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tsumucore · 4 years

Text

LUCID DREAMS

✎ … Miya Atsumu

word count: 5.2k

warnings: NSFW, pwp, daddy kink, a lot of degradation, spanking, choking, sexting, overstimulation, masturbation, he kinda spits in your mouth, just rough sex overall

All characters are 18+ !!!!

A/N: this is my first nsfw fic, so pls bear with me 🥺 I’m also dedicating this to @starboybokuto and @strawbericream for inspiring me and also bc they’re literally smut icons in the fandom and after writing this, I’m realizing just how hard it it to do and I just wanna appreciate them for all the effort they put in <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

His moans were like honey, pouring from his sweet lips and into your ears, as his thrusts became erratic. He was close. The sounds of your own pleasure filled the room before he swallowed them up completely with his beautiful mouth. You were close. This space that was inhabited by you two was the only dimension where time didn’t exist. Nothing else mattered in this moment, except for each other. You were so, so, so, so, so clo-

“Wake up!”

Your roommate’s exclamation breaks you out of your lust-filled slumber with a jolt. You groan and silently curse her as details of the dream gradually come back to you; she’d have to make a run for it if she valued her life, or at least avoiding getting smacked in the face by the pillow you throw at her with impressive force.

“Y/N, what did I do? she whines. “You told me to wake you up. I only did what you said!”

“Literally fuck you, I was having a good dream,” you fire back.

“MAN if you don’t… anyway shouldn’t you be in class by now?” Your eyes widen as you fumble for your phone to check the time.

“Shit!” Usually, you wouldn’t have bothered showing up if you were running late, but this class took attendance, and you were already on the cusp between two letter grades. A menial attendance point could be the difference between maintaining your GPA or tarnishing it.

You wash up in record time, throw on some clothes, and shove your necessary belongings in your backpack before slinging it on your back. You don’t even have time to fill up your water bottle; you’d just have to purchase one on campus later. You pop in your earbuds, select a random playlist, and fly out the door.

You don’t stop until you reach the lecture hall. You try not to cringe as you push open the door, slinking your way in the back to find an open seat; luckily, there was one near the door so your humiliation was short-lived. When you finally sit down and situate yourself, you take a deep breath for the first time that morning and collect your thoughts.

As your mind wanders, memories of your erotic dream come back to you. The faintest of color tints your cheeks, and you shift slightly in your seat as you subtly cross your legs. You pull out your phone, preparing to fire a text at lightning speed. You need your boyfriend.

Y/N: i miss you

Atsumu: :))

Y/N: im not trying to gas ur big head up even more than it already is i’m just whore knee

Atsumu: OH????? aren’t you in class rn?

Y/N: i’d rather be choking on your fat cock tbh

Atsumu: naughty girl, why are you saying such things in the middle of class?

Y/N: what are you gonna do about it... choke me? spank me? make me cum over and over and over again?

Atsumu: Watch your mouth, baby...

Y/N: Ok...

Y/N: ...daddy.

Fighting the smile tugging at your lips, you set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and refocus your attention on the professor’s droning voice. By the time lecture was over, you scramble out of the building, eager to make a quick call to your boyfriend so you could describe to him in specific detail everything you wanted him to do to you.

Alas, you heard the voices of your friends calling out to you, so you’re forced to sit through idle chit-chat until your next class starts. Of course, today was also a full day, so you would have to endure the rest of your classes, your position as a TA, and the study session your classmates were pulling together at the library for your next exam - which just so happened to be in two days, meaning you couldn’t opt out. At this rate, you wouldn’t be leaving campus until dark. And it was only 10 in the morning.

While you daydream in your next class, you’re broken out of your reverie by the realization that you had neglected to check your phone after effectively ending the conversation with Atsumu the way that you had. You unlock your phone, seeing that you have just one unread message from him - a photo.

You know what’s coming before you even open it, so you’re careful to ensure that your screen isn’t in anyone’s line of sight - luckily, you were sitting in the back again, so there aren’t any prying eyes over your shoulder. You turn down the brightness and open the conversation before practically salivating on the spot.

You have an idea of what exactly the photo was going to be of, but nothing could prepare you for the effect it had on you.

It’s evident that he had propped up his phone on something and taken the photo on self-timer. Bleached tufts of hair fell over his forehead as he winked back at you through the screen with his lips pursed as if he was going to kiss someone. The only thing he wore was a gold chain around his neck. He was flashing a peace sign with one hand, while the other was wrapped around a good sized erection.

You feel your mouth dry up and your thighs subconsciously squeeze together. The way this photo was triggering a physiological reaction from your body was astounding. You need this man, and you need him now. You whisper to your friend that you had to use the bathroom, that you might be gone for a while - it must have been the iced coffee going straight through you - and to let you know if you missed anything. You try not to trip over anyone’s legs in your haste to get to the restroom.

Since this was a fairly large building, there were multiple restrooms, and so you locate the one you know is always empty and secluded - the one below the main floor. Once you enter, you do a quick check in each stall to make sure you’re alone before locking the door. You go into the biggest stall and commence with your plan of action.

You take off your shirt and bra and neatly hang them on the hooks behind the stall door. The sudden exposure to the chilly air makes you shiver as your nipples harden in response. You then bring your phone up to your chest, so that your face isn't in frame and begin to record yourself lightly massaging your breasts. You make sure to softly moan Atsumu’s name when you pinch your nipple, rolling it between your thumb and index finger. After about thirty seconds, you promptly send the footage to your boyfriend.

He immediately starts facetiming you which causes your thighs to squeeze together expectantly. When you answer the call, you’re greeted with dark, lustful eyes and a shit-eating grin.

“I heard someone missed me today.” His tone is slightly mocking, indicative of something deeper underneath.

“I had a dream about you,” you inform him as you slowly begin to massage your breasts the way you had before.

“Yeah? What happened in your dream?” His eyes darken as he shrewdly observes the way you sigh as your fingers glide over your nipples. God, he wished he could just take them in between his teeth.

You bite your lip in response to his tone becoming increasingly huskier. “I dreamed about you… fucking me.” Your voice falters a bit as you suddenly feel a wave of shyness rush over you. Atsumu often had this effect on you - sure, there was no limit to the amount of things you had done together; however, he was still able to make you feel flustered, as if it was the first time all over again.

“How naughty,” he scoffs. “You love actin’ so innocent, but what would people say if they really knew what was goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours? What would they say if they saw what you were tellin’ me in the middle of class? Do ya know what they would say, dollface?”

You can’t bring yourself to respond, only managing a feeble shaking of your head.

“They would call you a whore. A filthy, depraved slut. And do ya know what sluts get?”

Again, another feeble shake.

“Nothing. Sluts get nothing,” he laughs mockingly as he angles his phone until you have an adequate view of the way he’s been stroking himself this entire time. “And now, dollface, you’re gonna have to watch me get myself off. I want your hands off of yourself entirely... If I catch you touchin’ yourself even once, you get nothing. But if you’re good, I might just play with ya later.”

You whimper at his order, but you have no choice; you had brought this upon yourself by getting him riled up with those texts in the first place. As you swallow thickly, he begins to jerk himself off - slowly at first, torturing you with each stroke as he looks directly through the camera and into your eyes. He then begins to pick up the pace as heavy pants and the occasional moan escapes from his mouth.

“See what ya did to me, baby? This is all because of you.” His breathing grows erratic as he edges closer and closer to his release. “And now look at you. Watchin’ a man jerk off in a public restroom, with your tits out, when you’re supposed to be in class like a good girl. Now tell me, does that sound like a good girl?”

You merely whimper in response.

“Answer me,” he practically growls. “Does. That. Sound. Like. A. Good. Girl.”

“No,” you whisper as you feel a surge of arousal rush to your core. You knew your panties would be suffering thoroughly by the time you returned to class.

“Then tell me, dollface. What. Are. You.” Each enunciation is emphasized with a hard stroke to his cock - the same way he would be thrusting into you. It takes absolutely everything in you not to sneak your hand down to your throbbing clit; he’d know if you did, he always did. The prospect of not being touched by him later was unthinkable, so you continue to helplessly watch him fuck his own hand.

“I’m a filthy whore, your filthy whore,” you whine in compliance as you watch him thrust into his hand a few more times before letting out a long, drawn out moan and spilling his release all over himself. You can’t help the moan that escapes your own lips as you take in the sight of his flushed face and heavy rising and falling of his chest.

“You actually listened to me for once? This is a surprise,” he chuckles once he recovers from his orgasm. “Hurry up and come over… I’ll fuck ya ‘til you can’t even remember your own name.”

