self conscious while Kuro moved to stand beside him, readjusting the hem on the mitten just a tiny bit too small for him. “Misono and Lily’s presents are in there, and, well, I also… Brought material to work on more stuff? I dunno. I thought it would be, um. Fun. To do it together.”

A hum, Doudou leaning down to pick up two bags himself, and not saying a word when Servamp interlaced fingers with Eve. “Was just teasing you. Make sure to show me any of shorty’s lumpy failures before he can throw them out.”

“You’re such a bully…”

Eight days to Christmas.

***

Six days left until the big day, and Mahiru found himself piled onto Misono’s bed along with its owner, two Servamps, and a very pricey laptop shared between them for one single purpose.

“Are you sure you did it right?” Misono fidgeted beside him, bundled up in blankets and holding a box of tissues in his lap for his now seemingly perpetually runny nose. Winter never was kind to him, which was a shame, Mahiru thought, considering where his birthday fell.

“It’s just voice call, Misono. It’s a little hard to mess up…”

“I-I know it is! I just! Didn’t know if you knew how to do it!”

“So you don’t want me to show you later?”

“... Please do.”

A sniffle and Mahiru chuckled to himself over how petulant his friend looked.

--Then yelped alongside everyone else in the room when Lawless’s shrill voice suddenly shouted over the speakers.

“MEEEERRY CHRISTMAAAAS!”

“Jerk!”

“Asshole!”

“Lawless!”

“Can’t deaaal…”

“Hey, hey, what the heck’s with that greeting?!” Abruptly he was shoved out of frame by Licht deciding his Servamp had gotten too much screen time, a thump following soon after when he hit the floor. “Whyyy…”

“This angel grants you all his holy blessing for this holy week…”

“Licht! Don’t ignore me?! And don’t just steal my chair!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Licht-san. Is my present for you there yet?”

“We tried to get Sendagaya and Old Child to join, but the inn’s in a complete tizzy with all the guests. Lots of foreigners this year, apparently. …Mostly Italian.”

“Ah, Wor-kun took my advice to advertise to those guys! Hm, my PR skills remain as incredible as ever…”

Same old Lawless, same old Licht…

***

“Hey, kid. A package showed up at your place.”

“Eh? Kuro, did you order something?”

“Why is that your first question and not why they know a package arrived for us…”

Because, at this point, he kind of expected that kind of thing from the, unintentionally overbearing, love the Alicein offered. A fact Mahiru kept to himself as he thanked Doudou and accepted the unassuming brown cardboard box from him. Despite its size, it was lighter than he was expecting, and a quick look at the label gave him an idea why.

“Kuro! Kuro, it’s from London! Youtarou-san and Gear-san sent us something!”

Kuro blinked at him, seeming not quite certain what to make of that, creeping closer after his Eve’s excitement, and his own curiosity, proved too much. “... Huh. Should we open it now…?”

“... Can we?” Both turned to Doudou, who merely shrugged at them.

“Don’t look at me. Not my package, and I’m not your parents either. Do what you like.”

“Well…” Mahiru started, “It would be rude to make them keep wondering if it got here in time, right…? Ah, I feel really bad now! I didn’t think to send them anything…”

“I think it’s fine,” Kuro answered, plucking it right out of his hands and setting about with picking at the boxing tape.

“Hey, Kuro! Be careful!”

“Yeah yeah, just let me… Tsk, the tape tore…”

Twenty minutes, some fumbling, a pair of child safe scissors, and nosy little eyes peeping at them from around hall corners and pillars, Mahiru and Kuro finally managed to get their package safely opened inside Misono’s room, the young heir also peering over their shoulders, dainty brows angled with curiosity.

“Did Sleepy Ash really try to go at it with his claws…?”

“Yes,” was Mahiru’s unimpressed answer, throwing a look at his sulking Servamp. “He’s so impatient about this kind of thing…”

“Mm, Lily can get the same way. And then he pouts when he breaks a nail.”

“Misono…!”

“Oh please, they already know you’re a disaster.”

The hand knitted blanket they found inside was soft, warm, lovingly, beautifully made, and would make an excellent cocoon while attempts were made to enjoy a board game or five with the subclass.

…The Christmas card and sweets were also some great bonuses.

“...Is that…?” Mahiru squinted, not quite sure if he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Lily turned away, at least trying to remain polite in the face of…

“Incredible,” Misono drawled, while Kuro didn’t even make any kind of effort to hide how much he was shaking, “The last werewolf, wearing felted antlers and a little red nose.”

Two days to Christmas.

***

“Have you written your letter to Santa yet?”

“Eh?” When Mahiru looked up, it was to Misono expectantly waiting for his answer. Fidgeting, even. “Um…” His eyes drifted over to Lily, who quickly pretended to be very very busy inspecting a random corner of the bedroom. “... Have you?”

“Of course!” A triumphant look, hands on his hips. “I have the best writing in the house besides Lily, so the kids who don’t know how to write yet always ask me for help.”

“That’s amazing.” Especially considering Mahiru had seen what everyone else’s penmanship looked like by this point.

“Fufufu… It’s nothing special.” Misono’s grin said otherwise, but Mahiru wasn’t going to point it out. “Anyway, if you haven’t, you should do it now.”

“There’s like a day left,” Mahiru weakly protested.

“No matter. The letters have always gotten there in time so long as we give them to Lily.”

“To Lily, huh,” came Kuro’s dry commentary.

“Well, I mean… Who else would mail it off?” Lily’s attempts to look cute didn’t seem to be passing well, not that Misono noticed the unimpressed looks, too busy rifling through drawers for stationary, markers, pens, stickers…

Ah, Mahiru thought, he was looking forward to this, huh…

“Mm! I mean, it makes sense,” Misono continued, “Of course a Servamp who takes care of children like Lily does would have special ways of contacting Santa.”

“What’s the logic there…?”

Kuro’s question was met with a look that clearly communicated what the Eve of Lust thought of his intelligence.

“Santa’s a vampire, duh.”

“Duh. Duh? What do you mean, duh! Why are you acting like that’s the only logical conclusion here!?”

An armful of crafting supplies was dumped right on the floor, Misono sighing as if he were speaking to a child who couldn’t seem to grasp the most simple of tasks while simultaneously plucking pillows and blankets off of his bed. Those, too, were dropped down, almost in a perfect circle.

“Because it is? Shirota, I know you’re not exactly the quickest on the uptake when it comes to magic--”

“Okay now you’re starting to piss me off.”

“But please. Who else other than a vampire could fly, sneak into houses without ever being seen, have an information network vast enough to keep track of all the naughty and nice children, and deliver all those presents under the cover of darkness?”

Mahiru opened his mouth. Closed it. Decided the argument wasn’t worth it, and dragged himself over to where Misono had already flopped onto his stomach to get to work. Given his upbringing… He had to give credit to Lily. It did make sense…

Like hell it does?? Lily, what are you teaching them…!

“So,” he asked instead, dropping gracelessly onto the mound of bedding and wiggling until he got comfortable, “If you already sent your letter off and all that, what’re you writing?”

The fancy fountain pen, a marbled, understated gray-ish purple, classy, sleek, and way too expensive, stopped just scant centimeters above an equally classy set of specially ordered Alicein stationary. A moment later, and the tip met paper, scrawling along in shimmery purple ink.

“It’s for Mikuni.”

“Oh.”

Rustling fabric made Mahiru look up just in time to catch the wistful look in Lily’s eyes as, gracefully, he also knelt down, right across from Misono. “I think I’ll write something, too,” he mused, and laying on his stomach, chose a kiddie looking glittery gel pen in an eye searing pink, then pulled black construction paper his way. Smoothly the pen glided over the paper, leaving sparkles and a perfectly visible, perfectly straight, line of latin letters where his hand had been.

He dots his i’s with hearts, huh.

“Even if I don’t give it to anyone, it’s still nice to get it all down…”

“Is that why you’re writing in English?”

“Nii-san, no peeking. Go make your own.”

“Yeah yeah…”

Looking back down at his own blank page, Mahiru frowned. Getting it all down, huh…

Well.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

***

Christmas Eve, and once again, Shirota Tooru was stuck in the hell hole called the C3 Christmas rush.

“I promised Mahiru I’d be hooome…”

“I know you did,” Iori answered pleasantly, just barely looking up. “You’ve been whining about it for the past fifteen minutes. Honestly, Tooru, you really need to stop making promises to that poor kid you don’t know if you’ll be able to keep.”

“Hrk… Th-that really stings, coming from you…”

“Hey! I always keep my word, thank you very much.”

A knock on the door interrupted their bickering, Iori giving the go ahead for the person on the other side of his office door to enter.

“E-excuse me?” A grunt, and one that looked rather lost at where Tooru had ended up. “Oh, good, you’re here.”

“Ahh, sorry, sorry… When things get like this, it’s easier for Iori and I to do the paperwork together. What’d you need?”

“Here. A last minute delivery from All of Love of Lust.”

“From that one…?” Iori murmured, watching Tooru rise from one of the chairs usually reserved for guests. Mutual shrugs met him. Tooru had no idea what Lily could have wanted, either.

“He said it was important,” was the only further info given.

“Thanks for taking the time to come deliver this. Hopefully things settle down and we can all go home sooner rather than later.”

“Ah, that would be great, huh? Good night, sir.”

“You too. Try and get some rest when you can!”

Shutting the door behind him, Tooru looked over the envelope in his hands. Good quality, black and white, right down the middle, and the Alicein insignia in wax stamping it shut. No mistake to be made. Definitely from Lily, considering not even Mikado could manage time off…

“... Hm.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a letter from…” Eyes scanning the page, his brow furrowed more and more. A click of the tongue. “That guy…” Tooru sighed, folding the paper up and tucking it back into the envelope. “He sure can be nasty…”

Not that he didn’t deserve it.

***

Dear Santa-san

My name is Shirota Mahiru, and I’m seventeen years old. Well, you probably already knew that. I feel really silly writing to you, especially at my age, but… A good friend of mine suggested it to me, so here I am. He said it would be a good idea to just… Write it all down, even if no one ever sees it.

Can I tell you a secret? These last seven years have been… Really, really lonely. So lonely I felt like I might die. But for the first time since my mom died I… A year ago, I started to feel okay again! I’m really happy, and thankful to everyone.

But I still have one big wish I want. I know it can’t happen. It’s not like I resent it or anything, either. Well, maybe a little.

My big, selfish wish… I want my uncle to be home. Not just more often. I want him to be there when I get off of school. I want him to be there when I wake up. I want to eat dinner, and breakfast with him. I want to hear him get up in the middle of the night to sneak food he doesn’t think I know he’s taking. I want to pretend to be asleep while he checks up on me and Kuro…

I think I’d settle for him being home for Christmas. I know you can’t do anything. You aren’t real after all. But since you aren’t real, and no one is going to see this… I think I can also admit something else.

Even though Uncle isn’t here, I’m actually not that lonely anymore. Kuro, Misono, Lily and everyone have been here for me this whole time. I’m really excited to eat dinner with them as a family. I’m not sure how to end this. I guess I just… Want to say thanks. When I asked you as a kid to not be alone anymore, I didn’t think you heard me. But I guess you did. Even if it’s not exactly what I wanted, maybe this is what I needed? Does it work like that? I don’t know.

I’m just rambling now huh.

But I do feel better!

Sincerely

Mahiru

#servamp #kat's katerwauling #pawprints #im gonna be out all day so take this before i go!

[fruitcoops]

If the requests are still open, I watched the try guys trying sexy alcohol video recently (The Try Guys Sexy Alcohol Taste Test is the name of the video) and I was laughing the whole time. I was thinking it would be really fun to have the team do it for a social media video if you wanted to write it! :)

I absolutely love the Try Guys and I’ve been watching their videos for years--thank you so much for suggesting this! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove and the link to the original video is here

TW for alcohol and lots of sexual references

“I’m so fucking excited for this video,” Finn said, drumming his hands on the table.

Remus gave him a disbelieving look. “You have the lowest alcohol tolerance on the entire team, Harzy. I’d be shocked if you were still awake by the end of this.”

“We’ll find out soon enough!” Marlene announced offscreen. “Do the intro and then we’ll get started.”

“Welcome back to Lion Pride, folks! I’m Finn O’Hara—”

“—and I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Dude, you said I could do the intro.”

“I can’t even say my own name?”

“Boys,” Marlene warned.

Finn cleared his throat and turned back to the camera with a bright smile. “Today we’re tasting sexy alcohol, even though I have no idea what that means!”

The video cut to a different table and James waved to the camera. “Hey, everyone! I’m James Potter, and I’m here today with our wonderful captain Sirius Black to taste test sexy alcohol!”

“What qualifies alcohol as sexy?” Sirius asked. “Is it supposed to turn you on, or something?”

“The names are sexy,” Marlene clarified. “Ready for the first one?”

A title card appeared with Drink 1: Sex on the Beach written in cursive letters.

“Sex on the beach!” Remus and Finn chorused, clinking their glasses together and taking a sip. Remus made a face, while Finn looked thoughtful as he smacked his lips.

“Why is it so sour?” Remus coughed, setting the drink down.

“You’re not a fan of sex on the beach?” Finn teased. “This is always the classy lady drink in movies. It’s not bad, actually.”

James’ face scrunched up as he drank and Sirius went through a whole range of emotions, then tried it again. “It’s not better the second time,” he said. “Just…weird.”

“Much like actual sex on the beach, it’s flat out uncomfortable.” James slid the glass out of reach.

“You’ve had sex on a beach?”

“Haven’t you?”

“No, sand gets everywhere even when I don’t strip down.”

“Ha! Loser.” The video transitioned right as Sirius reached over to smack the back of his head.

Drink 2: Buttery Nipple

“A fucking what?” Remus laughed, leaning toward the camera crew. Marlene repeated the name and he nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s what I thought you said.”

Finn sniffed the shot. “Is that butterscotch?”

“It is,” Marlene said.

“Rad. On three. One, two, three!”

They knocked their shots back at the same time and Remus raised his eyebrows as he swallowed. “That’s really not that bad. Best nipple I’ve ever tasted.”

“Very sweet, I like it,” Finn agreed around his grin.

A smile twitched at the corners of Remus’ mouth. “You like the buttery nipple?”

“I do like the buttery nipple,” Finn snorted, sending them both into peals of laughter.

James stared down at his shot glass, then turned to Sirius and opened his mouth; Sirius reached over and covered it with his palm. “Don’t say it.”

“But it really looks like—”

“I know.” Sirius bit his lip, sighed, and downed the shot. “Y’know, that’s actually pretty good.”

James rolled the empty glass between his fingers. “That would give me a wicked headache in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure.”

Drink 3: Suck, Bang, Blow

There was a brief pause as Remus and Finn shared a look. “I think that’s the wrong order,” Finn said after a moment.

Remus nodded. “Bang is generally last on the list if you’re doing it right.”

“It also implies that you’re not sucking on the last part, which is just bad blowjob etiquette.”

“Bottoms up.” Remus tapped the rim of their glasses together and took a sip—almost immediately, he spat it back out. “What in the unholy fuck is that?”

“My whole face is itching,” Finn coughed. “Holy shit, there’s so many different types of alcohol in there that is just tastes like straight-up sugar. I would order this at a bar if I was horny and sad and didn’t care who I went home with.”

“Yeah, this is what you get if you want something that’ll fuck you up.” Remus paused for a second, then covered his mouth with his hand. “You know who would drink this?”

“Who?”

“People who live in Florida.”

Finn’s whole face lit up and he dug around in his back pocket, dialing a quick number on his phone before putting it on speaker; it rang twice before connecting. “ ‘Sup, Finner Finner Chicken Dinner?”

Remus’ jaw dropped and Finn rested his forehead on the table. “Thanks for that,” he sighed. “We’re filming a video for Lion Pride right now.”

“Oh, sick!” the voice on the other end said. “Hey Lions!”

“Hi, Alex!” Marlene called.

“I just have a quick question,” Finn continued. “Have you ever heard of a drink called Suck, Bang, Blow?”

“Hell yeah, they’re super popular down here.”

“Called it!” Remus grinned and high-fived Finn. “Thanks, Hazard.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if anyone is going to have shitty alcohol, it’s you and your bouncy ice.”

“Hey—”

Finn ended the call and put his phone away once again with a gleeful smile. “He’s never going to hear the end of that.”

Drink 4: Amber Moon

“That’s a lot of whiskey,” James said as a crewman handed them their drinks; Sirius whistled lowly and held it up to the light.

“Why are there red flakes in it?”

“Tabasco sauce,” Marlene said off screen.

James nudged Sirius with his elbow. “I bet I can drink this is ten seconds.”

“Do it in five or you’re a coward.”

“You’re on.” He cleared his throat, then tipped the glass back.

“One, two, three, four, five, six!” Sirius pumped his fists in the air with a whoop.

“You counted too fast!” James protested, giving the camera crew a desperate look. “Marley, he counted way too fast!”

“Looks like…” There was a brief moment of silence. “Five point three four seconds, Pots.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the glass down. “It tasted horrible, by the way.”

The video cut to Remus and Finn, who were eyeing the drink suspiciously. “I’ll bite,” Remus said. “What’s the sexy name for a hot sauce and whiskey monstrosity?”

“Amber Moon.”

“That would be my stripper name,” the two said in unison, then turned to each other with identical gasps.

Drink 5: Blowjob Shot

Sirius looked deeply uncomfortable as he set the shot glass on his lap. “Don’t make this weird.”

“What? The part where I’m putting my face in your lap?” James asked with false innocence as a smile spread over his face.

“Merde,” Sirius muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just get it over with.”

“That’s a rude thing to say to someone who’s about to give you a blowjob.”

“You’re not giving me a blowjob.”

James raised his eyebrows and Sirius rolled his eyes, kicking him lightly. “Alright, alright. Do you want to go first?”

Sirius leaned forward, paused halfway down, then cursed under his breath and took the shot glass between his lips, knocking it back in a quick motion. James opened his mouth and the first bit of a fake moan slipped through before Sirius tackled him to the ground.

The video cut for a moment—when it returned, they were sitting in their chairs once again, and James looked incredibly smug as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “Ready, hot stuff?”

“You’re the worst person to have as a best friend.”

James didn’t hesitate before wrapping his mouth around the rim of the glass, then made a noise of panic when it didn’t go down his throat right away. His eyes went wide and he cupped his hand under his face, slapping Sirius’ knee with the other.

“Are you okay?” Sirius laughed. “Just—just knock it back, buddy, you can do it.”

James made a muffled sound and the camera crew started snickering off screen as the whipped cream smudged over his nose.

“His eyes are watering,” Sirius cackled. “Oh, this is karma in action. Is it too much? Spitters are quitters, Pots, you can—"

James glared at him, then choked slightly and spat the shot glass and all its contents onto Sirius’ chest. Dead silence fell over the studio, broken only by the steady drip of the liqueur on the paper below their table.