•.｡.༺✩༻.｡.•

For the rest of the day, you hoped you were doing a relatively adequate job of hiding your arousal as you went about your responsibilities. You were literally counting down the seconds until you were finished with everything so you could meet up with Atsumu and let him fuck you like he promised. At one point, you caught yourself almost drooling during your group study session at the library. You took this as your cue to leave, so you politely excused yourself by letting the others know that it was time for you to leave as you had to get up early the next morning.

After what felt like the longest and, thanks to Atsumu, the most torturous day ever, you felt completely ravenous. From the second you had woken up, you had been straight up horny, and the fact that you hadn't been able to take care of it was driving you insane. You had been rushed all day, never having a moment to yourself, and when you did, Atsumu had specifically instructed you not to satisfy yourself the way you needed to be satisfied. It was unfair.

To make matters worse, you missed the train that would take you to Atsumu’s apartment as he lived quite a while away from your campus. The next train would be leaving in an hour, which was just too much for you at this point. Delay after delay. You grit your teeth in frustration as you weigh your options: you could wait another painstaking hour for the train that would inevitably take you to your dick appointment or you could spend a fortune by calling for a taxi and getting there right now. While you mentally calculate your finances, your clit throbs just slightly when you cross your legs, which causes you to throw all thoughts of being a penniless college student out the window in favor of getting fucked mercilessly as soon as possible.

•.｡.༺✩༻.｡.•

Of course the elevator in Atsumu’s apartment building was currently out of order at that moment, leaving you with no other choice but to climb the seven flights of stairs to his apartment. At this point, you feel like you’re running on some sort of primal instinct as you sprint up the stairs with the vigor possessed by only someone who’s about to be dicked down. By the time you reach his door, you’re already huffing and puffing, but your own exhaustion escapes your mind as you ring his doorbell impatiently. Once the door swings open, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend smirking back at you.

The motherfucker wore nothing but loose gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips and the same gold chain around his neck from earlier. You chuck your backpack on the floor and throw yourself onto him, pressing your lips against his (minty?) ones. The kiss is sloppy and intense as you try to make him feel the desperation you had been forced to endure all day long.

Somehow, your clothes find themselves on the ground in a matter of seconds. He lightly slaps at your thigh, a signal for you to jump into his arms. When you do, your hands immediately find themselves tangled in his hair, and you tug at the roots lightly, earning a growl from him. You gasp and moan into his mouth when you feel his hands give your ass a good squeeze. He manages to carry you like this into his bedroom before gently dropping you onto his bed, where he palms himself above you as he gazes at your nude form. On god, you can literally see his dick print through his sweats, and it only fuels the wetness forming between your thighs.

“Atsumu, I’ve been waiting all fucking day long. Stop being an asshole and fuck me already like you promised,” you whine as you reach your hands up to rub them along his abdomen, relishing in the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips. You were hoping that this would coax him into giving you what you want, but he merely ceases his actions and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who do you think you are, talkin’ to me like that?” His eyes narrow, and he leans down so that he’s hovering directly above you. “Is my baby so goddamn horny that she actually forgot her manners?” His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, gradually squeezing it harder as he glares at you. “Looks like I’ll have to remind ya how to properly speak to me. Turn over - I want that ass up in the air.”

You pout as you obey his command and flip over on your knees so that your face is shoved into the pillow and your ass is sticking straight up for him, bracing yourself for what you know is about to come.

“You know the drill, since you wanna be such a goddamn slut - count for daddy.” Before you can respond, his hand collides with your left asscheek, causing you to yelp and moan, “One,” weakly into the pillow. The sting doesn’t last for very long, but you know better - by tomorrow, you won’t be able to sit properly.

He continues delivering powerful slaps to your ass and admires the way it jiggles with every smack and the redness blooming across the soft flesh. Every so often, he plunges two fingers into your now sopping heat, without warning. He removes them as quickly as he puts them in, causing you to whine in frustration. By the time you reach ten spanks, you’re babbling incoherently as you wiggle your hips in the air, clenching around nothing and desperate for anything to fill you up.

He flips you back over on your back and scoffs at your desperation. “Have you learned your lesson, whore?” It’s not a question - it’s a demand.

As much as you want to do or say whatever he wants so that he can fuck you already, it’s always more fun to see what happens when you piss him off. You jut out your lower lip in a pout and stare up at him defiantly. “No.”

Before you know it, you’re being flipped back onto your stomach. Another round of brutal spankings are delivered to your asscheeks, causing tears to prick your eyes as the burning pain sets in. You’re going to be sore for the next week.

“Leave it to a whore to be so mouthy,” he growls as he flips you over on your back again and thrusts two fingers into your cunt. “But you like this, don’t ya? You like pissin’ me off, because you like getting your pretty little ass spanked and you like being choked, whether it’s by my hand or on my cock. I should shut you up with my cock, since you wanna be so mouthy. Tell me, do ya like choking on cock, whore?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moan quite loudly. The combination of his degrading words and consistent thrusting of his fingers in and out of your pussy was sending you into a haze.

“Of course you fucking do,” he spits. “You told me so yourself when you were sitting all innocent in class. In fact, what else did ya tell me?” His thumb was now brushing vigorously against your clit during each thrust, causing your legs to shake violently. The whimpers falling from your lips grow louder as you focus on the buildup slowly forming in the pit of your stomach. However, your lack of response doesn’t impress him. He immediately pulls his fingers out and slaps your pussy, eliciting a jerk from your entire body and a drawn-out moan from the surprising sensation.

“Answer me, fuckdoll. Or you get nothing.” He literally shoves his fingers back in and continues his relentless thrusting, filling the room with the squelching sounds of your sloppy cunt. You scramble to remember the contents of the lewd texts you had sent him earlier that day, but your brain is so hazy from the orgasm you know is about to hit you, that you’re stumbling through your words.

“I-I said something about w-wanting to choke on your cock-” your sentence is cut off with a long moan as he applies direct pressure on your clit with his thumb.

“We established that already, dollface,” he scoffs. “What. Else.”

“I d-don’t remember,” you wail and thrash your head side to side against the pillow. Your release is so close, you can taste it. “Daddy, please let me cum - I’m going to cum!”

“Don’t remember? That’s a shame,” he remarks as he completely stops his actions and pulls his fingers out, yet again. You let out a scream of frustration at the fact that your orgasm was just cruelly ripped away from you. “Let’s see, maybe we need a refresher.” To your disbelief, he pulls out his phone and scrolls to the conversation from that morning. “Hmm, you told me to choke and spank you… Well, I’ve already done both of those, so what else?” His eyes narrow down at your quivering form and, to your relief, he puts his fingers back in you and continues thrusting. What was the last thing you told me, whore?”

“I-I told you to m-make me cum over and over a-again,” you gasp out as one final sharp thrust sends you completely over the edge. Before you know it, you’re screaming his name as you crash down from your high.

You moan in bliss as you feel the utter fucking release of the tension that had been building up inside you all day long. However, you barely have time to relax before you realize Atsumu’s still going at it in your now sensitive pussy.

“Tsumu,” you gasp as you feel your body jerking in response to the oversensitivity. “It’s s-so much… I-I c-can’t-”

The motherfucker literally laughs as he watches your face contort from the sheer overwhelming pleasure. “What? You asked for it. You’re droolin’ already and all I’ve given you are my fingers.” His jeering words ignite the fire building up for the second time as tears stream down your face from the overstimulation. “You tellin’ me you want me to stop?” He stuffs a third finger inside, stretching you even further and eliciting even more delicious cries from your lips. It felt like his fingers were thrusting even harder and faster, if that was possible.

“N-no, keep g-going,” you wail before you’re hit with your second orgasm of the night. All that you’re able to get out is a blubbering combination of “daddy” and “Tsumu” as your vision goes white and you hear the roaring of your own blood in your ears.

Atsumu finally slides his fingers out of your drenched pussy, eyes fixating on the string from your fluids attached to them. He takes advantage of your still panting mouth to stuff his fingers in between your lips. “You know what to do.” His eyes darken as he watches you desperately suck on his fingers, tasting your own essence on them. After he feels that you’ve effectively done a thorough job of cleaning them off for him, he smirks and pulls them out before leaning down so that he’s hovering above you.

“Good girl. Open wide for your reward.” Once you comply, he works up a good amount of saliva and lets it fall in your mouth, directly on your tongue. You moan as you relish the taste of his spit and swallow it all. “Thank you daddy,” you beam up at him.

He draws himself back in satisfaction as he pulls his sweatpants off, freeing his rock hard length and letting it slap against his abdomen. As spent as you are from your previous orgasms, there’s nothing you’re craving more than for him to be balls deep in your tight pussy. He just remains where he is, stroking himself as he watches you grow impatient for him to do something already.

“Tsumu,” you plead in the calmest tone you can muster. “Please fuck me already.”

He merely continues to pump his cock, much to your dismay. “How much do you want my big cock, whore?” Again, it isn’t a question.

“I want it more than anything in the whole wide world,” you beg. Each stroke to his cock only serves to increase your frustration.

“Prove it.”

You let out a groan and proceed to rub your tits, squeezing them together and rolling your nipples in between your fingers. In your attempt to please him, you notice the way Atsumu slightly picks up the pace of his strokes as he watches you play with your tits.

But it still isn’t enough for him.

“You can do better than that.”

Fucking hell. You let go of your breasts and spread your legs, hooking your hands behind your knees so that he has a perfect view of your pretty, spoiled pussy. Your cheeks burn as you bring your hand down to spread your lips, offering him access to your slick hole. “C’mon, Tsumuuuuu… I’m all good and ready for you.”

Atsumu swallows thickly and finally relents. He grabs your thighs and holds them open as he positions himself at your entrance and pushes into you. You’re so wet from your previous orgasms that he slides in easily, burying himself to the brim as he loses himself in the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you and lets out a long moan. It feels like your pussy is literally swallowing him up as he bottoms out. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself being deliciously, oh so wonderfully, stretched. His fingers were heavenly on their own, but nothing in the world could compare to the feeling of his thick cock hitting all the right spots in you.

“Fuck, yeahhh. You’re so tight, fuck. How are ya so tight?” Atsumu’s breathing is heavy as he squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the sensation of your walls clenching around him. He starts thrusting slowly, checking your face for any signs of discomfort. However, you grow impatient and start wiggling your hips, urging him to go faster. He scoffs and slaps your breast in response. “Be patient, dollface. You’ll take what I give ya.” You whimper, but cease your actions. Atsumu must have apparently decided that was enough for him as well, because he picks up his speed.

His hips slap against you from the brutal way he fucks you into oblivion. His strokes are deep and hard, causing you to turn into a sobbing mess. The room is filled with the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries begging him to not stop and go even harder. The way he pounds into you has your entire body rocking back and forth as you moan at the feeling of his pelvis meeting you with each movement.

“M-more, daddy!” Drool is seeping out of the corners of your open mouth and your eyes are glazed over from the sheer feeling of him being balls deep in you.

“You love being fucked like this, don’t ya?” Atsumu’s grunts fill your ears and you clench even tighter at his words. “An’ it’s never enough for you. Insatiable whore.” He delivers a particularly sharp thrust at the word “whore” which makes you blubber nonsensically. You want to tell him that you’re his insatiable whore, but your words are jumbling together as all your senses are devoted to the way his cock is slamming in and out of your cunt.

At this rate, you’re about to cum again in no time. Atsumu picks up on this and makes you wrap your legs around him so he can pound into you even deeper from this new angle. The tip of his dick now hits your g spot with each brutal thrust, making you literally scream in delirium. He’s more than pleased at your response, which is why he suddenly halts his movements and tilts his head at you in the cockiest manner. You want to scream and swear at him in every language possible, but you’re in such disbelief that all you can muster is the dirtiest glare at him. He laughs at the way your hips involuntarily move around him.

“Look at ya, you’re so fuckin’ cockhungry. I’m not even doing anything and your pussy’s tryna suck me in.” Before you can protest, he suddenly pulls out so that just the tip of his dick is inside you and slams back in with no warning. He’s back to thrusting into you, hitting your g spot with immense force.

Before you know it, the knot that had been forming in your stomach completely snaps. His eyes train on the way your tongue lolls out of your mouth and your eyes cross together as your mind goes completely blank when you cum yet again. Your pussy clenches around him, causing him to swear profusely, and your fluids gush out involuntarily. Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is covered in the sheen from your sweat. He lets go of your thighs and leans over to meet your lips with his, never stopping the steady rhythm of his thrusts. You pant into his mouth as the sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears and the cool metal of his chain dangles against your skin.

“C’mon, make that face again for me.” Atsumu begins to rub your clit harshly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you as your entire body shudders.

“I-I-I…” Your teeth are clenched and your eyes are squeezed shut as pressure fills your head from the overwhelming sensation spreading throughout your body. It’s all too much, and you’re not sure you can cum again.

“Give it to me one more time, pretty girl. I know you can do it, I gotcha.” Atsumu starts sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear and continues to fuck you with the vigor of a possessed man. The bedframe shakes uncontrollably from the way he pummels into you. His thumb rubbing furiously at your clit sends shock waves of pleasure throughout your overly sensitive body and before you know it, the familiar pressure is building up in your stomach again.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my go-,” you chant as your eyes roll back in your head and you scream out his name while your vision goes completely white. Atsumu groans at the feeling of your tight walls milking his cock for everything he has. Your whole body is shaking, and you’re so wracked with pleasure that you can scarcely process the way his thrusts grow sloppy as he gets closer and closer to his own release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His groans fill the room as he erratically pummels into you to chase his high.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Want you to fill me all the way up.” Your words are slurring together at this point due to the heady arousal clouding your mind, but they’re enough to tip Atsumu over the edge. He lets out a moan and his hips stutter to a stop as you’re overcome with the feeling of his cock twitching inside you and suddenly filling you to the brim with his cum.

Atsumu collapses on top of you and pants heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. The two of you are silent for a good few minutes before he gathers whatever strength is left in him to pull out of you. He remains somewhat on top of your utterly spent body and peppers kisses all over your face. “You good?”

“Never better,” you reach a hand up to stroke his hair, and he hums contentedly in response before rolling over to your side. He throws an arm over you, hugging you to his body and just stares at you lovingly.

“I wasn’t too rough on ya, was I?” His hand reaches down to your ass to rub soothingly at the marks left by him.

“You were perfect, babe.” You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. “I’m sleeping good tonight, thanks to you.” He smiles at this and positions himself so that his head is tucked in the crook of your neck. He closes his eyes for a while as he savors the feeling of you stroking his hair and planting kisses on the top of his head.

“Babe?”

“Hm?”

“Ya wanna order food?” His eyes are still shut and you chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Who’s callin’?” He snuggles a bit further into you.

“Not it.” His eyes open and he looks up at you before literally pouting. You can’t believe this is the same man you were calling “daddy” just a few minutes ago.

“Why do I hafta do it,” he grumbles.

“Sorry that my phone’s out there and yours is literally at your feet because you wanted to be theatrical and ‘teach me a lesson.’” You smile as he continues to grumble under his breath, but pushes himself up to grab his phone and dial the number of your favorite takeout place. “Love youuuuuu,” you sing-song and flash a toothy grin at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I love ya too.” He rolls his eyes and lies back down next to you as he speaks to the worker on the phone. The entire time he absentmindedly plays with your hands as you sigh contentedly and bask in the feeling of being with him.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

masterlist ｡･:*:･ﾟ rules

#im not used to writing smut oR full length scenarios so this was quite the feat #like i think an actual tear slipped out once #i hope u all enjoy teehee #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu hcs #atsumu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu writing #haikyuu smut #haikyuu

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

; i'm coming home

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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starsstruck · 3 years

Text

strange phenomena; part one.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. cafe run-ins, old love letters, and bittersweet nostalgia.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, slight mention of sexual content words: 13.3k

series masterlist

an: thank you for being patient with me. this is just a little story from my little heart shaped brain. thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta-ing and being supportive and the overall best 💌 i hope everyone enjoys and please do let me know what you think ! happy reading xoxo 💌

There was something unsettling about not having a schedule.

Your entire life, you had been told that you weren't supposed to quit a job without having another one already lined up, and you had been able to keep up with that. Until now.

The impulse to leave the office that left you frustrated, tired, and overworked had been bubbling up inside of you for years, and it was only a mere couple months ago that you finally snapped.

Snapped, grabbed your things, and quite literally ran away. Call it a life crisis, maybe considered somewhere between a quarter and a mid, but there was something about simply leaving everything behind that took a temporary weight off your shoulders.

Which is how you ended up in a little town in eastern France, staring out the window of the café where you sat and watched the snowfall that had just picked up again.