“Does anyone have a napkin?” Sirius asked after a moment, shaking his hands out.

“I am…so sorry,” James said as he wiped his lower lip.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know! It was doomed from the outset, I guess.” He wrinkled his nose. “I can feel it in my sinuses.”

Remus and Finn both downed their shots easily; neither struggled for more than half a second. They were both a little flushed from the alcohol and Finn hiccupped as they turned back to the camera.

“How did you do that so well?” Marlene asked, clearly amused.

“Frat,” Finn said at the same time Remus shrugged and said, “college.”

“Pots spat his all over Sirius.”

“It’s because he’s straight.” Finn hiccupped again and Remus burst out laughing.

Drink 6: Body Shot

“Who are we doing this off of?” James asked. All four men sat at the same table; Sirius had removed his flannel and James’ cheeks were pink from five—well, four and a half—drinks.

“Guess who, bitches!” Kasey grinned as he walked out from behind the backdrop, clad only in his Lions sweatpants. James, Finn, and Remus cheered while Sirius put his head in his hands. “Shit, Cap, you’re doing wonders for my self-esteem.”

“Is this a power imbalance?”

“I’m older than you, now move your elbows so I can lay down.”

The folding table creaked as Kasey laid on his back and all five of them froze for a second until Marlene emerged with salt, lime slices, and a bottle of clear alcohol under her arm. “Do you know how this works?”

Four nods answered her and she carefully poured the tequila into Kasey’s bellybutton—he jolted at the cold and some of it spilled down his sides. “Aw, man, now my pants are damp.”

“Where—” Remus cut himself off with a laugh as he took the salt. “Where do you want us to salt you, Bliz?”

“Wherever your heart desires.” They passed the container down the line, each sprinkling a pinch somewhere on Kasey’s bare chest. “Ready?”

Finn wrinkled his nose as he licked the salt, sipped some tequila, and quickly put the lime wedge in his mouth with a distressed sound. Remus was next, and he barely skimmed his mouth over Kasey’s belly button before shoving the lime between his teeth; James missed his mark completely because Kasey was still laughing, and Sirius got some of it up his nose on accident.

“You guys suck at this,” Kasey managed as he sat up, brushing the leftover salt off his front. “Jesus Christ, have any of you been to a party in your lives?”

All four exploded into indignant protesting and the video transitioned to a final slide. “Thanks for joking us today, Lions!” Marlene said in a voiceover. “Make sure to like and subscribe for more content.”

[simplyclockwork]

I love what you did with Sherlock stuck in the window frame. Sherlock trying to be arch and aloof still but a bit defeated and John caring and meeting Sherlock’s needs. I’d love to have a fic that is John shaving Sherlock (out of some sort of medical necessity) but it leads to intimacy or the promise of intimacy in the future. I know John shaving Sherlock has been done before, but I’m sure your take on it would add hugely to the greater good!

Hey anon! Thanks so much for your patience. I've finally filled this prompt. You can read it below the page break or on Ao3 here!

Please feel free to send future prompts anytime as long as you don't mind waiting a while for the fill.

Thank you :)

---

“Stop fidgeting,” John snapped as Sherlock wriggled for the umpteenth time under his ministrations.

Sherlock stopped with a huff. “I need to check on my experiment,” he protested, though he remained perfectly still. “You’re taking too long, John. You shave like a man who has never handled a blade before.”

“I may have handled a gun far more than a blade, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accidentally lop off your ear if you don’t sit bloody well still!” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed him more firmly into the kitchen chair. “Lord above, are there snakes in your pants?”

“Hurry up, John!” Sherlock snarled, squirming once more.

John, trying valiantly to keep Sherlock from slitting his own throat on the razor pressed against the vulnerable expanse of his skin, jerked the blade back. “Christ, Sherlock, stop moving! The sooner you shut up and sit still, the sooner this will be over with.” He shot a baleful glare at the cluttered surface of their kitchen table. “What kind of experiment are you doing with one working hand — non-dominant, might I add — anyway?”

“One surely beyond your simple mind,” Sherlock replied peevishly, making John roll his eyes.

“You and your miserable mood can both sod off,” John grumbled, biting back harsher words and making a concerted effort to soften his reprimand.

Sherlock had been absolutely horrid ever since he’d broken nearly every bone in his dominant hand in a brawl with a murder suspect. The man had slammed his foot down on Sherlock’s hand when Sherlock slipped on the rain-wet street during their tussle. Recovery had been a slow and painful process as the splinted hand turned alarming shades of black and blue while the bones and tendons healed. John couldn’t honestly blame Sherlock for his mood, but that didn’t make him easier to deal with. He struggled with even the most basic tasks, leaving John to support him in mundane functions. It had begun to wear on them both — Sherlock far more than John as he took repeated blows to his independence — bringing out Sherlock’s nastier side.

Which brought them to that morning, to John’s day off from the surgery. He'd been woken just shy of six am by a petulant Sherlock, who had insisted that his stubble had grown far too coarse to abide any longer. He’d stood — loomed, more like — over John as John blinked the sleep from his eyes and watched Sherlock scratch agitatedly at his stubbly jaw, chin and cheeks. Now, here they were, with John making a valiant effort to shave Sherlock’s face while Sherlock squirmed with the force of five hundred angry snakes.

“Do I really have to do this with a straight razor?” John asked for the fifth time, already knowing Sherlock’s answer before it was bit out through bared teeth.

“Disposable razors are a farce,” Sherlock said, muscles flexing under his damp skin as his jaw clenched. “I require a closer shave, which is only possible with a straight razor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John sighed, just as he had the four times before. “I know. Well, if you want me to do this, then you need to bloody well sit fucking still so I don’t cut your throat. Not even you would enjoy that murder.”

Sherlock muttered something that John missed.

“What?”

“I said, it would be manslaughter, not murder,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s only murder when it is premeditated.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, struggling not to lose the tenuous hold he still retained on his temper. “Who says it wouldn’t be premeditated?” John prayed for patience and opened his eyes again. “Stop clenching your teeth,” he ordered, smoothing his fingertips over Sherlock’s tense jaw. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and tensed more, making John sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just shave my face, John,” Sherlock muttered, some of the aggression mysteriously gone from his voice as he closed his eyes.

John shrugged and smoothed more shaving cream where his first application had dried. Sliding his fingers into Sherlock’s curls, John gently tilted his head back over the table and bent to set the razor against Sherlock’s skin. As he did, the sharp edge brushing Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock swallowed, making his throat bob beneath the blade. John paused warily, eyes fixed on the subtle motion. It seemed deeply vulnerable to him, inspiring an unexpected surge of protectiveness that caught him off guard.

He was still reeling with it when Sherlock cracked open one eye and squinted at him. “Something wrong?”

Did John imagine it, or did Sherlock’s voice sound strained? He studied the familiar face, searching for clues. But Sherlock had closed both eyes again, his expression perfectly blank.

“I haven’t got all day, John,” he reminded him sharply, though his voice lacked its earlier bite.

“Right,” John said, clearing his throat. He shook his head, banishing the strange feelings. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your incredibly important tinkering.”

“Experiment, John,” Sherlock corrected him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite his admonishment.

“Mhm.” John refocused, his feelings of confusion somewhat settled by the familiar cant of their banter. He hesitated over Sherlock’s throat and decided to start somewhere else. Setting the blade at the top of Sherlock’s cheek, John carefully drew the razor’s edge through the shaving cream. It was much fancier than his own brand, which came in a can and looked more like whipping cream than shaving material. Predictably, Sherlock’s came from a bar, complete with a rounded brush to spread the lather. It smelled like pine and explained some of what John had come to think of as Sherlock’s natural scent.

Reigning in his wandering thoughts, his brow furrowed, John wiped the blade clean and set it back to Sherlock’s skin. He cleared a strip next to the first, pausing only when his left hand gave a slight twitch. John cursed his intermittent tremour silently, retracing the same area to erase the few spots he’d missed. A stubborn fleck of dried lather remained in his path, and John reached out to smooth it away with his thumb. Sherlock’s cheek twitched at the touch. John paused, thumb resting on Sherlock’s skin, when he saw that Sherlock’s eyes were open. Half-open, to be exact, with dark silver peeking out beneath his long, lowered lashes.

Something about that gaze froze John in place, the moment stretching out until he broke free with a quiet, awkward cough. Ducking his head to clean the blade again, John bought himself time, fussing with the flannel until he looked up again and saw that Sherlock’s eyes were closed once more. A relieved sigh escaped him before he could bite it back, and John was glad to see Sherlock didn’t react or comment on the sound.

He returned to his task with far more care, gritting his teeth at even the idea of his hand twitching. The rest of the foam disappeared gradually beneath John’s determined hand, revealing more and more of Sherlock’s damp, freshly-shaven face. Sherlock sat mostly still throughout, finally settled, his expression oddly peaceful. If not for the occasional shifting of his legs — crossing and uncrossing at the thigh whenever John paused to wipe the blade clean — he might have been a statue.

“Aright,” John finally said once Sherlock’s face was clear. “Just your throat left. Make sure not to move.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Sherlock grumbled, frowning at John’s incredulous laugh. He didn’t bother to reply, and John hoped that meant he would do as bid.

Taking a deep, calming breath, John braced a hand on the chair back, trying to find the right angle. It was awkward, and he reconsidered. After a moment of hesitation, he shook off his anxiety and cupped Sherlock’s jaw at the hinge. Sherlock’s eyes flew open at the contact, clearly startled, his lips parting around a small gasp. To John’s immense relief, he held still otherwise.

John chose to ignore the odd reaction, gently tilting Sherlock’s head back and to the side as he maneuvered the blade up the side of Sherlock’s throat. John did so with great care, tongue caught between his teeth, scared of slipping. All the while, he could feel Sherlock’s gaze on him, a burning point of scrutiny that John struggled not to squirm beneath. Instead, he wiped the blade and tilted Sherlock’s head again, repeating the movement.

Sherlock was silent as the grave throughout. The only sounds in the kitchen were his loud breathing and the slick, rasping scrape of the blade as it scored stubble from skin. The moment held a strange intimacy, like the two of them existed in a bubble, removed from the world with only each other for contact.

John was starting to think he might be going mad before he slid his hand to the nape of Sherlock’s neck and cupped the base of his skull to tilt his head back. As he did so, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his throat jumped with an audible swallow. Startled, John’s grip tightened momentarily in the damp curls caught beneath his fingers, and Sherlock jolted with a quiet groan. The reaction was so visceral that John froze, staring down at Sherlock’s upturned face. His eyes were tightly shut, face screwed up in a grimace that looked strangely close to horrified.

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly, confused. Sherlock didn’t answer, just remained stiff and still. Under his hand, John thought he could feel a slight, constant tremour rippling through Sherlock. Brow furrowed, he studied Sherlock’s tightly wound body, gaze pausing on Sherlock’s legs, crossed together in a vice grip at the thigh. Was Sherlock…? No, that couldn’t be it. Surely John was misreading the situation. “Are you alright?” he prompted, and Sherlock sucked in a loud, shaky breath.

“I’m excellent, John,” he said in a strained voice, still with his eyes closed. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Just about,” John replied, trying and failing to shake off his growing suspicion. Clearly, Sherlock didn’t want to draw attention to whatever was happening to him. John could respect that. He’d had massages before. Some touches felt unexpectedly nice, and things happened with one’s body that one couldn’t always control. It was perfectly natural — though John had never thought of Sherlock as someone who felt ‘natural’ urges.

“Relax,” he said, waiting for Sherlock to stop clenching his jaw and facial muscles. It took a moment before everything slowly eased. However, Sherlock’s lower body remained steel-tense, and John could still feel those minute tremours beneath his hand. But Sherlock didn’t speak, keeping his eyes shut, so John didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he returned to the task at hand. Gently tugging at Sherlock’s curls to tilt his head back, John exposed the underside of Sherlock’s throat and jaw as he angled the blade at the edge of the lather. With the heel of his hand pressed against Sherlock’s skin to steady his grip, John felt the subtle twitch of muscle underneath as Sherlock swallowed again, his breath catching. Rather than let that strange, slight stutter catch him off guard again, John swiped the blade up, taking the last of the lather with it in one smooth, rasping stroke.

Then, following some instinct John couldn’t name, he set aside the blade and laid his hand over the freshly-shaved skin. Sherlock gasped at the contact, blood rushing into his face and darkening his pale cheeks. The touch was light, John’s fingers barely brushing the blade-reddened skin, but Sherlock’s response was like a man run through with an electric current, his body jolting from head to toe.

John held perfectly still, waiting to see what Sherlock might do, expecting him to pull away and rush off back to his experiment. But he did neither, sitting perfectly still — save for the tiny shivers twitching through his body — under John’s touch.

Emboldened by that silent faith, John swept his fingertips down the strip of skin he’d just shaved, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of his caress. Sherlock’s shiver increased, the colour infusing his face darkening to a deeper, tantalizing flush. John watched, enchanted, as Sherlock’s eyebrows drew together, then upward and back down as a myriad of complex expressions flitted across his face. He turned his hand, cupping the side of Sherlock’s neck, tracing the rough line of Sherlock’s bobbing throat with the pad of his thumb, just to see what would happen.

Sherlock’s lips parted around a sigh that sounded both startled and strained, the tension in his face first intensifying, then easing slowly, as John repeated the motion. He stroked Sherlock’s throat in slow, smooth passes, his work-roughened skin catching briefly on the damp terrain. Under his fingertips, pressed below Sherlock’s jaw, John felt the soft vibration of Sherlock’s whimper, voiced from deep within his throat.

“Never realized you were so sensitive,” John murmured, awed and hardly noticing the blurred lines of their friendship passing them both by. Sherlock seemed even less cognizant of the change, head tilted back as he pressed into John’s touch, offering and baring his throat in a shocking display of trust.

It was that which nearly undid John entirely. But what erased the last of his hesitation was Sherlock’s eyelids fluttering open to reveal his darkened gaze. His pupils were blown wide, almost erasing the silvery shade of his irises.

“John,” he croaked in a voice as jagged as broken glass. His head was tilted back far enough that it nearly rested on the table behind him, the science equipment scattered over the surface seemingly forgotten for the moment.

The sound of his name, spoken with such desperation, cleared the last of John’s confusion. He let go of the last remnants of his denial, of his enforced blindness of how Sherlock was reacting to him. Because he was reacting to John, that much was clear, and there was no mistaking the meaning of that reaction.

Without speaking or wasting time on words, John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands and bent down to brush their lips together. It was a bare ghost of contact, a tentative drifting of mouths, but Sherlock’s response was definite. He groaned and surged upward, his uninjured hand tangling in John’s hair and pulling him closer. Their noses bumped clumsily, Sherlock’s teeth scraping John’s bottom lip before their mouths slotted together in a fierce kiss. It was sloppy, turning even more so when Sherlock’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out.

John responded in kind, tasting Sherlock’s eager gasp as their tongues met. Sherlock panted against his mouth, the sound desperate and rushing in John’s ears. They kissed until their need for air grew too great, some uncounted seconds that broke as John turned his face to suck in a loud inhale, his lungs burning. Sherlock gasped in sympathy against his cheek before turning John’s face back to his to reclaim his mouth in another kiss. There was the sharp drag of teeth again, the sleek, hot press of tongue and lips, and Sherlock’s hand sliding out of John’s hair, down his nape to his broad shoulders. His splinted hand hovered, ineffective, just in front of John’s chest.

“Sherlock,” John murmured, forcing himself to think through the fog of arousal quickly obscuring his thoughts. “Sherlock, wait.”

They broke apart at once, Sherlock jerking his head back. His eyes were wide, pupils huge, his face twisting into an expression of watchful uncertainty. John — who realized he had, at some point, settled onto Sherlock’s spread thighs — blinked at that expression. Something very close to fear flickered in Sherlock’s blackened gaze, prompting a soft tsk from John.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, reaching out to smooth a tangled curl back from Sherlock’s forehead. “Everything is fine.”

Some of the tension in Sherlock’s rigid body — though not all — eased. “Is it?” he asked, his typically cultured voice turned rough. Less smooth velvet, more gravel. John thought he could get used to that change.

“Absolutely,” John murmured, offering a crooked smile. “Absolutely fine. But maybe we should, ah, slow down?”

Sherlock blinked up at him, hands settled on John’s waist, his forehead creased with a puzzled frown. “Why?”

John tilted his head and chuckled. “Well… I mean, we’ve only just had our first kiss. Are you sure you want to rush into things?”

A quiet scoff escaped Sherlock’s full lips. “We’ve lived together for several years, John. You’ve seen me naked a multitude of times—”

“Helping you shower and go to the loo when you’re injured isn’t really the same as an intimate relationship,” John interrupted, amused.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics. Unimportant.” He sobered, his eyes darkening as his pupils widened again. “The facts are simple: I’ve wanted you for a very long time, John Watson. Now that you’ve realized it, I see no need to place restrictions on our feelings.” His eyes narrowed, eyebrows dropping into another frown. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

“Not what I said,” John said with an indulgent smile. Trust Sherlock to approach something like feelings with utter rationality, even as the apparent sign of his arousal pressed against the backs of John’s thighs. “I just never knew until now that you felt this way. It’s… well, it’s a bit of a surprise.”

Another scoff from Sherlock. “It’s not my fault that you’re a rather oblivious person, John. Now,” he said, voice clipped and to the point, “are you going to kiss me again? Or must we continue to talk all this out when I’d much rather show you how I feel?”

John stared at him, taken aback by the bluntness, before he tilted his head back and let out a loud, shocked laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

A gleam entered Sherlock’s pale eyes, lighting his face with mischievous promise. “I most certainly do plan for there to be handfuls of something, John. Rest assured.” He squeezed John’s backside with his un-splinted hand in a demonstration, prompting a startled but pleased wiggle from John.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” John said with a grin, then bent his head to meet Sherlock’s upturned mouth.

#sherlock #prompt #prompt fill #johnlock #first kiss #shaving #kind of adult rating for erections #simplyclockwork

[twistedmusings]

A Midnight Prank

[Set during Chapter 5] 

Ace figured that if you were sleeping so peacefully in your bed while he had to spend a good portion of the night on the floor, why shouldn’t he try to get his revenge? A small midnight prank would be a good way to teach you about leaving him laying on the floor like that~ 

Warnings: Lime. Very mild somnopholia and food play with Ace slowly starting to realize that he might have taken a prank a bit too far. 

A/N: What better way to start this writing blog than to reveal myself as an Ace stan. I barely blinked when I first started with this game but the moment he popped up in Ghost Marriage I guess my eyes just suddenly saw the light because this boy has such yan possibilities as well as being a tease about everything. So enjoy this self indulgent drabble, I’ll see if I write more like these ò uó. 