There was an emptied mug on your side, crumbs of a delicious pastry sitting on a plate, and a blank page in your worn notebook. You had everything you needed to work: your favourite playlist softly playing in your ears so you wouldn’t get too distracted by conversations around you, not one but two notebooks filled with a year's worth of thoughts, and warm clothes that wouldn’t leave you with indents in your skin after sitting for too long.

But apparently that didn’t necessarily mean that you would be making much progress.

Five days since you had gotten to Annecy. A friend of yours had moved out to the old tourist town a number of years ago after meeting her partner, and they were nice enough to let you stay with them. Five days of trying to work and still no progress.

You had daydreams of sitting down, words easily flowing as you would fill pages until the sun set. But it was only five days, a little leeway was okay, wasn’t it?

That idea of a bit of little leeway, however, was constantly being bullied by the big label of unemployed. You knew very well, soon the need for a job would be coming back and all those daydreams would have to go back on a hiatus.

But here on the fifth day, after picking at the crumbs of your long gone croissant, you decided to pack up your things and call it a day. That was the one thing you were able to do – tell yourself that today nothing would be done and that was okay, instead of spending the rest of the hours until midnight forcing yourself to do something.

So you buttoned up your wool coat, wrapped on your scarf and stepped out into the light snow to trudge back to your temporary housing.

Harry had seen you the second time you were there.

You were a creature of habit - just as he was apparently so - and you seemed to always return to the same café, the small but warm La buvette du marché, tucked away in the old town.

He nearly fell over his feet when he saw you sitting in the corner, earbuds in and eyebrows furrowed so deeply he could see the creases in your skin, even from the distance he stood away from you.

He left in a hurry, in a panic. He told himself that he had likely imagined it, maybe he was still jet-lagged, maybe his mind was tricking him, maybe it was some odd lucid dream during an afternoon nap.

But then he saw you again, on the fifth day as you packed up your things in a huff and hugged your coat tighter around your chest. You looked too wrapped up in your own thoughts to even notice anyone else around you, except for the quick smile that you shot to the older woman behind the counter before you were walking out into the darkening street.

Harry couldn’t help but slightly spiral a bit more. He tried to recall any mention from remaining mutual friends, or even acquaintances, about you coming here, but couldn’t remember. He even considered calling some, but decided against it in a quick grounding moment when he realized that it would seem far too odd.

Even more so, he couldn’t believe that you found yourself in the small town at the same time as him. In the same place. At the same time.

It was all too familiar.

He took that as a good sign.

The seventh day – now a week in – you were back at the café.

This time you had managed to scribble down some ideas. Last night you had barely slept, tossing and turning as you tried to force your brain to come up with something, anything.

Just as it always went, as you were falling asleep it seemed like you had an idea going but unconsciousness soon took over and you were left with bits and pieces to pick up.

Today, you hadn’t gotten something to eat right away and instead told yourself that once you got a good chunk of work done, you would treat yourself to something sweet and a little break.

Harry, by not so much of a coincidence, was also back.

He liked the small town of Annecy, winter was a bit of an off season no matter its proximity to the Alps, and it was lowkey enough to where he could easily keep a low profile and go as he pleased.

He walked over to the same café in the late afternoon, hoping that maybe maybe you would already be there. It was making him nervous. But maybe you wouldn’t be there, and that would stress him out even more because maybe this was all a dream?

But there you were, twirling a black pen between your fingertips as you subconsciously chewed at the inside of your lip. He could tell by the way your chin was slightly protruding, and the way your lips moved lightly. He almost hated himself for being able to notice such a thing.

This time, you were the one to look up at him.

And lucky for him, or maybe unlucky he wasn’t sure yet, he was already staring back at you.

He could see a flurry of thoughts filter through your eyes. Your eyebrows unknotted for a moment, before furrowing even tighter this time with your mouth slightly parting and then closing.

He tried to smile, finding himself shuffling closer to you as he tried to recall how to use his feet and his voice. Calming down just the slightest bit when you offered him a tiny wave, he took that as all he needed to keep walking the path that led to your table.

And then he was standing a mere few feet in front of you.

When you spoke, it made it all that more real for Harry.

Obviously, you were physically there in front of him, something he couldn’t have imagined happening to him now, but the quiet “hi” that escaped past your lips made blood rush to his ears.

He cleared his throat – he didn’t really need to, he just felt he could use the extra second – before repeating the greeting back to you. “Hey…”

You couldn’t break his gaze. Seeing – and hearing – the hesitation in him, you almost wanted to tell him to leave you alone and try and forget this had ever happened. Maybe leave for some place else.

But you really didn’t want to do that.

“What,” the word was a puff of air. He felt out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

What were you doing here?

“Working,” was all you said, wincing slightly at the way the statement sounded. You felt like your heart was about to explode, like all words seemed to escape you and that the floor was about to crack open and swallow you up.

He only stared at you.

You sat up straighter, lifting a hand from where it was resting on the table to motion to the empty chair across from you. “You can have a seat – if you’d like.”

It was like he was on a three second lag, staring at you for a moment too long before reacting to your words. With a quick nod, he sat himself down across from you, bag falling to the floor near where yours was. He kept his coat on.

“Nellie’s really letting you work from here?”

You didn’t miss the slight pettiness of his words.

Shaking your head, you decided to ignore it and instead rolled your lips into your mouth before glancing back up at him. “No, I uh – I quit.”

His eyebrows shot up so quickly, the sudden change in his expression nearly made you flinch. He quietly kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, as if you were about to tell him that you were joking.

“You did?” He finally said, and if you paid close attention, which of course you were, you could see a little quirk in his lips. “You really quit?”

Unable to help the small chuckle that left your mouth at his reaction, you felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I did.”

A smile was pulling at Harry’s mouth as well – you could tell that he was trying hard not to with the way his lips slightly pursed and he bit them together. But he couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he cleared his throat once more and leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. “Good for you.”

Another silence came over the two of you. Your right hand was pinching the skin of your thigh through your trousers to ground yourself, to remind yourself that Harry was really sitting here in front of you. Out of anywhere he could be.

Everything about him was so familiar. You recognized his coat, the dark green that you knew was so warm to be wrapped up in. His hair looked longer since the last time he was in front of you, but it also sat slightly messy and unstyled over his head. He was nervously twisting the few rings on his fingers – most of his fingers were bare which was something you hadn’t seen in a while.

Even the way he watched you, his steady stare that seemed to speak to you without needing to say any words, left you to be speechless.

Of course, you had thought about this moment over in your head countless times.

You fantasized about him showing up at your door, late at night and begging you to talk to him. You thought about running into him when you were out for errands, and would ignore him altogether. You thought about him calling you or what would happen if you called him, what you would talk about and everything he’d tell you. You had dreamt of everything that could possibly happen, but now you sat frozen.

“So uh,” Harry’s voice broke you out of your reverie. “If you quit, where aboust are you working now?”

You bit your lips together. “I’m not…working anywhere. Working for myself, I guess.”

He gave you a surprised look once more. “Writing?”

You only nodded, unable to help the smile that was building on your mouth. And Harry couldn’t help but mirror it.

He took a moment to take you in, closer this time. You were dressed warmly, a thick purple sweater hanging off your shoulders that hit fairly low on your hips, over loose black trousers. The lavender made you glow – he decided it was his new favourite colour on you.

You had a different pendant hanging off your neck, and he could see a second chain hidden beneath the collar of your sweater. A series of pens were in front of you, and he knew that you had been toying with them based on how they were haphazardly thrown over the tabletop. You kept slipping in your bottom lip between your teeth, something he couldn’t help but watch as every time it brought his attention back to your mouth.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your mouth.

“That’s great to hear,” he nodded after another moment too long in silence. “I mean, you know I’ve said this before so I’m not going to say it again but –” he cut himself off, already finding himself rambling. “It’s good. I’m glad that you’re doing it.”

You chuckled again, and he felt himself melt a bit deeper into the chair across from you. “I’ve really barely started but. Thank you, Harry.”

It was the first time he’d heard you say his name in so long. He liked hearing it, he missed hearing it.

“’Course,” was all he said. “I’m happy to hear that you’re writing.”

Another silence when you simply nodded.

“Why did you come here?” He spoke softly, the somewhat elephant in the room getting aired as you briefly averted his gaze.

“Wanted to get away,” you said honestly. “And Eloise offered for me to live with her for a bit, so it was an easy decision.”

“Easy,” he mused, repeating the word as he momentarily pulled at the sleeves of his sweater. “Taking some time to relax?”

“Something like that,” you paused, thinking of how to ask him the same thing. “How about you – are you passing through or…?”