“Oh Great Sevens…my back.”

Ace stands up and stretches, looking down at his best friend’s and Grim’s position on the floor. Of all the things Vil could do, poisoning the food? 

Well not really poisoning but cursing the food? Who the hell cursed food? Especially Trey’s baked goods?! It was a late-night snack, a team bonding exercise! To him, Ramshackle was the place he could get away with being himself without having to follow Riddle’s sometimes ridiculous rules! Yet he had just spent the good half of the night laying on the cold, hardwood floor with Deuce and Grim like some punished first year despite the fact that he was best friends with the prefect of this dorm! 

And speaking of you. 

He glares at the stairs, remembering the helpless look you had sent him as you went upstairs with Vil following short after. You, better than anybody, knew how the floors of Ramshackle were! If you had been laying on the floor paralyzed, Ace would have brought you at least a pillow!

 Maybe!

A grin spreads on his face as his brain plans out a pretty simple prank. He goes over to the chocolate cake he had taken a bite out of and scoops up some of the whipped cream frosting the cake was lavishly decorated with , grinning as he grabs  a napkin and makes his way upstairs.

“This is for betraying the First Year Loyalty Pact, [Y/N]. Get ready to get yelled at, dear manager~”

His steps are quiet on the stairs, knowing where each and every creak would be in the old, wooden stairs. It had been a while since he had pulled a prank on you, the both of you teaming up to pull pranks on others and quickly running away as soon as the plan was executed. A part of him always thought that you, the favourite of Riddle whenever you came over to Heartslabyul, would not be as on board with his pranks but seeing you come up with your own little plans as both of you hid away from your rose garden duties was unexpected and highly welcomed.

Your excited tone, the way you moved your hands. It would get Ace riled up and ready to execute absolutely anything under your orders. 

Cater had described him as being 'whipped' but Ace didn't even know what that meant so jokes on the upperclassmen, he supposed. 

He snickers as he gets to your door, praising the Queen of Hearts that it was only ajar instead of fully closed. Ace had gone over a few scenarios in his head, maybe covering your entire face with the frosting or putting the frosting on your hand while tickling your nose so that you would slap yourself. Nothing too big since he still wanted to keep his friend status with you. 

Yet his best idea had popped up once he reached the side of your bed, looking down at you sleeping so peacefully. 

"Not for long~" 

If he took a peek at the clock he could see that it was three in the morning. He guessed that Vil's curse lasted around four hours. Practice started at eight so they would usually be awake around six thirty to eat a meager breakfast and start walking to Pomefiore-- 

Which meant that if you happened to take a bite out of this delicious frosting that he held in his finger, you would wake up unable to move and miss the entirety of breakfast altogether. He would also add the extra bonus of closing your door so you would have to scream for someone to come get you. 

"Essentially two birds with one stone, right [Y/N]?" he sits down at the edge and leans over you, "Your screaming will piss Vil off so much, probably throw him off his whole morning routine. Heh, even in this scenario you are my partner in crime…" 

Ace moves to trace the chocolate on your lips, a smile on his face as he wonders just what words you would be yelling out first thing in the morning. After this maybe he should go set up his camera to record Vil lecturing you while you were stuck in your bed. 

Ah. 

His fingers weren't moving. Why weren't his fingers moving? 

"Haha...ha. O-Okay, I got this. [Y/N] say 'ahh'." 

A warm hand cupped your face as he used the one not holding the sweet confectionary, pressing his thumb against your lips and swallowing down the rather huge lump in his throat as it slowly made its way past them. Ace pressed down lightly, your mouth parting slowly as his nail scraped against the top of your teeth which allowed him to press down and watch as your mouth parted open for him. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He was sweating, why was he sweating? A normal prank would have him smiling as adrenaline rushed through his body but this wasn't the kind of rush he was expecting. 

Ace was nervous. 

Thumb pressing against your tongue, he stopped his exploring there and not daring to go another step. He remembers back in his dating days during middle school, his girlfriend always insisted on doing the 'cutesy' thing and feeding each other. Strawberries, cotton candy, anything that was just cheesy and picture perfect enough to make him sigh in annoyance. Back then it had all just been a bother. 

But with you, why was it making him feel so--

"Augh!" 

Ace pulls his finger away, your lips still parted slightly as he grabbed his hand as if it was burned. 

Come on Trappola! What the hell is wrong with you!

You! You with your soft lips, warm tongue and inviting face that looked so so peaceful while sleeping. As if nothing would wake you! Just leaving the door open so anyone would come in and take advantage of the opportunity right before them. 

The infamous prefect of Ramshackle...looking so defenseless. 

"[Y/N]." 

Ace leans over you once again, the finger covered in chocolate this time making its way past your lips with no shame as his eyes seem to glaze over with unprecedented confidence. This was all for the sake of a good prank. Hell, he should one up it and sleep next to you tonight. You would wake up to Ace looking over you, unable to move as he teases you for not noticing his presence sooner. 

"You should really lock your door at night." he shivers when he feels your tongue lapping at his finger, "Otherwise next time I'll have to pull an even naughtier prank." 

He presses down on the slimy muscle, eyes widening when he starts getting a reaction. His finger moves up and down, tracing your tongue as your body starts to slowly respond to the attention of something sweet teasing your tastebuds. 

"Mmnnn." 

The chocolate was all gone when Ace pulled his finger back, licking his lips as he saw a faint trail of drool connecting his finger to your lips. You should have the taste floating in your mouth as your body slowly took in the curse. 

Ace barely notices himself panting until he takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the sheets covering your body as he leaned in ever closer. Maybe he should check? After all he wanted to prank you so good that you wouldn't forget about it. The thought making you squirm and open your mouth, begging him to put something inside-- 

"Ace?" 

Blood nearly rushes all the way back up to Ace's head as he hears Grimm's voice, the little creature looking at him tiredly as it floated towards him. 

"G--Grimm?! What--!" 

"My tail and ears hurt! I can't believe [Y/N] just left us there. When they wake up I'm going to--" 

Grimm yawns as he makes his way over to you, gently laying on your chest as the Heartslabyul student quickly stands up and makes his way through the door. He doesn't waste any words on saying good night as he steps out into the hall, gently shutting the door behind him and sliding down to the floor. 

What the hell did I just do? 

He looks at the finger that had done the act, staring at it as if it had a mind of its own. Your mouth had been so warm and now his entire body felt cold. Anf you weren't even aware that you had just left him feeling like this! 

Ace sighs as he runs a finger through his hair, standing up and making his way downstairs to check if Deuce has woken up. 

Not necessarily noticing how he bit at the top of the finger that had become so intimate with you. 

                                                        ~~~~~

Omake 

"Kalim? It's four in the morning why the hell are you awake?" 

Ace blinks as he supports a sleeping Deuce, the other still snoring away as Kalim smiles and places a finger to his lips. 

"I'm going to see if I can sneak in a cuddle with [Y/N]. Grimm mentioned how warm they were yesterday and I've been curious ever since!"  

"Oh, cool. Have fun then." 

The Heartslabyul student keeps walking as the Scarabia dorm leader opens the door to your room, whispering a goodnight. It was only when he heard the click of your door did he nearly drop his fellow student. 

"WAIT WHAT?" 

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twst #writings #can I label this as pre-yan? #cause I could see him slowly decendencing down the yan pathway in this one #available books

[tarantula-teeth]

“Rhonda Hurley was the coolest, smartest and funniest person I had ever met. She was tough —tougher than Dean, tougher than Dad—and she made the best grilled ham sandwiches in the world,” Sam says, smiling down at his hands. He’s holding a blue scarf, a filmy silk scrap of fabric. The box he pulled it from, the one stashed under Dean’s bed, sits emptied on the war table between him and Garth. “She had moles under her eyes and down her neck and never wore shoes and she called me ‘Bruiser’ when she helped me with my homework.”

“She sounds like...like she was important,” Garth offers. He runs his fingers over the pile of Dean’s silver and tin rings they’d found in the bottom of the box.

“She was...she was family. Maybe the first person me and Dean ever knew and loved outside of Dad.”

***

He’s 13 and Dean’s working at the garage under the table because he doesn’t have a work permit or degree. Rhonda always helps Sam with his homework while they wait for him to come home, leaning over his Algebra worksheet with her long blonde hair in a peppy ponytail on the top of her head and her yellow waitress uniform on. She works the graveyard at the all-night diner in town.

That’s how Sam and Dean met Rhonda. Well, Sam met her first. He’d been camped out in a corner booth at five in the morning, three weeks out from when they’d last seen Dad. He and Dean were crashing in the car, too broke to keep up the hotel room. Sam was eating a bowl of oatmeal, no fruit or sides but lots of sugar packets, and a glass of orange juice while he went over his math homework. Dean hadn’t ordered anything before he went to work.

“Check that one again, bruiser,” the beautiful waitress who smelled like vanilla had said. She tapped her sparkly blue fingernails over problem six before collecting Sam’s empty bowl. “Don’t forget about PEMDAS.”

“Thanks,” Sam said to the table. A darted glance revealed that the waitresses’ name tag had ‘Rhonda’ written on it in little yellow stick on letters. “Do I need to order something else to stay?”

“Nope,” Rhonda replied, popping her gum. “You’re just fine, sugar.”

“Sorry I don’t tip more.”

“I’m sorry you have to listen to old Fred holler at the golfing channel,” she’d replied and they’d both looked over at the gentleman waving a cane towards the ceiling mounted television.

Sam broke first, breaking into giggles. Rhonda had smiled back with big, bright teeth as white and pretty as hominy. She’d come back twenty minutes later with an obscene stack of pancakes in one hand and a monkey dish of chocolate chips in the other. The whipped cream can was in her apron pocket. She’d told him she was going to split the pancakes with him and then watched happily as he scarfed them all down. Then, she’d helped him with his homework.

It didn’t take long for Rhonda to meet Dean. She kept Sam company most mornings and nights in between waiting tables. Sam knew Dean really liked Rhonda because his whole neck turned red whenever she laughed at his jokes. One thing led to another, and then Sam was waking up on Rhonda’s overstuffed grandma couch every morning and Dean was making scrambled eggs for her to eat when she got off her overnight shift.

***

They’re fishing for dinner while Dean’s at work, sweaty and lazy in the Oklahoma heat, and the fish aren’t real interested in biting. Rhonda’s wearing a gold bikini top and Wrangler cut offs and her blonde hair is pinned up in a blue silk scarf. Sam has never seen a more beautiful person.

He tells her as much.

“You Winchester boys,” Rhonda said through a smile. A cigarette dangled in the corner of her mouth. “You’ll ruin me for the rest of the male population.”

“You don’t need to worry about them,” Sam said, casting his line out again. He’s stopped wearing his shoes to match Rhonda and he sticks his foot into the river while he reels. “You got Dean. And I’ll be your brother-in-law eventually. You’ll have Dad, too. Once he’s back.”

Rhonda, pink across her nose in a way that certainly isn’t a sunburn, stared at him from her side of the canoe. Her eyes are brown like chocolate. She recovered quickly enough, her mouth curving into a little smile.

“Me and Dean are married in this scenario?”

“Yep. And I’m his best man.”

“What if I want you to be my best man?”

“I guess I could do that too. But not a flower girl.”

“No, I suppose we’d have to let old Fred handle that.”

***

Dean really loves Rhonda. He almost tells her about the truth when they leave, about the supernatural. But he stops. And his eyes are sparkly with tears when he looks away. Sam thinks he should.

He tells him as much. They’re about to leave Rhonda’s trailer park, drive back to the hotel dad left them at. Sam’s still crying a little, quiet and painful because he’s trying to stop. He’s got his Algebra book in his lap, close to his chest. They won’t have time to return it to the school, Dad was only a half hour out when he got ahold of Dean. It smells like vanilla.

“I can’t, Sammy,” Dean says. He smudges his fingers, black with car grease, under his eyes. He sniffs. “Dad won’t like Rhonda. Once we see him? We can’t talk about her again. We gotta move on from Rhonnie. For good.”

“That’s stupid, Dean,” Sam says. He’s mad now and it makes it worse that Rhonda’s still sitting on her trailer steps with mascara dripping down her chin and her yellow waitress uniform on. “He’s stupid.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, aiming for firm and landing on heart broken.

Sam gets out of the car. Dean doesn’t stop him. He walks up to Rhonda and sets his cheek on her bony shoulder, wraps his arms as tight around her as he can. She squeezes him back, just as tight.

“I love you, Rhonda,” Sam whispers, tears burning hie eyes. “I was so happy to know you.”

“Oh,” Rhonda says, sniffling. “I love you too, bruiser. You be good. Be safe. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

And she’d pulled the scarf from her hair, letting it down in a blonde cloud smelling of Suave Sun Ripened Strawberry shampoo. And she’d pressed the scratchy blue scarf into his hands. And kissed his forehead.

And put her hands on his shoulders. And breathed in deep. Then out. Then she’d turned him around to face the Impala and given him the gentlest push.

And he’d started walking. And Dean started driving. And Sam watched Rhonda Hurley and her trailer park shrink in his side mirror.

***

“I must have left the scarf when I went to college,” Sam says. He’s a little teary. Garth is flat out crying, hand over his own mouth. “Rhonda Hurley. What a woman.”

“To Rhonda,” Garth says, lifting his wine cooler.

“To Rhonda,” Sam echoes. He takes a long drink from his coffee cup.

Inspired by @skepticalfrog’s Rhonda art pieces.

To Rhonda Hurley.

#Rhonda Hurley #I have a lot of emotions about her #especially when she’s not cis #anywho #Rhonda affectionate #tw dean is dead #sammy centric #tw vague transphobia #my writing

[joheun-saram]

Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader 

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass​ for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift. 

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

-----------

For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

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

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife  rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #jhope angst #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #jhope fluff #jhope imagines #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts fic #bts fanfiction #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #hoseok x reader

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

#fic: dear... whoever #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #my writing #25 things challenge

[bbugyu]

finding something to do + kim mingyu

you had spent your better years bored with mingyu, and he thought holding your hand felt like holding his fleeting youth.

wc.4088 | almost smut, mostly fluff, friends to lovers/uni au, fem reader, that one trope where there is mutual pining but both of them think the other is gay, maybe like half an ounce of angst if you squint Really Hard, lots o swears

i usually make my fics hella neutral as far as gender and size and orientation goes but hahahaha this ones for the average sized bi girls! also just realized that i stopped using capitalization in my fics and yk what? im fine with it. this fic is based off of the song of the same name by hellogoodbye.

*

“stop honking, other people live here.”

mingyu grinned at you through the half-open passenger window, leaning over to pop open the door. the handle had never recovered from a giant cup of soda crashing into the side of his ride in the middle of a particularly rowdy summer shenanigan, the sticky substance soaking into the mechanics before he had gotten the chance to hose it down in a friend's driveway at 2am. now, you had to wait for him to open it from the inside on all future shenanigans, and you could only roll the window down half way, lest you have to laugh at mingyu aggressively pulling on the window between his palms as you pulled on the motorized switch to coerce it back into the closed position. you slid into the co-pilot seat and looked over to your best friend.

"if you answered your texts i wouldn't have to honk."

you rolled your eyes, tugging on the seatbelt. "go, gyu."

he laughed and shifted into drive, turning up his stereo as he pulled away from your apartment building, hand returning to the stick to shift up a gear. "thanks for coming."

"what else was i gonna do?" you slipped the slides off your socked feet and pulled your legs to sit cross-legged. "i finished rewatching avatar."

"study, maybe?"

you looked at him. he was right, finals were right around the corner, but you had an uncharacteristically light load this quarter (due to you not realizing you needed approval for one course before registration and it filling before you could sign up) and you weren't too worried about the three tests you would have to take in a couple weeks. "could say the same to you."

mingyu let out another laugh, suddenly singing along to the song as he ran a hand through his hair. you smiled at his profile, then pulled out your phone to update your instagram story. as you moved the camera over to mingyu from the streetlight-lit road ahead of you, he laughed midway through a lyric and practically yelled "mwoya" at you, gripping the wheel with both hands and jumping in his seat. 

you laughed hysterically, frantically saving the video before pointing the screen at him. he turned down the music to watch it, eyes flickering between your phone and the road. he laughed at the way it cut off on both of you screaming. "what was that?"

you giggled, swiping through filters. "you being dumb."

"you love me."

"you're right."

mingyu smiled at that, adjusting the stereo volume again, bobbing his head to the rhythm as he drove to the one convenience store in your town that sold his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream, a mission he had called upon you for at 11:30pm. when it switched over to a song you knew, mingyu noticed your subconscious humming to the tune and a few lyrics falling out of your lips, the wind from the open window whipping through your hair.

by the time you reached a small parking lot across town, you had yawned probably half a dozen times.

"tired?" mingyu pouted as he rolled up the windows and unbuckled his seatbelt. "sorry for dragging you out."

you shook your head, following suit and pulling yourself out of the car. "i slept too late, i think. i'll be fine."

you followed mingyu across the quiet street to the convenience store the two of you frequented perhaps too often, finding yourself there after late night study sessions or mid-barhop for ramen, snacks, and most importantly, the mint choco ice cream bar of mingyu's affections.

after perusing the options as if you hadn't been there earlier in the week, you picked out an ice cream bar as well as a couple bags of chips. you walked up behind mingyu at the register as he was pulling out his wallet.

"i'll pay if you come over and play smash," he said, nodding at your hands full of snacks.

you eyed him. "what's the catch?"

"you can't be mad when i play meta knight."

you groaned, but put your things on the counter for the cashier that was likely the same age as you both to scan. "fine. i'll still beat you."

mingyu grinned at you, and you snagged your ice cream bar off the counter as he paid, the other snacks getting put in a plastic bag. you grabbed the bag and held it open as mingyu retrieved his own ice cream, both of you peeling them open as you exited the convenience store.

"mm," you let out, mouth full of ice cream as you leaned against the metal bar meant to lock up bikes on the sidewalk. "it's nice out tonight."

mingyu agreed, biting into his treat. "it's refreshing but not too cold."

you nodded, watching cars pass on the street. "i can't believe it's almost summer already."

"me neither," he said, squatting in front of you as he ate. "we're gonna be seniors next year."

you groaned. "have you decided if you're doing summer quarter?"

he shook his head. "i decided against it. i only really have to take one extra course next year so it didn't feel worth it."

you nodded, looking down at him. he was looking to his left, absentmindedly watching someone walk their dog across the street.

after the ice cream was finished and you threw away your wrappers, mingyu cursed slightly at the fact that he still managed to get his finger sticky despite doing his best to avoid meltage. after he popped open your door, he dug in the glovebox for some wet naps, playfully knocking your knees aside as you tried to sit. you laughed, waiting for him to be done so you could put the bag of snacks on the floor in front of you.

when you met mingyu sophomore year, your hair was shorter and he was blonde. he had sat next to you in your shared ecology lab and promptly fell asleep before the class had even started, and you had to nudge him awake when the professor was handing out the syllabus. 

"gah, fuck, i'm up," he waved a massive hand in your face, blinking away his sleep before focusing on you with furrowed brows. "you're not seokmin."

seokmin was his roommate, you learned, and also met a few weeks later when you went over to their dorm to work on assignments together. they've since upgraded to a compact but efficient three bedroom apartment and acquired another roommate. you stared out the window into the night sky as mingyu drove to said apartment, blinking heavily at the lure of a nap. you pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to listen to the song playing from the stereo.

only moments later, mingyu glanced over and noticed that your eyes had fluttered shut, your head lolling against the window. he wondered, staring at you in awe, how much longer he could pretend he wasn't in love with you.

when you and mingyu had first gotten to know each other, you admittedly had a bit of a crush on him, until you found out he had a boyfriend. even after they split almost four months later, and you had been there to bring him chicken and beer while he fumbled with the drawstrings of his sweatpants and rubbed his swollen eyes with the back of his hand, you decidedly resigned any feelings for him, knowing it was a lost cause for you to pine after a guy that didn't even like girls. hell, you barely even liked boys - you had gone on dates with six different girls, yet not a single guy since you came to university, and mingyu had sat on your bed while you tried to get ready, giving a concise "try again" when you showed him an oversized sweatshirt.

"why not this?" you asked, groaning.

"you have good proportions, bitch. show 'em off."

rolling your eyes, you rooted around in your closet for something less shapeless. your style had always skewed a little athletic, a little hip-hop. you bought mostly mens fit shirts, making the task slightly more difficult. you found a nice pair of high waisted jeans you hadn't worn in a while and paired it with a drop shoulder tee and a turtleneck, finally getting the approval of your best friend.

all of the facts laid in front of him led mingyu to believe you were completely and utterly gay, and even if you weren't, your taste in women suggested he was the exact opposite of your type. you liked petite girls. girls with long hair and that wore skirts and lots of rings. the kind of girls that you had to lean down to kiss. 

so he continued to try out the pool of eligible bachelors in your area that were within a respectable age range. he had even tried to date some girls, but every time they tried to suggest the dates go further, he would think of the way his best friend's fingers had sent electricity through his entire body just by brushing an eyelash off his lip, or how you would trace the veins that ran through his wrist as you watched a movie together on your couch. the way your touch set his skin on fire. the way he wished he could just admit the way he felt about you. 

he always smiled and said he'd call them sometime. he never did. it wasn't fair to them, but neither was him only ever asking them out because they reminded him of you somehow.

guys were easier, he thought. they didn't remind him of you.

mingyu was so caught up in the sight of you sleeping that he absolutely ran a red. he cursed under his breath when he realized the light he was passing under had been yellow for longer than he had thought, thinking how lucky he was that the cross street was empty. good thing he was almost home.

"hey, sleepyhead," he said when you stretched suddenly as he pulled into his parking spot. "do you wanna go home?"

you shook your head, yawning. "no, i need to eat chips."

he laughed and killed the engine. "you left a pair of house shorts here and you can borrow a shirt," he said, suggesting you crash in his bed when you got too tired for smash.

"what, you don't wanna carry me home?"

mingyu slammed the car door shut and shoved his hand in his pocket. "i'd rather not, no."

you stretched again, a hand reaching out to ruffle his dark hair as he tried to punch in the door code for you to enter his building. "mean."

he laughed at you again, leading you up the three flights of stairs to his apartment.

"hey, minghao," you said, waving at the shadowy figure that was seemingly melting into the couch, illuminated by the tv.

he raised a hand in acknowledgment, sitting with his neck at a 90 degree angle, a movie with subtitles on, and his phone face down on his chest. "yo."

"wanna play smash?" mingyu asked.

"no thanks."

mingyu dropped his keys on the kitchen counter. "we're playing smash."

"you're funny."

you laughed, and mingyu pouted. "please, myungho?"

minghao finally looked at his roommate. "i'm watching annihilation. the switch is handheld for a reason."

you watched mingyu roll his eyes with a smirk on your lips. he went over to the switch dock by the tv and grabbed the console, sticking his tongue out at hao. you giggled, following mingyu down the short hall to his room as minghao waved you both off.

"have i said that i like hao a lot?"

"yes," mingyu said. "like, every time you come over."

you smiled, throwing open his dresser and carding through the shirts that would surely be massive on you. "well i do."

the switch got tossed onto his bed and he sneaked around you to grab a pair of sweatpants from the drawer above the one you were looking in. he also pulled out the pair of shorts you had left, putting them on top of the dresser. "i'm getting naked now."

you shook your head lightly, knowing he was only changing his pants, but kept your back to him out of respect anyways. you picked up the shorts. "did you wash these?"

"yeah, i threw 'em in with my laundry last week."

you nodded, spotting the color you had been looking for. "aha!" you pulled on the ashy gray shirt, revealing one of your favorite things you had ever convinced mingyu to buy. an extremely soft, lightly distressed shirt with a tasteful rip along the neckline. "i'm getting naked now."

"clear," mingyu said, letting you know he wasn't looking as he flopped onto his bed, propping up the switch on his bedside table and setting up the controllers.

you pulled off your loose sweatshirt and swapped it for the borrowed shirt, then shoved the denim shorts down your legs, laughing lightly at how your sleep shorts completely disappeared under the shirt. you turned around, stretching out your arms to show how large the shirt was on you. "look."

mingyu rolled onto his back and propped himself on an elbow to look at you, giggling as you swam in his shirt. outwardly, he smiled, but internally, he thought this was simultaneously the worst and best idea he had ever had.

you looked absolutely stunning in his clothes, he thought, but only said that you were cute. he ignored the familiar feeling in his stomach and handed you a controller as you crawled onto his bed, settling on your stomach next to him.

he had to stop putting himself in this position. you were far too pretty for him to forget his feelings towards you.

but maybe that's what he wanted. maybe he didn't want to forget his feelings. maybe the few times you had told him his dates were attractive weren't just objective reassurances. maybe he held onto the sliver of hope that you could possibly be attracted to him, too.

you slammed your face into the bed as the game loaded. "why are all switch load times utter ass?"

mingyu adjusted so that he was laying on his side with an arm propping him up and flicked the back of your head. "because the console can fit in my palm."

your hand went up to swat at the culprit of the flick, and you pouted as you lifted your head to look at him. "that's not fair, your hands are huge." you wiggled onto your elbows to grab his wrist, pressing your palms together. "see?"

mingyu laughed, feeling his cheeks heat up. "well, you have baby hands, so." he punctuated his point by curling his finger over yours. you pouted again, then slipped your fingers between his, thinking about how nice his warm hand felt over yours.

you blinked, then pulled your hand away and grabbed the joycon as the game finally loaded the skippable intro, hoping you weren't blushing too much as you cleared your throat. mingyu stared at your pink cheeks for a moment, his mind reeling. was he seeing something that wasn't there? or was his hope in you validated?

you were clicking through the menu and felt his eyes on you, and all you wanted to do was hide behind your hair and avoid eye contact. you nearly jumped when mingyu cleared his throat.

"hey, i have something i've been meaning to ask you."

your eyes met his briefly. "shoot."

"do you…" mingyu paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase his question. "i know you have exes that are guys, but is that something you're, like… still into?"

your ears burned and you wiggled until you could sit back on your own legs, fiddling with the hem of the shirt you stole and hesitating to make eye contact. "you mean, being with guys?"

"yeah," he said, watching you intently with his brows furrowed.

"yeah, i mean, i guess?" you shrugged. "i like both."

mingyu nodded slowly, watching your eyes as they stared at the wall across his small room. your cheeks were a rosy pink, and you were chewing on your lip. "me too."

you looked at him finally, your eyes wide. "what?"

he gave you a crooked smile. "i like guys and girls, too."

if you were blushing before, now you were blazing. "oh, my god, i'm an idiot."

he laughed. "what, did you think i was, like, totally gay?"

"shut up," you threw yourself down onto his bed, hiding your face in the blanket. in your defense, he had definitely called himself gay before, but you definitely called yourself gay constantly, so maybe you shouldn't put so much weight in those words. "shut up, i'm embarrassed. i don't want to talk about it."

hearing mingyu laugh next to you made you feel like you were on fire, then you felt the ghosting of fingers on your arm. you froze. mingyu's voice was soft when he spoke again. "do you wanna talk about how i have a massive crush on you?"

you slowly raised your head to look at him, cheeks burning red. he gave you a small smile before you choked out a "huh?"

"i ran a red earlier," he said suddenly, his fingers moving from your arm to absentmindedly brush your hair out of your face, then to your shoulder, then back. it was a reassuring touch, one you had felt from him before, but you still were caught off guard by his sudden succession of confessions. "you were sleeping and i couldn't stop looking at you. i totally could have crashed the car."

"dude, what the fuck." you stared at him, then lowered your voice to imitate him. "'hey i have a crush on you and i almost killed us both because of it.' that's you, that's what you sound like right now."

mingyu laughed in your face and you couldn't help the chuckle that fell out of your mouth. "sorry i almost killed us."

"i guess i can forgive you," you said, picking at your nails suddenly despite them being clean. "especially because i might have a crush on you, too."

mingyu kept staring at you with a fond smile, and you wondered if he could also hear how hard your heart was beating. "can i kiss you?"

you looked at him, trying not to stare at his lips. you nodded, almost hurriedly. his hand pulled against your back as you rolled your body to face him, and your hand reached out for his jaw as he pulled you into him. and when his lips crashed into yours, you yelped slightly, melting into him almost immediately. they were plush against yours, and he was gentle as he pushed your back onto the mattress, adjusting to hover over you slightly. when you let your head fall back onto the bed, he grinned at your blown out pupils and swollen lips, buzzing at the way your hands curled around around his neck, fingers digging into the hair at his nape. he adjusted again, a hand finding your waist as he pulled back to let you swing your leg across his lap. you pulled him back over you, enjoying the way his hips hit the back of your thighs as he caged you in with an elbow by your shoulder. you stared up at him, heart racing, eyes flicking down to his lips too many times for him to not take the hint.

mingyu had always enjoyed pleasing you. this definitely felt like the next natural progression.

he dove into you, and your arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. mingyu was a hugger, and he also liked wearing very little clothing when he worked out, so you knew what he looked like under the plain white tee. knew what he felt like. but suddenly - with his hands slipping under what was technically his shirt to properly feel your waist, with how his tongue fought with yours - you really felt him for the first time. the way his shoulder muscles rippled just beneath the skin as he adjusted, clearly trying to not make his growing bulge so obvious. you considered the fact that you might get to see how much leg day really benefited, considering how much he posted about it with sweaty post-workout pictures on his story.

mingyu felt your thighs squeeze around his hips, pulling back slightly. "is this okay?"

"is it?" you responded, a hand pulling back to fall on his jaw. "i've wanted you for ages."

he laughed lightly. "god, we're idiots."

you had no time to respond before he was kissing you again, his hips rolling into yours, pulling a surprised moan from you. he ate it up, his fingers gripping your waist tighter at the sound. you felt his girth as it pressed against you, and you gasped. when was the last time you had been with a guy? high school?

when mingyu's teeth bit down on your lip, you were really glad he was the guy you were unconsciously waiting for.

he tugged on your hips as he rolled onto his back, pulling you to straddle his lap. you giggled slightly, settling back into the open mouthed kisses as he ran his hands from your ass up your back, slipping under the sports bra you were wearing.

then there was a knock. you yelped, burying your face in his shoulder as you heard the door swing open. "make room for king k r- oh shit!"

you laughed into mingyu's neck as he yelled for seokmin to get the hell out, his hands tugging the hem of the stolen shirt over your butt in an attempt to shield it from view. you heard him squeak out an "i'm sorry!" as the door shut again.

"i'll kill him."

you exhaled, the laughter still on your lips as you looked at his profile from where your cheek pressed against his shoulder. "bet he thinks we're secretly dating."

mingyu laughed, scratching an eyebrow before returning his palm to your ass. "not a secret now."

"oh, so we're dating now?"

mingyu craned his neck to look at you. "is that not what was going to happen?"

you giggled, sitting up and putting your hands on his chest. you adjusted your knees, fully aware of how the movement would rub you against his still hard bulge. "we have both fucked people without dating them afterwards, kim mingyu."

"ah," he said, digging his fingers into your soft ass and rutting into you gently, making you gasp. "we're gonna fuck? i thought we were just joking."

you slapped his chest, giggling still as you rolled your hips. "if you don't wanna, i could ask hao-"

"oh, shut up," he said, pulling you down to kiss him. "if you liked myungho like that you would have tried it ages ago."

you smiled, your thumb running over his adams apple as you placed gentle kisses on his jaw. "sweetie, are we jealous?"

"i don't deserve this, you know?" mingyu pulled your hips against him again, a low grunt tumbling from his beautiful mouth. "i haven't put my dick in a girl since i met you and now i'm with you and you're talking about my roommate? this seems extremely mean."

you giggled again, then placed your lips on his again. he instantly kissed you back, one hand leaving your ass to go to the back of your neck. "you're the only guy i ever think about," you whispered, getting repeatedly interrupted by mingyu's needy lips on yours.

the wolf-like grin that broke onto his face sent chills down your spine. "let's keep it that way."

*

seokmin's hand was still on the doorknob, his wide eyes blinking, when minghao paused his movie and sat up to poke his head out and look down the hall. "the hell was that?"

he puffed out his cheeks as he walked back into the living room, his palms clapping gently. "i thought you said y/n came over to play smash?"

minghao's eyebrow quirked up. "she did."

the eldest sat on the couch. "i thought mingyu was gay?"

"what?" minghao looked down the hall again. "wait, what? were they-" he stopped when he heard a muffled groan that was far too familiar.

seokmin grabbed the remote and pressed play, scratching his cheek as he turned up the volume. "what are we watching? catch me up."

#97 line is back #aka my favorite friendship dynamic i love them #honestly all the age groupings in svt are so good i love all of them a ton #honestly any grouping in svt is. one of my faves #like all of them #why are they perfect for each other this is so sickening #ok lets do real tags now #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #i love he a lot #puppy #i wrote dis

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Duplicitous

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral, cuckolding), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Loki is new to the team but receives a cool welcome from those at the Avengers compound. Assigned to complete his orientation, you try to start anew with the former villain of New York.

Note: Still working on Omerta and From Eden. Tbh, the last week has been a tough one mentally but I’m working on that. I’ve also been all over the place helping my mother get settled after moving to town. Whatever, life is life. Thanks to all your wonderful people.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was a long morning. Much of it had been spent with Tony and as any other meeting with the man, it swung between amiability and antagonism. It was easy to guess why he was agitated as he was determined to thrust the crux of his displeasure upon you. Tony was never one to just roll over and he held a grudge well, but he wasn’t heartless and Thor was one of his best. 

It was only unfortunate that the Asgardian had deemed himself a package deal. If his home was to be Earth, it wouldn’t be his brother’s too. Loki was different now, he sought redemption, to right his wrongs. It was a hard sell but the god was relentless and as usual, he prevailed.

“I want you to make this hell,” Tony’s words echoed in your head as you flipped through the workplace standards binder. “You are going to go through this with a fine tooth comb until that jackass can’t take anymore.”

These things were never easy. Going over protocol, safety regulations, workplace behaviour and etiquette. Usually you did your best to condense it all to make it more palatable; as much for you as the new hires. Now Tony wanted you to torture this man via dry ordinances as he wasn’t allowed to do so physically. The boss wouldn’t sign off until he was sure Loki suffered, though you were just as certain Tony had no plans to sign off on anything.

You checked the clock, it was almost noon already. You’d set up the conference room for your first session. The binders and files stacked neatly on one end as you sat in the middle. 

You rose and looked through the transparent wall. Pepper’s heels raced by as she hurried to Tony’s office with her phone at her ear. The usual chaos of the tower.

You stepped out into the hall and made your way to the kitchen and popped a capsule in the machine before you found a mug. You added water to the machine and listened to the whir as it spat orange pekoe from its nozzle. You hated the little pods of leaves but you didn’t have time to wait on the kettle. You added a touch of milk and checked your watch before you stole one of the scones left in the box Pepper had strolled in with that morning.

You cradled the crummy scone in a paper towel and as you neared the conference room, you found a broad pair of shoulders awaiting you. You had still not grown used to Thor’s lack of hair. Loki’s dark head appeared just on the other side of him and your dread sank into your stomach.

“Hey,” You approached. “Just in time.”

“My lady!” Thor boomed as he turned to greet you. “How are you?”

“Well, and you?” You couldn’t help but smile. “How is the city treating you so far?”

“We have seen many things,” He announced. “Many delicious foods.”

Loki was silent, his eyes dull as he resisted rolling them at his brother. 

“And are you doing more exploring today?” You wondered.

“Eh, I gotta see Tony but I figured I’d see Loki in for his first day,” He lowered his voice. “I told him to behave.”

“I can hear you,” Loki grumbled.

“Yes, well you already know I told you to behave,” Thor said. “So… behave.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki replied snidely.

Thor huffed and shook his head.

“I fear I’ve set him into a mood already,” Thor said. “I apologize.”

Loki blinked in exasperation but said nothing.

“Well, I guess we should begin and you should see Tony sooner than later,” You offered. “He called for the jet so he might not be here much longer.”

“Thank you,” Thor clapped your shoulder. “I promise, he has changed.”

You nodded and gave a weak smile. Thor left you and you turned to Loki. He stared at you a moment then his eyes drifted to the transparent door.

“Allow me,” He pushed the door inward and stepped inside to let you past. 

You looked down at your full hands and thanked him as you entered. You set your mug and scone down but didn’t touch them. You had hoped to enjoy them before his arrival but for once, Thor was timely. Or perhaps that was Loki’s doing. He seemed the more stringent of the two.

“Loki,” You waved to the chair across from you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Again,” He neared slowly and grabbed the back of the chair. “Did you forget?”

“A brief meeting, yes,” You said. “But I’ve been told you weren’t yourself.”

He sat carefully and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I remember it though,” He assured you.

“I tend to remember other events that day a little more clearly,” You countered. 

“Mmm,” His brow twitched. “Yes, you Midgardians do cling to the more extreme details of my last visit.”

You wanted to scoff. Your last meeting had very nearly killed you. As creatures flew upon strange machines outside the windows of Stark Tower and buildings were decimated, you had caught a piece of shrapnel as one of the invaders crashed through the windows. You still wore the scar across your side; still remembered the god behind Tony’s bar, lecturing you upon your inferiority.

“This is a new start,” You slid a binder over to him. “Though not an exciting one.”

His fingers tapped on the blue cover as you opened your own and took a sip of your tea. 