He lightly shook his head, drumming his fingertips over his thigh. “I’m here for some time.”

“Oh,” you closed the notebook in front of you, leaning your forearm over it. You opened your mouth to say something else, but you seemed to not remember how to form words. He jumped back in.

“I’m here writing as well actually – or trying to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Album?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, leaning forward in the chair again to rest his forearms over the tabletop, similar position that you were sitting in as you both lent forward. “Been trying to get it done for far too long now.”

You remembered – you remembered in your last weeks together his frustration over his inability to be happy with what he was creating for his third album. You held your lips closed with your teeth for a moment, unsure of which thread to follow. He continued once again after you didn’t say anything.

“I’m here alone,” he paused. “Staying in a small place just outside of town.”

You couldn’t help the quiet scoff. “You’re never alone.”

He laughed to himself. “I am this time.”

You both felt like you were circling around the same thing. You were the first one to voice it. “So you decided to come… here. To Annecy.”

He looked at you dead in the eyes, as if challenging you. “Yeah, I did.”

Another silence fell, this one seeming to be heavier than all the other one’s combined.

“It was –” Harry finally broke the silence after what seemed like ten minutes. You wished your brain was working at the moment. “It’s really nice seeing you.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “You too.”

He tucked his feet under his chair, ready to push back from the table and stand. He was ready to leave the café, think about this moment every hour of the days to come until he managed to let it go. If that’s what you wanted.

But you didn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long,” he sounded nearly remorseful as he blindly reached for his bag at the floor, not wanting to look away from you.

“Wait –” you said way too quickly, but you didn’t care. “Stay – if you want.”

He paused every movement he was making, glancing up at you with a growing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, familiar warm feeling spreading through your chest when his expression eased. “We barely caught up.”

Harry slowly leant back into the chair, nodding with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Okay – I’d like that.”

He unzipped his jacket then, resting it on the back of his chair and pushed the sleeves of his sweater up over his elbows. Leaning forward again, this time not to stand but to take a peek at the mug sitting in front of you.

“Did you want another?”

“Still working on this one,” you smiled in thanks, grabbing the cup with the lukewarm coffee to take a little sip.

Harry quickly had his own coffee in front of him, clutching the little mug in his hands as if it would act as some kind of buffer between the two of you.

“I hope you stormed out of that office,” he told you, after once more asking if you had seriously quit your job.

“Wasn’t that dramatic, unfortunately,” you laughed, also wishing that you had the guts to cause a scene and walk out of work. “I gave my notice, had a very civil last chat with Nellie and that was really it. Can’t really afford to burn any bridges.”

Harry didn’t want to comment too much on your recent unemployment, the emotionally exhausting nature of your previous job being a hot topic of conversation when the two of you had been together. He decided it was best to bring up at a later time, if he had the opportunity that is.

“What are you working on now, then?”

You mindlessly picked up a forgotten pen, twirling it between your index and middle finger a few times before letting it fall back down. “What I’ve always said I would.”

“Book?”

You shrugged, not wanting to think about the implications too much. “Something like that.”

He wanted to ask you about it further, but you easily changed the subject. “How long have you been here then?”

“Just over a week now,” he took another sip of his coffee. “And you?”

“A week,” you tried your hardest to stop the way your lips started to curve upwards, at the fact that you had both come around the same time. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, as a little nervous chuckle escaped his mouth. “How is the album coming?”

His laughter died down. “Not well,” he said honestly. “Nothing really since…” Nothing really since we were last together.

You nodded, knowing what he was about to say. “Keeping myself busy - I was actually filming for a movie the last few months.”

“I read that,” you nodded, not realizing you were admitting to slightly keeping up with what your ex was up to.

Another silence came across the two of you when you both took big sips of your drinks, you finished off the rest of the now cold coffee that had completely lost its charm.

“You look good,” your voice came out a little quieter. “Rested.”

You swear you saw a little pink hit his cheeks. “Thank you,” he hummed in response, having a thousand compliments ready for you but none of them found their way past his lips. “Are you allowed to tell me I look good?”

It was a cheap shot, but he took it.

You paused, a small smile pulling at your mouth. “Friends can compliment each other, no?”

Friends.

“Of course,” he hid his expression behind the mug that he raised to his mouth. “In that case - you look good - incredible even.”

He added the second part on a whim, still staring you down as you refused to break his gaze, never one to back down from a subtle staring contest.

A small sliver of silence passed, before Harry cleared his throat.

“I hope I’m not keeping you,” he murmured, watching your hands fiddle with the pens that rested more or less untouched on the surface of the table.

“You’re not,” you shook your head. “I’ve barely gotten anything done either way. If anything, I’m distracting you.”

Harry bit his lips together. He was never one to complain about how much you distracted him. “You’re always a welcomed distraction,” he leant his forearms further over the table. “Not so much progress here either.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you laughed lightly when Harry raised his eyebrows, giving you an incredulous look. “You were constantly writing. Never met anyone with so many filled notebooks.”

“I guess but I – I couldn’t make anything out of it, you know? I don’t know if you remember,” he glanced up as you gave him a little nod. How could you forget about any moment spent together.

“Still feel just as stuck.” His brows knotted, staring at the table for a few seconds before glancing back up at you. “Sorry, for unloading this on you.”

“No, no it’s okay,” you offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay if it takes you a little longer – if it takes a few tries.”

He forgot how much comfort he could get from your smile. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Feels like I’ve exhausted everything – like there are no words left for me to write.”

You couldn’t help what you said next. You didn’t mean to make it about yourself, you didn’t mean to even say what you did. You simply could not help it.

“Ever write about me?”

Harry stared at you for a few seconds. “You seriously…” he trailed off, eyes slightly wide on you. You had an apology ready on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again. “Filled countless books about you.”

You knew he wrote to you, leaving you little love notes or poems in your home or hidden amongst your things for you to find. Sometimes romantic, sometimes a little more explicit. But for whatever reason, you never imagined him writing a song about you.

He kept speaking in your silence. “You can’t be that humble – you can’t believe that I would never even think about writing about you.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I guess …I don’t know.”

Maybe you had been more successful that you’d thought in pushing memories of him away.

“To be honest, I uh,” now he was the one finding himself at a loss of what to say. “I didn’t want to put out something that was so personally about you. Wanted to keep you to myself.”

He lifted his eyes from the table, meeting yours before quietly murmuring. “Still do.”

A thick silence settled this time. You watched every small twitch in his demeanor – the quick bite of his lip, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his eyes flicked around your face just as you were sure yours were doing right now.

And they were, he was analyzing you, making new notes of your every feature that he could see for the thousandth time. He finally broke the silence, his voice sounding so loud all of the sudden.

“Come see what I have written.”

It was less of a question. Whether showing you old writing was really the only intention of the invitation was lost on you - and on Harry as well - but neither pondered on it too much.

You hadn’t said anything right away, but he was already reaching back to grab his jacket that was resting over the back of the chair. Slowly, you mirrored his actions and quickly began to pack up the pens and journal that had sat untouched for a good part of an hour.

Once you both stood wrapped in your coats and scarfs, with bags pulled over your shoulders, he met your gaze once more. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a tentative smile. You realized you were nervous. Sitting with him in a public café was one thing, but spending time with him alone? That was something completely different that you weren’t sure you were prepared for. “Are we walking?”

“If that’s alright,” Harry nodded. “Staying just up the hill.”

And then you were off, following him in the thickening coat of snow that covered the yet to be plowed streets. Walking side by side at a safe distance, the falling snow hit you from every angle as the wind seemed to be starting to pick up.

Hugging your arms around your chest, you walked in silence for most of the trip.

At one point you were trying to move out of the way for a group of young school kids that were walking by, speaking far too fast for you to catch any words of their french as they excitedly bounced through the snow. Your foot caught on a lift of the sidewalk that was buried under the snow, giving you a momentary loss of balance.

Harry, however, was quick to notice. He had his arm looping through yours before you even realized you were tripping, as he held you upright and close against his side.

He knew that you were watching him, he could feel your eyes burn into the side of his face but he kept his gaze forward. The small kink in his lips gave him away though, when instead of pulling away you cozied yourself a bit more into his side and kept your arm tightly looped with his.

The rest of the walk was spent like that as you both trudged up the hill, out of the hub of the old town and out to the residential area. He quietly led you to his temporary housing, pulling out his set of keys from the inner pocket of his jacket and undid the front door of the building.

Walking up only one flight of stairs, you were soon being ushered inside a nice little apartment that could only be described as a character home. It was neat and cozy, just eclectic enough with tiled kitchen walls and different patterned rugs.