“What is this?” He opened his slowly.

“The rules,” You answered. “Combat regulations, mission protocol, office standards… the fun stuff.”

“And did my brother have to sit through this tripe?” He asked.

“Your brother didn’t try to invade New York,” You said sharply. “And Tony likes him.”

“Ah, Stark,” He smirked. “Of course.”

“Did you want a tea? Anything to drink?” You asked.

His eyes flicked up and he considered you. “Very kind, but I’d rather we just begin.”

“Right,” You looked down and took a breath. “Probably best.”

🐍

The clock at the end of the room read past six. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. All the little quizzes and evaluations Tony had tacked on were taking a lot longer than you expected. Loki looked just as uninterested though he read along all the same and had yet to falter. 

You sniffed and leaned back in your chair. 

“Ready to call it a day?” You asked.

“Up to you,” He said coolly. “To be honest, it has been slightly preferable to my brother’s grating presence. Slightly.”

“He’s not that bad,” You chuckled.

“He’s not your brother,” Loki countered. “Have you ever had the pleasure of eating with him? It’s disgusting.”

You held back another laugh and shook your head. Your eyes caught a figure on the other side of the clear wall. Steve squinted through and pointed at Loki with a tilt of his head. You blinked and shrugged. Loki noticed and glanced over his shoulder.

“Ah,” He slowly turned back. “The golden avenger has returned.”

“Well…” You tapped your fingers on the table. “I am, uh, late.”

“Late?” He raised his brows.

Steve went to the door and opened it carefully.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He poked his head in. But I’ve been, uh…” He looked at Loki warily. “Texting you.”

“We were just finishing up,” You assured him. 

“Hello, Captain,” Loki pivoted his chair.

“Steve,” The other man corrected. “Thanks.”

“Ah,” Loki’s mouth twitched and he looked between the two of you. He stood up and turned back to you. “I didn’t realise. I shall see myself out.”

“We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Same time,” You said. 

“I look forward to it,” He said dryly.

Loki took the black jacket he’d slung over the back of his chair halfway through your session and nodded at Steve as he slipped past him. He strode along the wall and offered a two finger wave before he disappeared. Steve watched him with hands on his hips.

“What--”

“You haven’t talked to Tony?”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Steve turned to you. “He didn’t--”

“Oh, you guys need to calm down,” You rolled your eyes. “He was perfectly… tame.”

You pulled out your phone and saw several notifications from Steve, along with a few emails. One was marked with a red exclamation which deemed it urgent and you opened it up. You glossed through it quickly.

“Steve,” You looked up. “You didn’t?--”

“It was Bucky too,” He said evasively. “We were just doing our job.”

“You collapsed a bridge,” You frowned. “Why is it always you?”

“No casualties,” He pleaded.

“Only me,” You scowled. “I’ll be buried in the paperwork.”

He lowered his chin guiltily. He neared shyly as you packed up your bag.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” He touched your arm.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you collected your mug and half-eaten scone.

“Cheesecake?” He smiled. 

“You can’t buy me with dessert,” You brushed past him and he followed you out into the hall.

“Really?” He said. “I know you like a little whip cream on top.” You entered the kitchen and rinsed out the cup and placed it in the rack. “But… we could try it on something else.”

You faced him and fought not to smirk. You shook your head.

“So the cheesecake is… foreplay?”

“Part of it,” He got closer and his hand settled on your hip. 

“Hmm,” You hummed as his lips hovered over yours. “Strawberry cheesecake?”

“My favourite,” He purred and kissed you. 

🐍

The next day, you found Loki waiting in the conference room. You had spent your morning trying to clean up after the super soldiers. You pushed through the clear door and rounded the table as you greeted Loki.

“You’re early,” You said as you took your seat. The binders were as they had been the day before.

“All the better to get this over with,” He said as you sat and rolled your chair closer to the table.

“You know, I am starting to think it would be a lot easier if you and Tony just had it out,” You opened the binder. “Well, easier for me.”

Loki snickered and flipped through his own binder.

“You and the golden boy,” He ventured as you found the right page. “Adorable.”

You glanced up at him and furrowed your brow. You cleared your throat and looked back to the pages.

“So, we were going over required training.” You said.

“Is that allowed in your little Midgardian handbook?” He prodded.

“We will cover that,” You assured him. “Not that I think you need to worry about it.”

“Hmm, no,” He mused. “I wouldn’t.”

You sat back and sighed.

“It might be easier if you at least tried to make friends here,” You said. 

“Friends?” He lifted a brow. “Who should I start with? Stark? Oh, I’m sure he’d be open to a little reconciliation. Or maybe Rogers? Hmm? He really seems the forgiving type. Or that little redhead thing? She seems peaceable.”

“You could begin with me,” You offered. “I’m not here to provoke you.”

He blinked and shifted in his chair.

“Have I been unkind?” He wondered.

“Not exactly,” You answered. “But not everything needs to be a… snipe.”

He considered you and his hand spread over the binder.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” He said evenly. “I bear you no hostility, though perhaps I do owe you an apology.”

“Apology?” You echoed.

“Regardless of the circumstance, I said what I said that day, it was cruel and there is no excuse,” He said. “You were wounded and I would have watched you die. It might have been a different version of me, but it was me. I apologise.”

“You don’t have to--” You touched your side without thinking. “Thank you.”

“And I will do my best to withhold my contempt. You do not deserve it.”

You were a bit shocked by his candour. You pressed your lips together and straightened the binder in front of you.

“That’s a good start,” You said. “So, now that’s cleared up…”

“What page was it?” He nodded and looked to his binder. He leaned it against the edge of the table as his eyes roved over the tight font. 

🐍

The rest of the week went much the same. However, Tony’s plan to chip away at Loki seemed not to be working as your patience wore away and the Asgardian remained ever stoic. He was almost amused as he humoured your Midgardian codes. 

Your weekend was well earned but didn’t allow for much rest. Steve was due to leave again that week so you had to squeeze what time you could out of him. It could be a couple days, or a week, or two. He could never really say and you never expected him to. You knew how it was when you got into the relationship.

All the while, you tried to catch up on the work delayed by Tony’s pointless ploy to drive Loki out. You hated that he had chosen you for this though you doubted he’d trust any other to do so.

On Monday, Loki was late. You were surprised. He had always been annoyingly early. You texted Steve and he replied with a heart emoji. The door whisked open and had your phone face down on the table. Loki sat heavily across from you, a scrape across his forehead and a split in his lip. His cheek was slightly swollen beneath his eye but he seemed barely fazed by his injuries.

“Oh my god,” You said. “What happened to you?”

“Training,” He smiled and hissed as the gesture pulled at the cut. “My brother… got a bit carried away.”

“And how does he look?”

“To the detriment of my pride, better than I do,” He said. “I did try to restrain myself, though my tongue does not obey me as well as my body.”

“Let me get you some ice,” You stood.

“Really, I’m fine.” He insisted.

“You’re bleeding.” You said as blood began to trickle from the split in his lip.

“I thought I’d stemmed it,” He reached up. “Forgive my lateness.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” You scoffed. “One second.”

You went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and the first aid kit from beneath the counter. You returned to Loki and set your wares down. You flipped open the metal box and grabbed an alcohol wipe.

“Did you clean the cuts at least?” You asked.

“I can handle it,” He assured you.

“Sorry, sorry,” You flicked the packet. “I sound just like my mother right now.”

“I do appreciate it though.” 

He took the little paper packet and tore it open. He blindly wiped the cut along his hairline and that on his lip. You offered him some gauze and he thanked you before he pressed it to his lip. When the blood slowed, he grabbed the ice pack and held it to his cheek.

He stood and you quickly backed away as he tossed his mess in the bin. You packed up the kit as he sat again.

“Thank you,” He said again and you pushed aside the metal box.

“You know, it’s not too uncommon to have a bloody lip here,” You rounded the table and sat across from him. “You good though?”

“Very,” He said with a slight smirk. “I have been anticipating this section most fervently.” He opened the file before him. “Office etiquette. I suppose I am sorely lacking in that.”

You almost laughed at his quip. He wasn’t so cold as that first day and you no longer saw the villainous invader before you. You saw someone wildly out of place. For a moment, you felt bad for him. The glimmer in his eyes quickly smothered it and you wondered for a moment. This was Loki; he could more than handle himself.

🐍

Steve showed up only a couple hours later and waved at you through the glass. He had his bag. He was leaving. You tried not to stutter as you continued reading through the clauses before you and Loki seemed barely bothered by your momentary lapse. You swept a paper out of another folder.

“So, another pop quiz,” You said sourly. “While you fill that out, I’ll just excuse myself for a moment.”

“Very well,” He accepted and played with the pen. 

“Ten minutes.” You promised as you stood and slid the paper to him.

He nodded and looked dully at the sheet. You hurried around the table and out into the hall. Steve retreated and you followed so you could not be seen through the transparent wall.

“Going?” You asked glumly.

“I shouldn’t be long. It’s an easy in and out.” He rubbed your arm.

“Oh? And who’s going with you?” You asked.

“Um, Sam,” He said.

“Ha, sure, easy,” You kidded. 

“And what about him?” Steve nodded to the conference room. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Well, with all Tony’s bookmarks, probably the rest of my life,” You grumbled.

“Gee,” He frowned. “I don’t envy you.”

“Rub it in,” You huffed. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” He leaned in to kiss you.

Your lips met and you grabbed onto his shoulder. You wanted to kiss him forever just to make him stay. But he had to go and you had to get back to work.

“While interoffice relationships are permitted so long as the proper legal protocol is followed, open displays of affection are prohibited as they are unprofessional and unseemly in the workplace and may lead to discomfort of others.” Loki’s voice cut through the air.

You pulled away from Steve and looked to him aghast. You heard Steve sigh and he hitched his duffle up on his arm. Loki held up the paper and grinned.

“Sorry to interrupt but I finished and… well, I think I’ve learned a lot,” He taunted.

“Apparently,” You turned back to Steve as he glared at Loki. “Sorry, I gotta go but… let me know when you can that you’re safe.”

“Of course,” He tore his eyes from Loki. “I love you.”

“You too,” You patted his chest. “See ya.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head and shot Loki one last sneer. “Bye.”

You watched Steve go and turned back to Loki. You hid your irritation and neared to take his paper.

“Thanks,” You said as you swept back into the conference room.

You sat and checked his work. Perfect, as ever. You were certain he didn’t care about any of this but he never wavered. You added it to the pile and looked up at him. He leaned back in his chair coolly.

“Did I pass, teacher?” He teased.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Just practicing my learning,” He smirked.

You shook your head at him and flipped the page.

“Moving on,” You said.

“Must be difficult. Being apart so much.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” You said. “It’s personal.”

“Apologies,” He said. “I was only attempting small talk.”

“It’s okay,” You said. “I just… to be quite honest, I’m cursing Tony as much as you probably are.”

🐍

Another week of tedium and you were ready to tap out. And you were further irritated that Loki showed no sign of distress. He was just as cool as ever as you went through the ridiculous mandates. Just as irksome as you glanced at your phone between sections. His curious, almost taunting eyes, lit up along with your screen.

But you kept on and on Friday, you let him leave a full twenty minutes early. You stayed another hour as you caught up on the rest of your workload. You barely made a dent but you just wanted to go home and hide in bed. Your empty bed. You hoped Steve would return soon.

You yawned as you drove to your building. Your fatigue mounted as you rode the elevator to your floor and neared the door of your condo. It was unlocked. You hesitated and pushed inside. You blinked as you looked around. The lamp in the living room was on but no other light shone and nothing seemed out of place.

You stepped further inside as you dug your hand into your purse and clutched the can hidden in its depths. Another light came from your bedroom door and you carefully crept down the hall in your heels to peek inside. You pulled out the can and screamed as a shadow appeared in the doorway.

You didn’t have a chance to spray the mace as it was batted out of your hand and the surprised chuckle eased your fears. Steve grabbed your arms as he steadied you. He was freshly showered and smelled of his sandalwood soap. He wore only the pair of old grey sweats with the hole in the knee. You shook your head at yourself and smiled.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“About an hour ago. Didn’t think I’d beat you home but I had to try,” His hands slipped from your arms and he embraced you. “You miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” You countered.

“Of course,” He bent and kissed your lips, rocking you slightly. He pulled away and lifted a brow. “You look tired. Too tired?”

You giggled and hit his chest. He released you and slid your purse from your arm.

“Don’t worry, I can do all the work,” He offered. “You just get… comfortable.”

He backed away and set your bag on his dresser. You glanced at the chair where you usually put it and shrugged. You stepped out of your shoes and tucked them down beside the dresser. You stood and removed your blazer. Steve moved slowly to the bed and dropped down on his stomach as he watched you, his head cradled in his hand.

You felt like blushing. He hadn’t been like this in a while. The last few times he returned, he’d been tired; quiet. You gave him his space and he came to you after a while. You knew he needed the chance to decompress but sometimes it felt like he thought your time without him was easier. That your job was easier.

You unbuttoned your blouse and tossed it over the chair, shimmied out of your trousers and let them wrinkle on the seat. Your back ached from sitting all day in the chair and your muscles were tense from weeks sitting across from Loki. He was easier to deal with but that little glimmer of paranoia remained.

You unhooked your bra and swung it around before you let it fly across the room. You laughed as Steve hummed and you teasing pushed your fingers under the elastic of your panties. You paused and gave him a cheeky look. He groaned and perked up.

“You need help?” He asked.

“Well, not with these,” You shoved the panties down your thighs and they fell to your feet. “But I wouldn’t mind a nice massage. My back is killing me.”

“Hmm,” He sat up. His pants did little to hide his impatience. “I could do a massage.”

He patted the bed as he shuffled back to the edge. You went to the bed and climbed up. You eased yourself down onto the mattress, your face nestled between the pillows as you sighed. His hand brushed your leg and ran up to squeeze your ass. He urged your legs apart and moved between them.

“You’re tense,” He said as he pushed his hands over your ass and up your back. His fingers traced the scar along your side and lingered there. It was always so sensitive and made you shiver.

“It’s been a long week,” You turned your head to speak.

“Oh yeah?” He wondered. “He… giving you a hard time?”

“Not really but… I don’t wanna think about work.”

“Then don’t,” He ran his thumbs along your shoulder blades and drew a groan from you. 

You turned back to the pillows and stretched your arms up around your head. His hands kept moving, firm, attentive, magic. Your voice got louder and louder as he found the knots and the little aches perfectly. It was rare for him to be so thorough. Often he was thinking so much about what came next, he barely glossed across your flesh.

He gripped your hips and you felt his breath on your skin. He laid a trail of kisses along your back; lower, lower, lower. He dragged his lips over your ass and nibbled your thigh, then your other. He urged your pelvis up and you obliged. You bent your legs just a little to support yourself, your head buried in the pillows.

He got down on his elbows as he pushed his head between your legs and slid his tongue along your folds. He gently began to lap and your thighs began to tingle. The flick of his tongue grew more deliberate as he brought his hand up to tease your clit. He poked your entrance with his tongue and hummed.

Your fingers closed around the duvet and you lifted your head. You whined as you felt the pressure building. You breathed through your teeth and your entire body shook. You were surprised by your orgasm, how quickly it swelled and crashed. Your thighs quivered and you bit down on the corner of the pillow as you came.

He kept on and you whimpered. Your voice floated around you as your entire being buzzed. His purrs sent a shiver along your spine as his tongue kept on. Then you heard your name. A hollow tone. Confused, familiar.

The warmth of Steve’s mouth left your cunt and you turned. Frantic you stared at the man in the doorway of your bedroom. You looked between him and the identical figure kneeling on the end of the bed. What the fuck?

The Steve in the doorway stormed the other. They met at the end of the bed and you were almost crushed beneath them as you backed up against the headboard. Scared, you watched them tussle until they rolled onto the floor with a crash. The grunts were startlingly similar.

You crawled across the bed and looked down at the struggle. The panic brewed in your chest. You hopped off and grabbed the naked Steve’s shoulder.

“Get off! What’s going on?!” You pulled and found yourself flung back. 

You tried to grab him again and found yourself drawn back by an invisible force around your neck. You were dragged back to the bed, almost choking as the blankets wrinkled beneath you as you tried to latch onto them. You stopped at the headboard and felt along your throat, a searing pain in your palm as the unearthly bound tightened.

You kicked out and the sounds of struggle seemed to fade. You heard Steve groan and watched the naked one stand. He went to the chair and dumped your clothes from it. He carried it to the end of the bed and lifted the other onto the seat. Eerie green lights wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a thicker one snaked around his throat and his lashes fluttered as he tried to blink away his daze.

“What--” 

As the naked Steve turned to you, his blond hair darkened to black and his broad shoulders shrunk, a slightly slimmer and taller figure before you. You wriggled and tried to pull at the restraint at your throat once more. You hissed as your hands burned terribly and rescinded them.

“Why?” You kicked your legs and they were stilled by the same odd green glow. “Loki! Stop.”

“Stop? Why, dear…” He turned and slapped Steve’s cheek. Steve shook his head and his blue eyes seemed to focus. “...you were just starting to have fun.”

“Leave him alone,” You tried to get up but were drawn back even more. Your arms were forced out and your ankles tugged further apart. “Loki!”

“Oh, I love to hear my name on your lips,” He purred as he came closer. 

He drew a slow circle in the air and your body turned so your head was at the foot of the bed. He knelt and turned your head as he pressed his lips to yours. He devoured you as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“Loki!” Steve barked and you heard the chair creak slightly before he cried out. “Lo-ki!” His voice was strained. “Don’t touch--”

Steve’s shouts fizzled out as Loki drew away. You were flipped sharply onto your stomach and you squealed as your head spun. Loki climbed up swiftly and straddled your ass. He ran his hands over your back and squeezed your shoulders. 

He leaned over you and grabbed a handful of your hair. He lifted your head so your eyes met Steve’s. 

“You want to hate me, Rogers, but you haven’t any reason,” He taunted. “So let me give you one.”

“What do you think Thor will do when he finds out? Tony will--”

“You can tell my brother but he’s forgiven me worse and Tony, well, he could have an unfortunate accident in that lab of his,” Loki slithered. “Or maybe this darling little toy might break before I’m done with her. Pity.”

“You--”

“Would.” Loki insisted as he dropped your head and sat back. He hit the back of your head roughly. “This isn’t love, Rogers. It’s not even a crush. This is just… fun.” His fingers crept down your back as he slid back. “Oh, wouldn’t it be a scandal; the golden avenger murders his own lover. Even if it was an accident, well, that serum of yours… dangerous stuff.”

“No one would believe--” Steve choked before he could finish.

“You think I couldn’t make them? What reason do I have to frame you? And it would be easy enough to stage it all.” Loki preened as he poked between your legs. He rubbed your folds as he spoke. “What they believe hardly matters if she’s gone, eh, Rogers?”

You croaked as the force squeezed your neck and you flailed as you gulped for breath. 

“Stop! Stop!” Steve pleaded. The pressure relented and you coughed and gasped. “Loki, please… don’t hurt her.”

“Oh, I never intended to hurt her,” Loki shoved his fingers inside you and you whimpered. “In fact, quite the opposite. Weren’t you having fun, darling?” You closed your eyes and he pinched your thigh. “Darling?”

“Y-yes,” You murmured into the mattress. “Please--”

“Shhh, you don’t have to beg,” He keened. “But I do love to hear it.”

He pushed his legs between yours as he continued to finger you. You could hear Steve’s heavy, angry breaths. Your own were shallow and frantic. Loki spread his fingers and you felt another prod at your entrance. He held you open as he slipped in; two fingers still in you as his cock stretched your walls. 

He impaled you and pulled his fingers out. He sighed as he wiggled his pelvis and lifted your ass. He got even deep as his hands grasped your hips. You sniffled as you fought the heat behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve uttered. You heard the chair wobble but still again as he let out an agonized growl.

“No,” You gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Loki pulled back and slammed into you. You squeaked and he did it again.

“You can have your little reunion when I’m done,” He thrust so hard the bed jolted with each tilt of his hips. “Oh, look at her. She’s shaking again.”

He sped up, a little at a time, until he was hammering into you. You ached from his relentless rhythm and tugged against the bonds. He bent over you and hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you up. He bounced you against him, your thighs draped over his as he worked your body.

You bit your lips and turned your head. You couldn’t look at Steve.

“He can’t look away,” Loki whispered in your ear. “I made sure of it.”

You whined as he continued to use you. His hand slid down to your clit as his other arm wrapped around your chest. He pounded into you from below as he began to rub. You felt the same sudden rise. The same irresistible tickle. You gritted your teeth and moaned.

You let out a pathetic sob as you came. Your entire body convulsed and you pushed your head back against Loki’s shoulder. His breath glossed over your cheek and he bent to press his lips to your flesh. He nuzzled further down and bit into your neck. He snarled as he thrust into you hard and deep.

He shuddered as his hips spasmed and he rocked through his orgasm. He came inside you, a sickly flood of warmth. Your arms were kept suspended to either side of you as you struggled to get away from him. You hung your head and squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out and let you fall forward. You caught your breath and slowly moved your hand to your throat. You raised yourself shakily and looked to Steve. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted, his face pale.

“Steve,” You reached out to him. 

As you made to climb off the bed, you flew back to the mattress, flat on your back. Loki strode around the bed as he snickered. He pushed his long hair away from his face.

“Now, now, you don’t think that’s it, darling.” He licked his lips as he came to the end of the bed and stood between you and Steve. “We have two weeks to make up for. Two. Grueling. Weeks.”

#loki #Steve Rogers #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #fic #one shot #marvel #mcu #dark fic #dark!fic #oneshot

[sugar-petals]

BTS Scenario: Taking Care of Them When They Have a Cold

↳ ♡ NOTE ⇁ time for fluff. autumn season is coming, let me set the mood right here, we’re going cozy 🍂

warnings ⚠️ hurt/comfort, brief mention of sexual tension

⌈jimin⌋ ⇢ Jimin’s cold is unusually subtle. In terms of visible signs, it’d take some time to notice it for someone who doesn’t know him or doesn’t check just how heavy another person’s breath is going. But feedback? You will definitely get. Compared to how he’s pouting about it, which will melt your heart is what I’m saying, the symptoms are understated in comparison to the other members. Taehyung’s cough can shatter an entire neighborhood, Jimin sneezing is as graceful as a gazelle. Mind you, his nose is runny, and the slight fatigue of the first two days isn’t negligible, but the major thing to actively mend is more psychological than physical. In other words, his body does its thing, you don’t have to overextend yourself. 

That’s what you have to figure out first to really take care of him properly. After laying him down and bringing both snacks and liquids, talking is what he needs rather than ten thousand types of medications and cool towels all over him. Jimin doesn’t want to see you become sick as well so you don’t sit up close, but at talking range, and you text a lot during the day while you work. He’s worried about not being able to practice and hopes the cold doesn’t show in his appearance. You assure him it takes five days at best and he is okay again and promise a lot of kisses. With that prospect, healing is even sweeter. And, you know the guy, Jimin misses seducing you, so.

⌈taehyung⌋ ⇢ Absolutely enjoys being babied ten times out of ten. Nothing better than you preparing a hot herbal bath. Rosemary, thyme, camomile. The steam spiraling off the water surface looks so relaxing in the candlelight, the classical music you put on sways him into a trance, he lays there for half an hour just motionless. He gets a little tray of coconut cookies on the bed stand, you play the guitar to him, you massage his feet before he sleeps… Which, and he hates admitting it, makes it nice to be sick. By all means not because of the fever, but the extra attentions, the hot chocolate for bed. Taehyung thinks about that twice and concludes something. He doesn’t want to get a cold just to receive this treatment. Not for his own health nor to worry or overwhelm you, he’s not gonna guilt-trip you into being a servant. 

So, you agree for later: It’s good to treat him sporadically just because, whenever and wherever, cue Shakira. That Taehyung so enjoys a good healing and mending time and it just explodes when you both have a reason to, that’s rather something to expand to the whole relationship. Taehyung will do the exact spoiling for you, with a romantic twist the way you know him. It doesn’t need a sickness to resort to doing nice things for your partner. At the end of the day, the body will remember it and get sick again because it sees what it gets through being ill. That’s something to squarely avoid doing, a random gesture is good for its own sake, amen.

⌈yoongi⌋ ⇢ Grumpy, murmuring, disgruntled he can’t work without getting a headache, needs a lot of silence to recover so he curls up on his own with earphones in and fifty playlists on repeat. He’s like tch, only thing I need is tiger balm to whip me back into shape. Or… wait. Wait a second. A cup of steaming hot coffee with extra foam he will not reject. Or a plate of fried rice. Anything fried and super crispy, really. Yoongi likes those things, especially when prepared by you. Nothing is more honoring. Actually? I’ll change the initial statement. Yoongi does accept some help. You simply gotta find out his catnip I mean favorite dishes and either know the place to order it from or have some kitchen basics down. Nothing super fancy though, it doesn’t need a God’s Menu. The right seasoning does the trick already. 

He wants it mega spicy, sweating out the cold is the way to go said Yoongi’s mom back in the day so he goes by that motto. Love starts in the stomach for felines. If another BTS member drops take-out at the door, even better, that uplifts him greatly. When he munches, that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. Yoongi wants you to eat with him by the bed so that means chili in the bedroom but screw it. All that food and you cranking up the heater distracts Yoongi from his cold and some head pats have him on his way to recovery. And, by the way. He’s kinda turned on by you cooking for him so… the frustration is real, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits once he’s okay again.

★ ⌈namjoon⌋ ⇢ The friendly giant will stay in denial about his cough for at least three days and walk around with way too much medicine in his system. He begs for someone to relieve him, mostly himself, but all those sky-high standards are in the way. Responsibility! Hard work and endurance! Solve it in your head! What is the spiritual reason for colds? How many pills keep you awake for an all-nighter to write an album in one go? What’s next on the schedule? So it goes on, you know the deal with Joonie. You have to kick that leader butt so he finally enters the healing cave under the sheets. Don’t kick too hard though, he doesn’t have Jimin-level cushions. He topples over into his sheets fast anyway, he’s that level of exhausted from his own suppression. 

The story goes on, Namjoon feels extremely guilty for getting pampered and still ponders the reasons why he is ill rather than slowing down a minute and closing his laptop for a hot second. It gets a little awkward unless you figure out your secret weapon. What he feels better with is you reading him stories while he rests on the sofa. I’m not kidding. Or if you’re busy or he wants to be alone, audiobooks. That input is like a lullaby to Namjoon who gets knocked out by the soft whispering only to descend into 12 hours of sleep. Ah, he’s namjooning. Yep. His cold will force him into resting, but by the time he recovers, he is six books wiser and has had the pleasure of listening to your voice which he finds soothing. Thankful he is, anticipate an expensive present and flowers.

★ ⌈jungkook⌋ ⇢ Meal and fluid intake: Quantity explosion! Wow, wow, and wow again, the sheer amount that he can snack and turn into what seems even more muscle and more sweetness. Guinness World Record. He knows his system is currently resetting, he wants to hand it the building blocks, he knows the math. Yes, even sick Jungkook is the cutest foodie in the world. Yes, he will eat his veggies. He worries about not being able to work out so you at least help him stretch his legs ever so slightly in bed. He’s missing his boxing gloves like crazy, he wants to see the members in the practice room, he wants his milk. The latter is easy to get for him, and FaceTime comes in handy. 

Namjoon does a little motivational speech, and Jungkook feels better almost instantly. Later on, you have to scold him — well, just a little bit — for getting up in all that enthusiasm to do some of his routine on the second day, but he already knows it’s not good for him to get his heart rate up like that. He patiently snuggles in a cocoon of duvets with only his eyes being visible. Until, finally, his red lil’ nose goes back to normal and his lungs feel a lot lighter. Jungkook really hates being dizzy, so it’s a weight off his hunky shoulders all right. Then, he can join you at the dinner table for a double portion of extra Parmesan Spaghetti, and you settle on the couch to bingewatch romantic animes and any Studio Ghibli movie in history.

★ ⌈jin⌋ ⇢ It simply can’t be helped, he even wants to make this funny. Humor really is a never-ending well, Jin is Spongebob’s long lost cousin if you go by his amount of meme talk. He calls himself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jindeer, stuffs handkerchiefs into his nostrils, draws smileys on his knees with the cream usually meant for a dry philtrum (he now has very hydrated knees, how about that), does impossible contortions to find the right sleeping or reading position. Honestly, you don’t really have to take much care of him nor worry, Jin will cure himself through laughter. The power of positive emotion. Entertainment is nothing to provide for, he’s a one-man show after all. Jin is the least bored when he’s sick among the group, however! It needs someone else to exchange with, you know. No punchline without an audience. Listening is the best thing. 

Sit, lean back, see what he has to say. The only thing you gotta actively do is stop him from choking on his own spit after a particularly dead-on joke. Maybe it’s introducing some room for serious time that helps Jin enter a different track. I can imagine that. Some talk about memories, talk about sorrows and issues. Jin is a complete man, but he still has plenty of ’em, demons don’t evade handsome people. And those need to be talked through in a silent minute. Jin also enjoys movie nights with a cup of tea in one hand and syrup in the other, that’s the go-to way to unwind. You can finally go all out and pour him his tea, bake for him, serve some self-made popcorn, extra sticky and sweet, oh yum.

★ ⌈hoseok⌋ ⇢ If Jimin and Hobi ever get colds at the same time, this will be the poutiest contest. They’re the most vocal about it in the group. Hoseok, and that will come to surprise you a little, becomes needy. Not at the beginning where he’s confused and emotional about what’s going on with him (someone who works this hard and needs a fully functioning body is thrown out of their lane even by the slightest symptom), but shortly after. You’ll come to understand how sensitive his body is, almost as perceptive as Jungkook’s actually. His body blows up with a strong fever, a hot man heating up even more is just an explosion of physics. 

He needs handkerchiefs, he needs tons of water, he needs music to distract him a little, he needs a heating blanket for his feet once the fever is gone. Granted, every sick person depends on those things, but Hoseok is someone who calls out of the bedroom often because he ran out. He’s not afraid to ask for things unlike Namjoon who would refuse out of overt politeness. You certainly have a lot to do because his cold comes in strong so it’s important you enjoy taking care of him and don’t do it out of obligation. Quality time is what we’re talking about here. It’s not about you doing the things, it’s about the presence. That’s why Hoseok will use his money well and always order proper take-out that’s not just classic fast food, you don’t have to cook or anything.

related: putting bts to sleep after a hard day 

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

#bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #bts domestic au #bts hurt and comfort

[cheeriecherry]

Can you write an hc where bakugou owns a coffee shop and the reader is like a daily costumer there, the rest is up to you! Also your writing is the best, ily mwa 😚

This is my first ever headcanon request pls be gentle TvT

----

-Okay so you probably hear about the coffee shop from a friend

-The place is notorious for its good brews, but also for its...enthusiastic owner.

-You don’t fully believe your friend’s story when they tell you about the guy who yells and shouts and borderline scares customers but also who makes the best coffee on this side of the city.

-So you decide to check it out for yourself! You find yourself in the area one afternoon and figure what better time than today, when it’s dreary outside and a little bit chilly? A warm drink might cheer you up.

-It’s not very busy when you walk in, since most of the lunch crowd has already passed, but it’s definitely quieter than you thought it would be. There are two or three patrons sitting at the tables, either reading or doing schoolwork, and they all seem to be about your age.

-You’re startled when a gruff voice calls out to you, and your attention snaps to the coffee bar, where a spiky-haired blond man stands, looking impatient.

- “What do you want?” he asks bluntly, and it takes you a second to figure out he’s asking you what you want to drink, and not what are you doing in here.

-You fumble for a second, face heating up under his scrutiny, but eventually decide on a simple dark roast with foam on top. He narrows his eyes a bit, but gets to making your drink.

- “I would’ve pegged you as a ‘fancy caramel frappucino with oat milk and vegan whipped cream’ kind of person,” he says, while he waits for your coffee to brew. In the corner of your eye, you see all three of the patrons shift in their seats.

-”Well, I mean,” you stutter, “I wouldn’t say no to that. But you’ve gotta be in the right mood. Today’s more of a dark roast day.”

-He considers you for a second, gaze intense, but he doesn’t say anything else. When your coffee is brewed, he pours it into a travel cup and fixes it the way you’d requested, and sets it in front of you.

-You pay for your drink and offer him your quiet thanks, dropping a couple dollars in the tip jar on the counter, and when you walk out of the building, you miss the way his expression softens ever so slightly.

----

-Your friends don’t believe you when you tell them about your calm interaction with the supposedly hot-headed owner of the shop. They tell you there hasn’t been a time when they haven’t heard him yelling.

- “Maybe you’re special,” one of them suggests, and you’re quick to get embarrassed and swat at them.

- “Not likely!” you say, “I probably just caught him on a good day.”

-Still, you make a point to drop in at the cafe again the next day, around the same time. It’s a little busier than your previous visit, with the end of the lunch rush still lingering around.

-Again, the blond seems to be the only person behind the counter, working diligently and effectively to prepare people’s orders. He’s not bad looking, you decide, not in the slightest, and you’ll be the first to admit that there’s something mesmerizing about the way he works.

- “Hey, space cadet.” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you glance at him with warm cheeks. “What do you want?”

-The line in front of you has dissipated, and you realize you’ve been standing in the same spot, staring, for several minutes. It’s a little embarrassing, but you hope he’ll just chalk it up to you having a off day.

- “Um,” you say, taking a glance outside, “I’ll have a chocolate latte. With an extra pump of espresso.”

- He narrows his eyes at you again before beginning to make your drink. You hadn’t seen him interact with many other people, but you were fairly certain he didn’t scrutinize their orders like he did with yours. Though you noticed he was undeniably calmer while he was making your drinks.

-Whether that had anything to do with you, you didn’t know.

-He sets your drink in front of you a few moments later, and you pay, leaving him with a tip and a quiet thank you.

-You once again miss the way his gaze trails after you as you walk out.

----

-Before long, you find the coffee shop becoming part of your daily routine. You wake up later than most people, get a good portion of work done from home, then take a late lunch, which is usually when you’d stop in to get a drink.

-Over the weeks, you learn a little bit about your favourite barista. You’re shy around him for the first little while, barely mustering the voice to order your drink, but as you grow more accustomed to the routine you get a little bolder.

-You learn his name is Katsuki, but most people just call him Bakugou. You learn that he’s owned the business for about four years, having started it on a whim when his roommate suggested it. You also learn that he’s got a roommate, and that he’s apparently ‘the most annoying person and the physical embodiment of sunshine’ but also his best friend.

-He asks you a few questions in return, your name, what kind of work you do, simple things that aren’t invasive or impolite but that keep conversation going. Your friendship is still budding, but it’s growing steadily. He calls you out when you’re later than usual, and sometimes tries to guess what kind of drink you want, based on the weather (he gets it right about 50% of the time).

----

-About two months into your daily visits, you have a bad day.

-And by bad day, you mean a Bad Day. The kind of day that has you stressed to hell and back, jittering in your own skin, and so restless you can barely get anything done. It makes you want to cry out of frustration. either that, or fully quit your job.

-As such, you’re so busy you don’t get to the coffee shop until late in the day, close to closing. Sure, you couldv’e skipped out on your warm drink for the day, but you didn’t want give up on your favourite parts of your routine just because you’re stressed.

-It’s almost dark out when you walk into the cafe, and Bakugou looks up from the counter when the bell above the door rings. His face softens slightly when he sees it’s just you, but a frown appears when he realizes what kind of state you’re in.

- “Long day?” he asks, leaning against the counter.

- “Something like that,” you sigh. “I need something with so much caffeine, I won’t sleep for six more hours.”

-He narrows his eyes at you and stares at you intensely, instead of getting started on your drink, and you stand there awkwardly while he silently judges you.

- “I think I’m gonna have to deny you on that one,” he finally says, and goes back to wiping the counter down.

-Your eyebrows raise in surprise, and you’re only a little taken aback. “Why?” you ask, “Are you out of beans or something?”

- “No,” he says, “But you look like shit. Maybe I’m going soft, but I think what you need is some sleep. That, or a new job.”

-You’d be more prone to argue if he wasn’t right. You sigh and droop, letting your exhaustion show clearly. “I’ll just have a chamomile lavender tea, then.”

-He gets to work quickly, and you lean against the counter to watch him. You’re both quiet, and it sits a little oddly with you. Though it hasn’t been that long of a time you’ve known him, you’ve gotten used to the idle conversation you share on a daily basis. You never see him talk with other customers like that, and maybe you’re being a little too hopeful, but you wonder if maybe he...feels something for you.

- “Damn, you really are out of it today.”

-You startle out of your thoughts, and your face feels like fire when you tune in on Bakugou’s face. He’s leant on the counter directly across from you, looking you directly in the eyes from about four inches away, two steaming mugs in between you.

- You skitter back a foot or two, apologizing profusely.

- “It’s fine,” he grumbles, taking one of the mugs in hand. “Come sit for a few minutes, though. I don’t feel right sending you out into the darkness when you’re this fucking oblivious.”

-You grab your own cup and hide a smile behind a sip, sighing when you sit down at one of the small round tables.

- “I think this is the first time I’ve sat down all day,” you tell him, when he takes a seat across from you. “Figuratively, of course. I work at a desk, so I’m technically always sitting.”