It was exactly the kind of place you had stayed in last time you were here.

“Let me turn the heat up,” Harry muttered, as you both shook off the snow from your hats and hair, hanging up the dampened clothing before warming back up in the apartment.

“Something to drink?” He called from the wall where he was presumably adjusting the heat, as you curiously glanced around the space he was staying in.

“What’ve you got?”

You easily found the kitchen as it was right after the hall from the door. A couple cups sat in the sink but it was otherwise clean. Harry joined you, standing across from you as he went to grab something from the fridge.

“”Have some mulled wine ready to be heated,” he pulled out a thermos.

“That sounds good,” you spoke quietly as you watched him work around the kitchen, grabbing a saucepan to heat it up.

He seemed to be stalling – you supposed you were as well. You didn’t know what you were doing here with him. You saw two possible outcomes, maybe three, but you didn’t know which one you were the most okay with.

Harry felt as though he had either been far too quiet, or was rambling too much. He wanted to ask you everything and find out absolutely everything and anything that had been going on in your life in the past ten months. He needed to calm down.

He heated up the homemade spaced mix, adding in a generous amount of the red wine. After a little moment while you distracted yourself with texting Eloise, you saw him pour a generous amount into each mug before turning off the element on the stove.

He handed you one of the mugs – a painted yellow ceramic one – settling to lean back against the counter across from you while you gripped the handle of your cup.

You lightly blew on the smoke billowing out from the top, holding the mug out to him in a quiet cheers before each taking a sip.

It was still too hot, but you both seemed to be stalling from whatever was about to unfold and you took any chance to distract yourself that you could. The drink had been a good idea, and was already warming you up – probably both by the liquor and the temperature of the beverage

“Good?” Harry broke the silence, after swallowing another sip of the drink. He had one hand resting over the ledge of the counter, elbow bent with a relaxed shoulder while the other hand held the mug. You wondered if he really was relaxed or just appeared to be – you seemed to be having a hard time reading him at the moment.

“Really good,” you nodded, occupying your mouth with the beverage as you found yourself at a loss of what to say at the moment. “Thank you.”

Conversation seemed to be flowing so nicely in the café, but now it was like you had no idea how to be around each other.

Harry was nervous. When he made the offer to show you the countless unseen songs about you, he hadn’t really thought it through. It had seemed like the right thing to say, and he really did want to share that with you, but things were just so … uncertain.

He could tell, by the way you kept one arm crossed around your front with the other’s arm elbow perched to keep the mug by your lips, you were uneasy. He didn’t want you to be that way, he wanted you to be nothing but comfortable with him.

“So where is that writing you were bragging about?” Your smooth voice broke him out of his daze, as he lifted his eyes back up to see you peering at him from behind the mug.

Rolling his lips in against his teeth, the corners of his lips perked up both at the way you were looking at him and to mask the slight pit of nerves that suddenly appeared. “Give me a sec’”

Leaving his mug with you in the kitchen, he made his way to one of his bags where he knew was packed a series of old notebooks – all taken with him for any kind of inspiration.

Flipping through them, unable to help the way he suddenly grew anxious over the idea of showing these to you. Especially out of the blue. Especially after this sudden reunion.

Deciding what to show you and what not to, he triple checked that he had grabbed the right book before making his way back over to you. He found you exactly where you were previously, mug in one hand with the other holding your phone, quickly typing something with just one thumb.

At the sound of his footsteps, you placed your phone down on the counter and glanced up at your ex. Finding his place across from you in the kitchen, he extended the notebook out towards you. It was clearly worn in, little scribbles of words across the leatherbound cover.

You recognized it. From being perched over his lap, tucked in his bag, next to him on the nightstand. You knew it.

“This was from that winter – actually think I filled it the last time we were here.” His voice was low, nearly distant as he tried not to look at you.

He didn’t know why he was sharing this with you now – maybe he felt like he needed to prove something, maybe he just missed you.

Wordlessly, you grabbed the worn book from him and tentatively opened it in your palm. Glancing up at him, he was clearly nervous and doing his best not to watch you read his every thought about you.

His eyes were cast to the side, looking out the window as if watching the heavy snowfall. With his arms now crossed over his chest, the thick knit of the sweater he was wearing bunching under his arms, you realized he looked more than nervous, almost worried.

You wondered if this was all a terrible idea.

Having not realized that you were still watching the profile of his face, looking at the way his eyes flicked from the window and down to the untouched mug that sat still on the counter. He grabbed it in a hand, the soft clink of the rings he had on against the ceramic being the only sound in the room.

You were sure he could feel you watching him, so much confirmed when the next place his eyes moved to were your own. Neither of you spoke, instead watched each other closely from either side of the small kitchen.

His expression was practically unreadable to you, something that you didn’t encounter often. You briefly thought he was upset with you, before he muttered. “Going to make dinner, if you’d like to stick around for some.”

Slightly surprised by the offer, even though you realized that when he had invited you to trudge up the hill with him to read a few half finished songs that probably wasn’t the complete intention.

Nodding, you answered with a low “thank you,” as he turned his body around and left the kitchen, no doubt searching for something elsewhere and leaving you to read alone.

Finally flipping open the book to a random page, turning a few pages until it looked less like a mess of scribbles and you could pull out several coherent sentences.

You found a small date written at the top of the page, and realized that this had been right in the middle of your last vacation in Annecy together.

You had to read over every word three, four times, before your hands moved without thinking and you were flipping the page to find more. Laying the spine of the notebook down against the kitchen counter, you leant over above it, completely captivated.

It was all so overwhelmingly beautiful. You didn’t realize that a small puddle of tears was gathering on your waterline until you blinked, and a few of them escaped and slid over the tops of your cheeks. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

It was everything you remembered about being with Harry. Everything you remembered about the last time you were together in the little French town. Every ‘I love you’, every stolen kiss, every touch and feeling shared. It had been the happiest you ever remembered being.

It took you months to forget, or maybe not forget but not think about. And in a flood of it all coming back, you couldn’t help the tears that seemed to come flooding out as well.

Shutting the notebook a bit too quickly, you remained in your hunched position as you sponged at your tears with the back of your hand, wiping them away the best you could. You hadn’t thought about the reality, that there was no possible way you’d be able to handle reading everything that Harry had to say about you.

“Done already?” Harry’s voice startled you, not having heard him rejoin you in the kitchen. You quickly blinked your eyes, knowing there was no possible way to hide the fact that you had been crying but you hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“No, I –” you cleared your throat lightly, turning around to look at him. You didn’t know what to say to him.

You watched his eyes scan your face, expression softening slightly before offering you a small smile. You assumed the whites of your eyes were reddened, and the skin surrounding was damp and still shiny from the little spill of tears.

He didn’t ask you anything else, and instead grabbed a pot from where it sat cleaned next to the sink and brought it over to the stove. “Do you want to chop the vegetables?”

Nodding with a murmured agreement, he handed you what needed to be cut along with a cutting board and a knife. You were grateful that he glossed over the topic, and now you found yourself biting back a smile. Spending time with him in such a mundane way was comforting. He put on some music, a soft background song playing while you both started to cook in a smooth harmony.

Conversation was light. He asked how living with Eloise was, you asked how long he had been in town for.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting across from each other with steaming bowls of soup and warmed bread, each having poured a generous amount of wine into your glasses that conversation got a bit heavier.

It started when you asked if he had been out to the lake yet, even though the cold weather obviously meant swimming wasn’t much of an offer.

It ended, however, with a heavy silence when you both started to recall the last trip to the lake. Nearly a full year ago now, it was the second day of March and your last weekend away in this undisturbed paradise. The air was still very much crisp and carried a winter bite, and on a barely warm night, the two of you had the terrible idea of taking a little night dip.

After about thirty seconds in the cold water, you couldn’t bear it and had to step out into the even colder air. After shivering back to your rental, you had drawn a burning hot bath to enjoy together and both decided that you would come back during the summer months to fully benefit from the lake and hikes.

But then you weren’t together over the summer.

Harry had immediately noticed your change in demeanor at the bittersweet reminder of the memory, silently cursing himself for bringing the conversation that way. He had hoped that it would maybe spark something in you, some kind or romantic nostalgia, but instead it seemed to just upset you.

A crushing silence had fallen again, and at least you had dinner to distract yourself with. Harry instead decided to change the conversation again, asking if Eloise still had those two little grumpy cats, and if you were enjoying staying with them.