- The two of your nurse your drinks for nearly half an hour, talking about whatever you feel like, whatever comes to mind. You tell him about the project you’re working on, some shitshow that your boss demanded you take part in, despite it being out of your field of experience.

- “If I don’t do it well, I’ll literally lose my job. And I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, but when I ask people, they’re also clueless! The only person who has any kind of experience with stuff like this is my boss, and she’s refusing to take part in it. ‘Needs her seasonal vacations’ she says.” You grumble a little into your cup. “If I could pick one person to punch really hard...”

-A quiet laugh shakes you out of your reverie, and you glare at Bakugou halfheartedly. “It’s not funny,” you tell him, but he only laughs a little louder.

- “It is, though,” he replies. “You’re so different than what I expected.”

-You tilt your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

-You don’t miss the way his cheeks flush slightly, but you don’t say anything about it.

- “I just mean. Most of the pretty girls who come in here are either so vapid it’s painful, or they’re just here to twirl their hair and flirt with me. It’s fucking annoying.”

- You chastise him a little, telling him that not everyone is the same, to which he replies that he knows that and that It’s just the experience he has with coffee shop girls.

- “You think I’m different, though?” you wonder, setting your empty mug down.

-He averts his gaze ever so slightly, flush still evident on his cheeks. “And pretty.”

- A feeling of boldness consumes you, and you stand from your chair, walking around the small table to come to a stop in from of him. He stays seated, looking up at you and watching you carefully. 

- “I think you’re pretty, too,” you tell him, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “and thank you for the tea.”

- His face resembles a tomato when you pull back, and by the time he snaps back into reality you’re already out the door. However, on a napkin on the table, you’ve left your name and phone number for him, and the sweet message of Let’s go out some time!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanon #mha headcanon #reader is referred to as a girl #this is my first headcanon but i've read enough of them to get the general gist of it I think #Anonymous

[httpteddybear]

Cherry | Harry Styles

SUMMARY; After Harry gets his heart broken once again, he swears off love, until Y/n and her dog bring him a delicious gift and their friendship along with it.

WARNING(S); Cursing, disgustingly adorable fluff, a v cute cameo from my real dog Peachy!! (send her some kisses), slow burn, angst if you squint

WORD COUNT; 7.8k

AUTHORS NOTE; Hey, this is for @tiostyles Fine Line challenge, give her a follow! Also, this is my first time publishing my writing so I’m so so sorry if it’s terrible. Forgive me if it's written badly. I wrote this on Tumblr so sorry if it looks funny or anything. Also pls give all the love to my dog peachy she loves attention. (thanks to @lostincalum​ @h0tsos​ for reading a bit of this) Happy Reading!!

“I don’t know what to say to you except I’m sorry.”

Harry was everything but okay. He’d just found out that the girl he had pined over for months obviously didn’t feel the same. Now Harry was a smart man. He knew the ins and outs of his career and who he should and shouldn’t let into his life, which is why he was so baffled that he’d chosen the wrong person to let into his heart. She’d met Gemma and Anne, even a few of his cousins, and they’d all loved her. It was quite heart wrenching because even though she’d just told him the number one thing that would end a relationship, he still loved her.

“J-Just don’t call him baby, okay?”

—

It’d been almost two months since he’d seen Camille and his life wasn’t really alright. He wasn’t fully over her, she was incorporated into his daily life. His clothes, his thoughts, his eating habits, his favourite tv shows, everything. Somehow everyone found out within a matter of days what had happened, so he got an earful from Jeff. Then he got the sympathy from his family.

The only thing worse than both of those was the pity. When he went to get coffee the barista said she “hoped he was okay.” While giving him his coffee, and then Harry had seen a group of fans and the first thing that was said to him was “you poor baby.” That had set him off. Because even though it was tough, he was not a baby. He could do his own laundry and make his own food. He was not dependent on Camille for any of that, it was just nice to have someone by his side in a non-platonic way. Don’t get him wrong, he still put on a smile as they belittled him a bit. It was what he did.

So currently Harry was sitting on his couch, watching Disney movies. He felt more comfortable in his London home than the one in L.A. so he gathered his essentials and hopped on a plane. He was in a big knit sweater and some sweats. He felt content as ever. He had sort of swore off love when the Camille situation happened, so this feeling of contentment was nice. Inside his home he didn’t really have to worry about prying eyes or people judging him, so wrapped in large clothes looking very small was okay. It was okay outside of home too, but he always had a knack for looking somewhat presentable. He liked to be pretty. As did everyone but it made Harry feel like he was on top of the world. If he had the courage to wear a dress he damn sure would.

As Harry was finishing up he’d decided it was time for a cat nap. So that’s what he did. He didn’t bother to take off his clothes, just lazily pulling himself up the stairs and into his room before crashing down on his bed, pulling the duvet over his feet and up to his neck before rolling to his right side. He’d always been a side sleeper. From what his mom said, at least.

—

“Peachy! Who’s my good girl? Who’s my best girl?”

Somehow peach had found the other shoe Y/n was looking for, and that warranted some love. Y/n smiled as the Samoyed licked her happily. They were about to go on a walk to explore the new neighborhood. Y/n had judged moved into an adorable two-bedroom, one-bath, yellow house. Y/n was the epitome of someone you’d find living in that type of house. With her vanilla perfume, big fluffy Samoyed dog, and overall happy personality, the homeowner thought she was the perfect candidate to rent to.

Going on her way, Y/n decided she’d take a walk somewhere she hasn’t driven through, her best option was essentially a rich community, but she didn’t care. Her dirty shoes hit the pavement alongside Peach, watching as her dog sniffed everything in sight. Turning the corner, she found the cutest little bakery, and her excitement showed. Walking up to the brick building, she’d immediately seen the sign in bold. “NO DOGS.” Frowning, Y/n looked around. She started to walk to the pole she was going to tie peach too, but then she heard squeals.

“Mommy! Doggie!”

It didn’t bother her, so she rerouted.

“Hi miss, is it okay if my dog loves on your little munchkin? She’s very sweet and I’ve heard your child’s excitement.”

The mother smiled at how kind the girl was before nodding. Y/n brought peach over, and she was overjoyed to see the tiny child immediately clutching on.

After a few moments of her chatting with the mother, her stomach decided to make itself know. So she politely excused herself cursing at her stomach for ruining an adorable moment. Tying peach to the grey pole, she trotted inside the bakery. It was mostly empty minus the couple sharing a moment by the window and the assumed college student typing away.

“Hi, welcome to Wall Street Bakery! What can I get you?”

Y/n had to scan over the menu, they had everything from cackle to scones, so it was a difficult choice. But she’d finally agreed on a cup of whipped cream, for peach, and a half a dozen cupcakes. She didn’t know what she’d do with the extra, but she’d figure it out. Pulling nineteen pounds from her purse, she told the girl to keep the change, and she was on her way.

Peach had, as expected, ate all the whipped cream from the medium size cup. Y/n had a single cupcake before she was stuffed, in her defense, she had four slices of pizza, so this was just a tiny snack for her. She didn’t know why she ordered six, but she knew she’d find something to do with the remaining. She and peach started to walk again, taking all kinds of turns and twists, but not enough to lose their tracking. Suddenly Y/n came to a beautiful White House. It looked elegant, so she stopped to admire.

In her mind it wasn’t really creepy, she was just admiring the luxury. The more she looked the clearer everything became. Including the figure in the window of the second story. He sat idle, maybe reading or listening to music, she couldn’t quite tell. He looked dainty, fragile even. So Y/n knew where the five cupcakes would go. She swiftly pulled out a sticky note and a pen and got to work.

‘Hopefully, this sweetens up your day!’

-Y/n :)

—

Harry was listening to music. Mainly Stevie Nicks if we’re honest. He’d decided that today was going to be a relaxing day, which means that going to the studio was out of the agenda. Jeff was okay with it, stating that he had to have a meeting with someone else anyway. So Harry had a fully free relax day. So social media, television, and laziness were his full schedule. Harry had almost gotten caught up with his timeline then his stomach rumbled. He got up, going downstairs. He walked through the living room, still hearing Disney Channel from the tv. Finally getting to the kitchen, he started looking.

Now, after countless walk between the cabinets and the fridge, Harry just gave up. He decided to be a tiny bit productive by getting the mail. Harry slipped his feet in the weirdly angled slippers by the door and walked outside. Harry looked like a proper dad right now, clad in pajama sweat pants, a robe with no shirt under, and fuzzy slippers. As soon as he got outside he saw a pastel pink box with a yellow sticky note on it. Harry wasn’t crazy, but maybe this was something from Camille. Maybe a box of his favourite red velvet cupcakes that her mom made, or maybe a truce. He tried not to get his hopes up. He also wasn’t stupid. So there was no way he was opening that box inside. Just in case.

So, carefully, he grabbed the sticky note from on top of the box. His eyes scanned the letters as a small smile came to his face. Whoever this was, seemed nice and trustworthy, from what he could gather from the tiny paper. So he opened the box, just having to take the small piece of tape that was on the box. Inside we’re a mix of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, and while it wasn’t red velvet, they looked pretty promising. Again, Harry didn’t know this stranger, and he was a bit of a skeptic when it came to random gifts on his doorstep. But for an unknown reason, he felt inclined to just trust his gut. He was getting far too hangry to worry about death.

He picked up a chocolate cupcake and bit off about half in one bite. Trust and believe that he moaned at the taste. When you deprive yourself of sweets for a healthy diet, a bite into any kind of sweet felt like you were on acid in cake land. So Harry forgot all about the mail and swiftly took the box inside, kicking the door closed with his foot. Now he was almost one hundred percent sure that his whole day would be filled with the sweet-savory taste of these cupcakes.

Harry was very grateful for y/n the cupcake giver, whoever they may be.

-

Y/n felt like she was doing well in life, not astronomically good, but well. She didn’t have any major issues, she was generally acceptable by society. Well, her generation society, cause, of course, some piercing, tattoos, weight, and anything seemly not normal to grandmas around the world was a sin. She got okay grades in school and had a nice job. She had enough money for a tiny yellow house, a dog, and of course herself, so in her mind, she was doing more than good. but for some reason, not having a significant other was the biggest problem for anyone who found out. Y/n had boyfriends, girlfriends, flings, she dabbled in just about anything she felt, but for the past three years, getting her and her pet a life was the most important thing at the time. Now, y/n wasn’t opposed to having someone around. Maybe the cute girl at the coffee shop, her curly hair, dark skin contrasting against striking blue eyes, and pearly white smile was enough to give y/n butterflies as she finished her scone that day. Or the cute boy in the window, there was just something about him. Y/n liked him enough to give him five beautiful delicious cupcakes, so that should say something.

Pop culture was something that y/n was very interested in. Every now and then she’d find herself drooling over Calum Hood on her feed or staring at a paused shot of Zendaya in Euphoria for twenty-three minutes. She loved seeing people grow and she could even say that she was a fan. In fact, if you showed her the music video for Best Song Ever, she’d probably burst in your face with “Niall, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, do the shimmy, and Zayn pirouette and Louis do the splits, and Liam you stay exactly where you are because you are PERFECT,”

Y/n loved things like that, it was amazing to see people get credit when they deserve it. Sure she was heartbroken when My Chemical Romance broke up, maybe she cried for two hours when One Direction broke up, but she got over it. She could proudly listen to Welcome to the Black Parade without crying and she even kept up with Niall and Harry, not like she used to, but she tried to like a picture every now and then. Y/n was a go with the flow kind of girl, she moved on from things quickly and saw the good in things. which is why she was very confused seeing #camillerowecancelled all over her timeline. it was hard to not click on it, but y/n was having a good day and she did not need to indulge in things like that, she left that behind when she deleted Wattpad in 2014.

“Ma’am?”

Y/n nearly forgot that she was at a pet store, social media does that.

“Oh! Yes, hi. I was just looking to see if you guys had any Huskies or Pitbulls?”

Y/n was on a mission to get Peach a friend. She felt bad that the 6-month-old puppy had to be all alone while she was at work, so the only option was getting another dog to keep her company. Peach got on well with just about every dog, so it wasn’t a life-changing decision, she just had to find a dog that Peachy would get on well with. 

The worker showed her and Peach to the dog area and just left, for that she was thankful. She had always talked to Peach and she intended to ask her about the dogs she got excited about but she was sure the worker would’ve thought she was crazy. So she walked around a bit, looking at dogs and talking to Peach. Then, she nearly dropped her phone. She ran to the glass swiftly, looking at the tiny pup. It was a Husky-Chow Chow mix, and she knew she already loved her, she had no name yet either. Peach saw y/n get excited and started wagging her tail. soon enough, a puppy was on in front of her and peach couldn’t be happier to see the mini bear-like dog.

“She’s only about eight weeks old, and a lot of work, are you sure?”

Y/n couldn’t believe the audacity of the question. Of course, she wanted a tiny bear scampering around, going on adventures with her and peach. So she signed about thirty papers as quick as she could. She came to the name paper and the question hung in the air. What did she want to name the tiny bear? With Peach, she got a few days to be creative, and the samoyed was just peachy, so she named her Peach. Y/n searched her brain for names until she couldn’t think anymore. Then she squealed. She does that a lot.

Now, Y/n was on her way home, little Pipkin in her lap,  peach sat in the passenger seat as she jammed out to Lana Del Rey. Pip seemed to be having the time of her life, happy to be out of the confined cage. Y/n was, as you’d say, living her best life. She really didn’t have a care in the world. No one could really blame her. Y/n was pretty sure she just scored the cutest dog in all of London.

“Summertime and the living’s easy!”:

Y/n made it home in record time, she's pretty sure she was speeding, but Peach seemed very excited so she wanted them to be able to interact. She put Pip’s tiny leash and harness on, which was proved to be useless. Pip just kept tangling herself in Y/n’s legs and nearly got trampled by Peach. So, Pip got off scot-free just being carried. Peach was sniffing the tiny animal as soon as Y/n stepped in the door.

“Peachy, hold on I promise I’ll put her down in a sec.”

After getting settled, Y/n carefully set Pipkin on the ground, going to the couch to watch the two dogs interact. Peach sniffed Pipkin and vice versa, both faces have been in the butt of the other in addition to their own. They ran around the house for a bit, then the yard. They ate together for the first time, Peach even tried to share her food. They got on well, just like Y/n had predicted, so she decided it was time for a group walk. Y/n put a pastel hoodie over her tiny black camisole crop-top and exchanged her slides for converse, then they were out the door.

Pip seemed to walk better with Peach as Y/n helped guide. She went the same way as yesterday, finding she liked the scenic route even if it was longer. She walked passed the coffee shop, even smiling at the cute curly-haired girl. She passed the bakery this time, she wasn’t feeling sweets today. She walked quite a bit, even taking a few selfies of all three of them. Y/n was excited. She and Peach had a new companion. It might also be the rush of the fact that she's pretty sure the cute window boy is out in his lawn. She tried to keep cool, even almost went to the other side of the street but peach wasn’t gonna let that happen. It seems already Pip has become a rebel because she stayed with Peach. Y/n trained them, but they weren’t like Army dogs, so she let them practically pull her until two houses before his. She fixed herself up a bit, checking that her posture didn’t resemble the hunchback of Notre Dame. 

She got closer and she could already feel the butterflies swirling in her tummy. Peach and Pip must’ve felt it too, because closer they got, the closer to Y/n the dogs got. Especially Pip, but I’m sure its just cause she’s very tiny compared to the man, his hand could probably fit Pip in its palm. Y/n contemplated talking to him, which she did until she was nearly up in his face. When she saw him clearly, oh boy. Butterflies were an understatement. it was like a swarm of fuzzy bumblebees was tickling every part of her tummy. Y/n can definitely confirm that curly hair and bright eyes were essentially her type as of now.

“The boy from the window!”

If Y/n wanted to die before it was nothing compared to now. she literally wanted London to swallow her and her dogs until they were in the middle of nowhere with no proof of their existence. Pip and Peach weren’t bothered, sitting idle in the sun. The gate blocked out a bit of Y/n’s beet-red face, not as much as she would have wished.

-

Harry had decided to go outside. It was a pretty nice day for London, the sun was even out. So after copious amounts of sunscreen, some more presentable clothing, just in case of a fan, and some slides, he was on his way to his larger than the normal front yard. He planned on being out for a bit, so he brought snacks and drinks too. His mother taught him the habit. She always had some sort of snack in her purse and she almost always had those mini water bottles.

He lived in a pretty secluded part of London, but he still wanted to be prepared if a fan came up to him. Harry didn’t want to sound like an ass but more often than not, he didn’t want to take pictures. He was all for living in the moment. After always having a camera on you for about six years, you’d get sick of it too. It's not that he didn’t like meeting fans, he loved it. They made him who he was, but almost every one of them wanted a picture to document that they met him. It's albeit sad, the fact that if you just said that you met him, everyone would ask for proof. Trust does get a bit tainted from fame. 

Harry was almost ready to go inside, he was near sunburnt, and if he didn't get inside his mom would scold him. Now some people might think that he's an adult and that he doesn't need to listen to her. Harry thinks different. His mom is such a kind soul but if you make her mad enough to scold you, oh she’ll scold you. Harry didn't like the feel of the cold aloe vera either. He’d kept it in the fridge, it was mean to cool you down and soothe you, but that's maybe a five minute cool. His had been in the fridge for about two months. Then, he saw a fluffy cloud walking alongside a very tiny bear, so he stayed. Even to just get a closer glance at the dogs.

Now imagine this, you’re on your lawn, waiting for two dogs to pass by, but they stop at your gate. You’re curious and, in this case, you think it might be a fan. what would be the face you made if the first thing that person said was,

“The boy from the window!”

It took him a minute to even process the words the girl just spoke, he was on autopilot walking to his gate and unlocking it. He went up to the girl, she looked sweet, she was very pretty and looked like she could model but also like she had just run three miles, her face was very red. Harry didn’t mention it. Instead, he said,

“Pardon?”

He couldn’t tell who was redder. that was an idiot thing to say, he could see it now if this angel really was famous, the headlines would probably be at his neck, making jokes about how he had shit pickup lines, but he did. That probably warranted cheating in his mind.

-

Y/n couldn’t believe she was about to explain that she was being a creep but she didn’t know what else to say, she couldn’t just let the silence sit but holy shit, she was talking to Harry Styles. Her stomach said barf on his feet but her mind said to play it cool, she chooses the latter.

“I, uh, yesterday, I saw you sat in the window, and you looked a bit sad, at least from where I was standing, so I left five cupcakes at your doorstep. I’m Y/n.”

Y/n saw his face shift, but his eyes showed immediate confusion. 

“How’d you get through the gate?”

Way to go y/n, you trespassed. You finally meet a boy, well, see a boy, and you fuck it up by trespassing? yay.

“I- It was actually open a bit and you looked sad. Listen, I'm sorry but please don't send me to jail. Pip and Peachy need me to feed them and I need my tiny house I beg you just like punch me instead I sw-”

Y/n couldn’t help herself. From her perspective she made a damn good case, cause no one could take the person who has two dogs to jail, Well, they could, but morally? yeah right bitch.

“Hey, don’t worry, yeah? just let me pet your dogs and we’ll call a truce.”

Y/n didn’t think this could get any better. She met Harry Styles, and he likes her dogs. Not gonna lie, Y/n thought he was a cat person, sure he could be a ray of sunshine, but he had major resting ‘step a centimeter too close to me and I’ll kill you’ face. Her need to scream right now was a ten on a scale of one to nine. Sure she kept her composure and would until she got comfortable, but if she was alone, she’d break a glass. One Direction among, various other artists, shaped her taste in music all through high school. She listened to No Control pretty much every day of freshman year, it was on her morning playlist.

Y/n zoned out, caught up in her thoughts, but when she did come back from the wave of nostalgia, she saw possibly a once in a lifetime moment. Her dogs, snuggled up into harry, as he sat there in all his handsome glory.

“I completely forgot to introduce m’self. I’m Harry.”

he held a kind smile, it didn’t fully reach his eyes, but it was genuine.

“I know who you are, congratulations on the new song, by the way.”

He didn’t miss a beat before asking,

“Would you like a picture?”

Y/n honestly didn’t know what to do. Would saying no be too rude? ‘Cause she did not have the energy to pull out her phone. 

“Oh, no thanks, actually.”

He seemed, almost relived? It was confusing. Y/n didn’t meet celebrities on the regular, but she was almost one hundred percent sure that he would have thought she was rude. 

After talking and letting Harry pet her dogs a bit more, she, unfortunately, had to go. She let him know, they exchanged hugs, and she said a sorrowful goodbye to Harry. It was weird, sometimes she forgot that people she looked up too were just like her at some point. maybe playing with a Tamagotchi or beating one of their friends at BopIt. It truly was a ‘rags to riches’ story for so many famous people.

Y/n finally got home, after taking a few pit stops, letting Peach and Pip do what they needed to do. She was relieved to see her tiny yellow house, it held a lot of character for one, Y/n even went as far as naming it Lanana. It was a dumb combination of lemon and banana, re; her house colour. Second, her feet were pretty much throbbing. Pip was acting like she was dying from walking and Peach immediately lied on the floor. Y/n also found the rug to be pretty comfortable as she lied on it, staring at her surroundings.

Her cacti seemed to be doing well, probably cause it was fake. It seemed fairly clean, so she didn’t have to worry about that tomorrow. her tapestry of corgis seemed to have come down on one side, but other than that her walls looked genuinely okay, she has yet to put a hole in them. and her books on the coffee table were still unmoved. Y/n didn’t really read them, but who has books on their coffee table that they actually read? The ceiling was pretty bland though, maybe she’d buy something to put on it. 

Y/n rolled over and pulled out her phone. her eyes were probably going to hurt later. Whenever she started scrolling, it didn’t matter which app, she had trouble stopping. But she’d get up eventually, if not, Peach would probably maul her if she didn’t get her peanut butter covered meds. Y/n debated going on twitter, but she didn't really want to see anything on there, opting for Instagram, she got into a comfortable position and started scrolling.

-

Harry was very, very frustrated. He had gotten a sunburn and that scold from his mom. Anne went on for about fifteen minutes about how he’d get skin cancer and how he’ll feel like leather by the time he’s fifty. She had good intentions, but Harry had thin patients. He did keep it under wraps, he had too. It’d be a whole other scolding if he got snappy with his mum. He actually talked to her for ten minutes, more or less, about what was going on in his life and etcetera before his mum called it a night.

He kept thinking about you, well you and your dogs. Sure human interaction was appealing, puppy interaction was essential. Had you been anyone else, excluding his mum and a few friends, Harry would have called security. He just chose to trust his gut and the dogs that you were with.

It was a rare feeling that harry got around dogs. Not like the love you give your significant other, it was less intimate. More like the love you give a child or someone you love very much. Harry almost considered getting a dog. Big or small the creatures were loyal, always waiting for you to get home and following you through the house. They were very reliable and dependant on their owners. Harry thought that was something he needed. Someone to depend on him, keep him grounded and let him know he was wanted. He had wanted a dog up until he realized that he was too busy. He was always busy now. Getting ready to release a new album, having to give his all for it to be what he imagined. He barely had time to himself, a pet would be too much to handle.

Had Harry realized a singing career would jeopardize his opportunity to get a dog, he would have never auditioned in the first place. Harry always had a love for animals. Now, when you hear that you take into account people's fears, with Harry, you didn’t have to. By the age of three, he was trotting up to garden snakes, helping to untangle them from whatever twig they were stuck in. He helped spiders outside and whatever you can think of that someone would fear, he’d do it. Not because he was brave, because if you told him to try and run over a tiny stream in-between the grass, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you no and throw a fit. Harry was just gentle, in a lot of aspects. 

He was gentle when he broke up with people, he was gentle when his bunny was getting ready to pass away, he was gentle when his sister was stressed looking for colleges, he was just gentle. which came with a lot of selflessness. Everything was Harry’s fault, in the sense that he blamed himself for a lot of things. He still blamed himself for Camille. Her falling out of love wasn’t his fault, she made that clear, but he couldn’t help but nitpick his flaws. The was he sometimes zoned out while she talked, or when he had a meeting but she had an off day, he felt terrible leaving Camille alone.  Harry was off.

He wasn’t broken, he felt okay, there was no metaphorical hole in his heart. Harry was fine. Except for when he wasn’t. The nights of alcohol and screaming led to nothingness. No more screaming, no more soft cuddles in the early hours. Harry was indifferent about it.  On the one hand, he was glad. He had calm peaceful nights and his liquor cabinet was almost always full again. On the other hand, his bed felt awfully empty. He still slept on his side, it felt like she was still lingering. Even with the million times, he washed the sheets, she still felt like she was right there.

Harry hoped he’d get over her.

-

Y/n was running detrimentally late. She’d gotten the best job interview and guess what? She got up an hour too late. By the eighth time she snoozed, she realized she had to be up. So she did some shitty ‘natural’ makeup, threw on a blazer, a cami under it, and the matching pants. She still looked bomb, Y/n would never doubt that. Especially when her confidence needed to be high. So now that Y/n was pulling up to get coffee, she’d regretted getting up so late.

The drive-thru was packed, everyone getting their own coffee. Y/n opted to go inside, coffee was like her push to get through the day and a Trenta should be enough to keep her somewhat lively. She still had to wait in a line inside, but this one was shorter. She tapped her thigh and scrolled through Instagram until she was at the counter. The barista was cute, having cool dyed hair was something Y/n gravitated towards, she could never get her hair a crazy colour, having to work serious jobs all the time. She always had to stick to somewhat natural. She’d rebelled at some point in middle school with bright, neon red hair. Then she’d stuck to natural colours, neon didn't look that good on her.

–

She picked up her coffee, taking a sip before starting her journey to her car. Well, she was, then the universe decided she needed a cute cliche.

“Oh! shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even looking an-”

–

“and I just bumped into you, I’m sorry oh god.”

Harry recognized Y/n, and he wanted to say hi. Apparently, his version of hi was coffee spilled all over her shirt. He didn’t mean to, but the profuse apologizing was kind of cute.

“It’s fine love, saw you ‘nd thought I’d say hello.”

Harry caught Y/n blush at that. Albeit she got flustered over the tiniest things. She was quite cute now that Harry wasn’t distracted by dogs. She had a very nice style, besides the fact that there was now a stain on her camisole. She nearly matched the cafe chairs with her pants and blazer. It was cute.

She was cute.

–

To say Y/n was shocked was an understatement. For once a cute guy wanted to talk to her and she didn’t have to pine over him for months first. It was nearly a miracle. Y/n was a nice girl but confidence wasn’t always her strong suit. She couldn’t just talk to people, no no, she usually had to make an idiot of herself first. With the looming failure over her head and her heart racing, it made it very hard for Y/n to make new friends.

“Oh, for sure, uh I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.”

He held a finger up, signaling her to wait. He was discouraged she’d think he was weird and leave. But after coming back outside, a hand full of towelettes, he saw she was still there. Y/n took the damp fabric, wiping her blazer a bit, the only place the stain was visible was her blazer. Thank god for her camisole being black otherwise Harry would be able to tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sure she likes attention but not wearing a bra was solely hatred. Primarily Y/n had underwire bras, they were like hell around your boobs. So she opted out, it wasn’t like she expected to see Harry. He’d probably already noticed, it’d gotten considerably cold. He hadn’t said anything though, so there wasn’t much to dwell on.

Y/n patted herself down, thankfully getting most of the coffee stench out of her clothing. She’d forgotten all about why she was wearing a blazer or her interview. Y/n had her priorities all off, of course, Harry was more important than her interview, logically no, but Y/n wasn’t thinking with her head. Who would?

Harry was trying to decide whether or not he should ask for her number, was it too soon? What if he looked too desperate? The press would eat that up, he could already hear a tacky headline being typed. Y/n didn’t look like the type of girl that would care about that type of stuff. Desperate was surely socially constructed. Harry was obviously in too deep, who cared about any of that? he was gonna go for it.

Y/n was starting to see a difference in her blazer as the stain dried. Harry seemed spaced out, literally. He looked like he was on Mars. Harry looked like he was gonna say something, as he looked Y/n in the eyes for the first time.

She was gorgeous. Sure he’d dated models and beautiful women, but this was like home-brewed, authentic beauty. Her hair looked so soft, it was the type of hair that matched a lions mane, one he could imagine all over the pillow next to him. He liked Y/n, she was cute. After seeing her a few times Harry was almost drawn to her. She had an expensive personality. Not the kind of snobby, rich expensive, but rich with delicacies. She was kind to strangers she spoke to, and her dogs fit right with her, almost giving her a throne of cute, fluffy, kindness. The music in the coffee shop was heard outside, Harry swayed his body a bit to the beat.

“So, since we’ve run into each other a few times, I guess the universe thinks we’re soulmates.”

Harry didn’t need to rip off the bandaid, Y/n had just done it for him. Her smooth words flowed to him like silk, sure maybe Harry was getting a bit stalkerish, but it was all with good intention. If Y/n could be confident enough to say that and smile on, surely getting her number shouldn’t be that hard.

“So, ehm, I was wondering if I could ‘ve your number?”

Y/n was properly freaking out. Who wouldn’t? Harry looked at her with the most adorable gleaming eyes and just how could Y/n ever say no to that? He was her type but elevated. He had the bad boy vibe, but a heart of gold. Y/n liked to think of him as a milk dud oddly. But he and the mild dud alike had a hard, chocolate exterior, but sweet, chewy, caramel insides. He was ethereal. 

“Yes, yeah absolutely.”

-

It was now about a month after that. Harry and Y/n were going strong in the friend zone. Every time Harry asked Y/n out she was busy and vice-versa. Somehow the universe had gotten them together, but now it was like it vanished. All the work was now in their hands. It wasn’t as if having a date with one another was work, it wasn’t. Frankly, they really did enjoy each other's company, even through texts. But it was their literal work. 

Y/n couldn’t get a day off to save her life. Her boss was a bit of a dick. On top of it, most days off were spent graciously on the couch, feet propped up, and two dogs cuddling into her, all three intrigued by SpongeBob and Squidward arguing. Harry was in the middle of finishing up his album, so most of his time was spent at the studio. His days off were spent in L.A. It was rare that he was in London, sometimes he had to beg for a break. Thankfully he had jeff who sort of understood. So sure breaks were rare, but Harry spent so much time trying to work his hardest that he was keeping himself from it at this point. 

Harry had done enough waiting. Y/n seemed right up his alley. Her personality wasn’t too overbearing or too happy, she was a perfect state of nirvana. A calming aura came where ever she went and Harry could almost feel it through his screen. He and Y/n texted about anything. It could be a meme she sent him at three am, in turn, he’d laugh but tell her to get to bed. Or he’d send her minuscule things, like the stuff he sees in his everyday life that reminds him of her. Was Harry fully over his ex? No, but he’d get there. For you, Harry would at least try. Everyone had understood he was hurt but Anne pushed him to be happy for him, so that's what he was doing.

He’d texted Y/n about setting up a little get together, he didn’t want to call it a date, thinking maybe he’d scare her off. Y/n was persistent though, responding with ‘So it’s a date.’ It wasn't even a question, she’d just said it out in the open in hopes that Harry would be okay with it. He was. If Y/n could’ve seen his face when he read it she’d probably get a good laugh because as soon as he processed the text his lips curled up, bringing his mouth into a toothy smile. It felt nice to have someone paying attention to him again. He’d seen a few fans on his drive, waving as one cried, she immediately apologizing for being an ugly crier. There was something about finally getting a date and talking to the fans that put him in a fantastic mood. 

He was currently sitting in traffic, just coming back from seeing his mum. The surroundings were a bit bleak, all the houses were either White, Gray, or Black. Harry loved colour. He loved being able to express himself with pleasing ones that coordinate. Sure when he was little he’d throw on a raincoat but put shorts on, but having a stylist most of his life helped. His style was like a grandpa in a twenty-year-old’s body. Not that he cared, but it was a bit of an improvement from young British bloke who thinks he’s cool. Traffic started moving and Harry took his foot off the break, shifting gears to get moving. What was he doing? Well he, was on his way to get a particular bubbly nirvana girl. He and Y/n had planned the date about a week ago and agreed that they’d do something as soon as he got home. She insisted that he went home and relaxed, but Harry was stubborn, assuring her that he’d be fine. 

They had yet to plan where they were going, Y/n had talked about just going out and figuring it out when they ‘cross that lightbulb’ and he agreed. He neared the street that Y/n had given him and his mind was getting the best of him. Not every girl was the same but what if? There was always a possibility that it could happen again. Was his heart ready to risk it? Not fully, but one date couldn’t damage him that much. Harry always had a strong heart. When someone pushed him off the slide in primary school he’d said he fell. In Secondary school when his crush Rachel traded him for someone older, he’d let it go. He was strong and he could handle this. Y/n didn’t seem like she was like that.

He pulled up outside of her house, smiling at the bright colour. It was very her. Her windows were bright and open, he could see a small succulent on the ledge inside. She had a well-kept yard and the grass was as vibrant as ever. Considering it was London it could be hard to maintain a yard or even a garden, the weather was always temperamental. He heard the door open, watching as she stepped out from behind the white door. She looked beautiful, clad in some spandex shorts that fit her bottom nicely and a big sweater. It looked like a merch sweater of some sort. 

Y/n had a cute little bounce in her step, her hair bouncing a bit too. She and Harry had been on the best terms. They texted almost every day following him getting her number. She got to know him a bit better. She paid attention to a lot, she was an observer. The way he typed and formed sentences was very pleasing to the eye, at least he didn’t have terrible grammar. She reached the car, giving him a smile as she got in the car.

“How are y’love? Hair looks nice.”

Y/n smiled, attention to detail was always nice. They had also joked multiple times about her secretly being a lion cause she’d sent him a selfie after a particularly long day at work the day before. You could see the tangles and how frizzed it was. Harry thought it was adorable.

“Thanks, I’m good, at least it's brushed this time, right?”

He laughed. It was a nice sound.

“Any thought to where you’d like to go?”

Y/n hummed, thinking a bit.

“I was thinking ice cream, it’s rare that London has had this many sunny days, I’m wondering if we should be scared.”

They both laughed, agreeing on ice cream.

“Y’want the aux?” Harry offered.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Y/n hooked up her phone, going to Spotify and smiling as Hey Jude played through the speakers. She and Harry sang along ridiculously off-key and talked the entire drive to the tiny ice cream shop. Harry stopped the car and got out. So far, Y/n wasn’t bad. In fact, she was great. Her happiness radiated through the car, he bets it's hard to be in a bad mood around her. She’d opted for no makeup and Harry liked that. He loved girls with and without makeup but it was a gesture he appreciated, even if it wasn’t for him. 

Y/n looked up at the options, she didn’t particularly care for a lot of it, she didn’t want to eat something that had too much sweetness, she’d get a tummy ache. Harry had ordered Moose Track ice cream while Y/n ordered Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake. This was typically her go to unless she was sad, then she buried her sorrows in Cherry Garcia.

They didn't even sit down before they were chatting. Conversation flowed easily between them. They could go from talking about their day to talking about childhood. It was nice, there was no pressure to come up with a topic. If there was silence as they at it was comfortable, the ice cream shop wasn’t very full, it is on the outskirts of London, so they didn't have to worry about paparazzi. They talked about their favourite bands, people they looked up to, fashion choices, just about everything that came to mind. It was nice, Harry and Y/n singing to their heart's content to the Queen flowing through the shop, Y/n even getting up and using her spoon as a mic. Harry hadn’t felt this nice in a while.

“Then he turned and there was a garden snake and I’ve never heard a fifty-year-old man scream at a higher pitch than him.”

Y/n finished off her story, she and Harry had been laughing their asses off for about an hour, they’d been there for about two. 

“This is nice, love hanging out with you.”

Harry’s words held sentiment that made Y/n’s heart burst. 

“Same.”

Y/n replied, laughing as he made faces at her. This was easy. No pressure, nothing was forced, it was genuine first date bliss.

“Oops.”

Harry smirked as he took his spoon, putting a bit of chocolate on her nose,

“Harry.”

Y/n whined dragging out his name. He laughed, leaning forward. He kissed the ice cream off her nose watching as her cheeks tinted pink, it was adorable.

“You asked for it.”

next thing Harry knew there was ice cream on his nose now too, except she didn’t kiss it away, opting to take her finger and wipe it. bringing the finger to her mouth she laughed, making a face resembling the grinch as she licked her thumb. They didn’t want to leave, Harry would pay to have time freeze and keep this moment present forever. Sadly he couldn’t. They got up, going to the register.

“I’m paying.”

Y/n stated, dismissing Harry’s protests. 

Harry had dropped Y/n off, and there was no doubt he wanted to keep her around. He had his doubts but the small time that they had in the ice cream shop was phenomenal. Was Harry fully over his ex? No. But that was okay. He didn’t have to rush, he’d be just fine getting over her with Y/n’s help. He didn’t need a therapist or a new girlfriend, he needed someone to show him that he could have better. Y/n was better. As long as you two kept talking Harry was sure he’d be over it in no time.

y/n; so plans for our next date? ;)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #x reader #finelineficchallenge #fine line #fic challenge #cherry by harry styles #angst #fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #wowow this took a bit to write #and im doing tags while in the middle so its not even done #also to anyone who doesnt look at the tags #hi what r u doing here #i wrote paragraphs at a time havshsb yimez #YIMEZ #omg yes #masterlist #AND SHES DONE! #yahtzee