You were lightheartedly laughing again by the time you were clearing the dishes, both the wine and Harry helping in the warm feeling under your skin. Your cheeks had been rounded with a smile and your mind a bit fuzzy, intoxicated not as much by the liquor but more so by the loving feeling around you.

It was quiet when you came back to the rental outside of town, the tiles of the floor cold under your feet after you had peeled your socks off. The rain had only increased in your short trip out to the nearby Monoprix, picking up what you needed to make a nice hearty soup for dinner as well as a bottle of wine.

After getting far too wet on the walk you had gone on during the afternoon, initially wanting to go hiking but the weather got in the way. Harry had stuck back while you grabbed your groceries and a fresh baguette as you had finished off the one you had during breakfast.

Hanging up your damp coat and taking off your too itchy sweater, you called out Harry’s name after placing the groceries down on the counter of the little kitchenette.

A faint reply was heard, as you followed the sound of his voice to the closed bathroom door. He told you to come in, and you were met with a warm steamy bathroom and your partner relaxing into the back of the tub.

“Didn’t feel like a shower,” he murmured as you smiled down at him, eyeing over the bubbles that covered the surface of the water.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his in a quick greeting as he extended his neck out towards you. “It’s still dreadful out - you have the right idea taking a bath.”

You sat down on the edge of the tub, feet flat on the tile of the washroom floor as your upper body twisted to gaze down at Harry. The weeks so far spent in the small French town were like taking a break from reality - time was still and you could spend all the time you wanted wrapped up in each other.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wet hand raising from under the water to grab at your wrist. Pulling it towards him, he pressed a light kiss over your pulse point. You let your hand fall over his shoulder when he let go, when he instead decided he wanted to feel your lips on his again.

You easily complied, bending lower once more to slot your mouth over his with a lingering touch as he sighed over you. “Lips are cold.”

You chuckled an apology, shifting yourself closer to him as you still balanced on the ledge of the tub. Your hand wrapped around his neck, feeling the damp strands between your fingers as one of his hands grabbed a light hold of your arm. He traced a pattern over your bare arm, before shifting his arm around to the small of your back.

You remained like that for a moment, sharing sweet kisses laced with soft affirmations of affection, hands not wandering further from light grasps over each other’s bodies.

Though at a sudden move, a not so light move, an unattractive squeal left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked a hand under your bent knees and gripped you firmly, pulling you over the edge of the tub and into the water with him. You giggled his name after recovering from the initial shock, the heat of the water a sharp contrast to the chill in your bones and the sudden movement had your head spinning just the slightest bit.

You surprisingly didn’t mind all that much – in fact you didn’t mind at all. Wet clothes could be dried, and the way he held you so tightly and gazed down at you so lovingly you didn’t even realize that you were fully dressed in the bathtub.

Harry held you tightly, your legs now resting over him with his arm still under your knees as you found your place in his lap.

“My clothes are all wet,” you bit your bottom lip down, eyes catching Harry’s with a gleam as you rested your cheek against his chest. You looped your arm tighter around him, easily supported against his frame. “Could’ve given me a little warning.”

“Thought you liked spontaneity,” his mouth sought out yours again, this time landing a peck just over your cupid's bow. “And you just seemed so cold.”

You laughed over him and he pulled you even closer, as the water seeped through your clothes. You lifted your upper body a bit, not minding the way your shirt clung to your body as you brought your other hand to graze along the top of his cheek. “Really missed you.”

“Wasn’t gone that long,” you whispered. “Picked up some more bread - the woman at the bakery recognized me.”

You could feel the hum from his chest before you heard it, as he stole another quick peck from your lips. “Becoming a true local, aren’t you?”

“Guess I am,” you mindlessly trailed your fingertips over his features, tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke.

There was a small pause, a quiet comfortable silence. “What d’you say we stay a little longer?”

You didn’t really need to think about the offer that much. “How much longer?”

Harry shrugged, although knowing you both had responsibilities that were eventually needed to go back to. “Maybe a few more weeks?”

“I’d love that,” you pressed your lips to his, knowing that you’d eventually work out the details later.

He muttered something against your mouth, something you couldn’t quite catch as he returned your kiss. His hands wandered under your shirt, quickly pulling the soaking material from your body and throwing it with a wet slap to the tiled floor. Another problem to be dealt with later.

Your lips parted as his tongue grazed over yours, a soft hitting of teeth when you tried to reposition yourself over him. His lips slid down your chin and your jaw as you brought your legs to straddle him, the growing uncomfortable heavy corduroy of your pants needing to be the next thing to be taken off.

A soft curse escaped your lips both at the feeling of your lover’s hands on you and at the cool air, when he tugged your bralette over your head and again threw it somewhere to be immediately forgotten. His hands cupped your breasts, warm and wet and pulling deliciously at your nipples while his mouth sucked over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Help me get outta these,” you whispered into the air, one of your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your trousers while you held onto him for support.

After much moving around – splashing water, and slipping over the smooth bottom of the tub – the heavy material was tugged off your legs and thrown over the edge of the tub. Finally feeling his skin completely against yours, you repositioned yourself over his lap with a leg on either side of his as your mouths met.

You sank into his arms as he whimpered your name, holding you tightly around your hips. One of his hands wandered lower, brushing lightly over your underwear covered heat.

You were both incredibly hot - from the water and from the increasing tension - as you blindly grabbed at each other in quick desperation.

Your hips pressed over his, while his lips were wandering over the damp exposed skin of your chest, and he moaned lowly against you, “love you close - love you everywhere.”

He raised his swollen mouth from your skin, pressing his words over your mouth. “Gonna spend the rest of my life with you like this.”

“You should stay the night.”

You turned your head towards Harry from where you were carrying over the stack of dishes. “What?”

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” he motioned to the closed window. “And it's getting late. Better idea for you to stay tonight.”

You only stared at him with your mouth slightly parted as if to speak, but didn’t know what to say. You figured that you hadn’t really thought this through, and it wasn’t completely crazy that it was a better idea to wait out the night out here with Harry.

“Not stay the night stay the night,” he continued, easily noticing the little lift in your lips.

“So it was only ever about the writing then?” The teasing tone in your voice was evident, though Harry couldn’t help the way his heart skipped at the possibility of you wanting to be here with him just as much as he wanted you.

“I think it’s always good to hold out some hope.” He answered, watching your eyes linger on him for a moment longer before glancing away with a small chuckle.

“I know you’re right,” you hummed, turning on the tap to begin washing the small load that needed to be done.

“About holding out hope or staying over?”

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched him approach you from the corner of your eye before answering. “Both.”

He tried his best to hide his smile when he joined your side by the sink, each settling in without much discussion of you as the washer of the dishes and him as the dryer. “So you’ll stay?”

You didn’t think about it too much. “I might need a shower,” you started, keeping your eyes on the soapy water that you pulled a ladle out of. “And to borrow some things.”

“Still have the same face cream,” his hip bumped yours – almost so lightly it could’ve just been him readjusting his feet. ”Welcome to anything you’d like, always are.”

This time it was obvious that it was on purpose. Not so much of a bump but a nudge, a slow one as he leaned his body closer to yours and rested against you for a brief second.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said lightly as your agreement, trying not to think too much about sharing a bed with your ex.

The quiet that came when you worked through the dishes together didn’t last all that long before Harry asked.

“Been seeing anyone?”

You glanced at him briefly. A cheek was half lifted, the hints of a smirk forming on his lips as he eyed you.

“Why’re you asking?” You countered, the answer to the question obvious.

“Why do you think,” he let out a chuckle, although was unable to help but feel a little anxious at the answer to the question, especially in your silence.

“There was one,” you spoke slowly. “A friend set it up – a double date. Saw him one more time after and that was it.”

“That was it?” Harry repeated your words, clearly looking for more of an explanation.

“Haven’t seen him again,” you turned off the tap, wiping your hands on the dish cloth hanging off a hook before facing Harry. “And you?”

“Twice,” he said – if you were going to be honest so was he. “Different person each time.”

“Busy boy,” you mused, trying not to wonder how long after you split it had been, or how recently.

His smirk had died down, meeting your eyes earnestly. “Never saw either again. You're a hard one to get over.”

His words hit you hard in the chest, like a little stab of a knife deep and sharp. He had spoken lightly, but you didn’t miss the slight clipped tone of his voice.

“Did anything… happen with the guy?” He asked immediately after, not giving you much of a chance to react to his confession.

You only bit your bottom lip down, holding your mouth shut. The soft lights from above seemed like they had dimmed, the space around you feeling smaller and more intimate.

He took your silence as the answer, a pit of jealousy building at the mere thought of someone else's hands on you.

“Just a kiss,” you told him, barely able to recall the short end of date kiss shared between you and the man you hadn’t even thought about. “On the second date.”

Harry only hummed, arms crossing over his chest as he leant his hip against the counter. The dishes were nearly done and long forgotten by now.

“D’you wanna see him again?”

“Harry –”

“If you haven’t seen him since then it doesn’t sound that way,” he mused, cutting you off with his petty rambling. “Especially now that you’ve come here.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what?” His tone was quiet, but as you looked up to see him again his eyes held something more, begging for your attention.

“I just wanted –” Stopping yourself, you couldn’t continue. I just wanted to stop thinking about you. Instead, you spoke a quiet “I don’t know.”

A heavy silence surrounded you for the millionth time that day. It had only been a few hours since you’d run into each other, since he’d invited you up and you’d easily agreed. You only looked away from him when his touch was felt over you, glancing down at the hand landing over yours on the counter, resting his palm over your knuckles.

His thumb softly brushed the skin. “Why did you come here?”

Harry couldn’t help but ask you again. He knew why he had come here, and he had a growing suspicion that you had come for the same reason – you were both just too stubborn to say anything.

“I told you, Eloise offered –”

“You could’ve gone anywhere though, I didn’t even know you were close with her.” Harry again, couldn’t help it.

You knew very well what he wanted to hear.

After a moment in silence, he spoke quietly and earnestly. “Did you miss us?”

You had to look away. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, able to hear the heavy swallow in his throat before he spoke once more. “Did you miss me?”

You watched his hand lightly rest over yours, the way neither of you moved but once and a while there would be a small flinch or twitch of muscle as if the need to grab onto the other rested right below the surface.

“Of course I did,” his hand held yours a little tighter when you spoke. “We were good.”

“We were,” Harry repeated, quietly pondering on the past tense of the sentiment.

The decision to invite you up had been innocent at first, or so he wanted to tell himself that, but having you here with him was something he’d never thought to experience again. He asked you the same question once more. “Is that why you came here?”

Daring a few more steps towards you, the hand that was not over yours raised to brush its knuckles under your cheek, before grabbing a hold of your jaw. You were watching him closely, needing to swallow a thick gulp of air when he neared you.

Deciding not to answer him, as you both seemed to be aware of the true answer, you avoided the question entirely. “Is that why you came?”

You dropped your eyes down to his mouth when the corners of it quirked up, quickly looking back up to his eyes, almost hoping that he would avoid truly answering just as you had.

“It is, yeah.”

His earnestness shouldn’t have surprised you. You felt his words before you even processed them, momentarily reveling in your closeness. You were sure you were going to start crying again if he didn’t say anything else.

“Remember last time we were here,” Harry said, again quickly changing the subject. His hand that rested over yours moved up, sliding over the bare skin of your wrist before looping around to hold the counter behind you. Keeping himself impossibly close, he kept speaking at your nod. “Remember one of the first nights, in the park by the lake, the dancing, what was that called?”

“Bal musette,” you said without having to think about it all that much .

“Yeah,” his lips curved to a wider smile at the memory. “All the men wanted to dance with you.”

“They were all in their eighties,” you hummed, letting yourself lean into his touch over your cheek.

“Still,” he grinned. “We were good.”

You remembered the cool air, not quite spring yet but the ends of winter were apparent. Harry had held you close, he always did. It had been an evening of uncontrollable laughs, interlocked hands, and stumbling home in a rush. The late dinners, the indulgence in delicious chocolates, the walks by the lake; it was all too good. The entire time really, was a blissful month.

You knew it, you both knew it. Right now, neither of you could even remember what had led to a break up in the first place.

He was all around you, his arms keeping you in while the tip of his nose nudged your cheek and his face grew closer to yours. There was only a soft orange glow in the room, hitting off the top of his features in a way that drew you in. So close he became a blur to you, something you hadn’t experienced in nearly a year.

But it was when he tilted his chin down that you processed what he was about to do, that you let your head fall to the side in a quick move to avoid his kiss, only a brush of his cheek over your jaw being felt.

Harry let himself fall forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he let out a quiet chuckle into the crook of your neck. Neither of you moved from where you were, still standing pressed to one another with his chest pushing against yours and his arms on either side of you.

Moving your head back, you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that blew through your nose, not doubt tickling the skin of his neck.

“What was that,” you hummed quietly.

He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing over the skin of your neck. “Sorry,” he spoke, although he didn’t mean the apology all that much. He had wanted to kiss you; he still does. “Felt right.”

It was overwhelming, being close and personal with you once more. Harry moved his nose to the column of your neck, smelling the familiar comfort of the perfume that lingered on you.

“Felt right,” he repeated, voice muffled from his mouth resting over your neck. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head again, this time not to avoid his touch but to allow more space along your neck as he pressed the lightest of touches onto the sensitive skin. “Didn’t it?”

He also didn’t miss the soft hitch in your throat, breath getting caught when he let his lips linger. Getting lost in you for a moment, when you lifted a hand to his shoulder, and wrapped your arm around him in a desire to keep him close. His lips pressed harder, parting to allow a quick lick of his tongue over the familiar skin. You sighed softly above him, feeling everything at once in a breathtaking moment.

But then you found your breath again, and spoke his name quietly before shifting away from him. “Harry –”

“I know-”

He sighed, a deep pull of air through his lungs when he pulled away from you. Just enough to meet your bewildered eyes, just enough that he could see every detail on your face without having them blur. “Let’s get to sleep, yeah?”

You only nodded, peering into his eyes as if it would help you read his mind. His gaze flickered away from yours, falling to the spot of floor between your feet before willing himself to move away from you. “We’ll feel better in the morning.”

You had no idea what he meant at all, but only watched him walk away from where he had just been. The quiet music that had still been playing was abruptly turned off, the lack of sound making the rapid beating of your heart that much louder. Taking a minute for yourself, you slowly followed him out of the kitchen.

“D’you mind if I shower?” Your voice sounded foreign to yourself, after an uncomfortable silence settled in the apartment.

“Go ahead,” his voice was distant, and you simply made your way to the washroom for a quick shower before likely not getting any sleep through the night.

Seeing the array of his toiletries laid out over the countertop was once more far too familiar, most of them being the same ones you had seen nearly everyday. Helping yourself to them since you were here for the night, you did your best to scrub off what makeup you had one before getting into the shower.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice suddenly invaded your senses, as he nudged the door open just as you were about to pull your sweater up over your head, hand stuck halfway up your chest.

Immediately dropping your hand back down as the knit fell back over your body, you saw Harry's eyes raise up to yours through the mirror. “Sorry,” he spoke quietly. “Just bringing you some clothes that you can sleep in.”

“Thank you,” you only looked at him through the mirror, watching as his eyes fell back down to where your hands were still holding your sweater by your hips.

Another moment too long passed with neither moving or saying anything, and just as you parted your lips to say anything, Harry cleared his throat. “I know, I know.”

He sighed, as if you had been about to scold him for lingering again and shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone once more.

You showered as quickly as you could, washing your body and keeping your hair out of the water. You tried your best not to think about the way Harry’s eyes had slowly dragged over your body, even your sweater covered one. You tried not to think about the way he smelt the same, or the way his hands felt so good around you and the way he had wanted to kiss you. Or the way his lips felt so familiar over your neck, that if you hadn’t stopped him there might not be a wall separating the both of your right now.

And it didn’t get better when you came around the corner dressed in his clothes, sweats bunching at your ankles and the crewneck looking warm around you. You shot him a nervous smile from where he was already in bed, placing your belongings next to the bag you had on the floor, before turning back to glance at Harry.

“Well come on in,” he smiled, trying not to let his gaze linger on you for too long and lifted the corner of the duvet up on the other side of the mattress. With the sleeves of the crewneck pulled over your palms, you tentatively slid in on the bed, trying your best to maintain as much distance as you possibly could.

Harry turned off his phone, placing it on the table next to him before leaning over to shut off the only source of light.

You rested on your side, daring to face Harry as you hugged the pillow under your cheek. “It was a nice surprise seeing you today,” you started, not wanting to go to sleep on an awkward note.

He faced you when you spoke, mirroring your position from the other side of the mattress. “What are the odds that we both came back here,” he posed it less of a question, more as a quiet wondering. “Would never have thought -”

Humming in response, you didn’t know what the odds were really. Must have been pretty low, and the fact that you were both here and now found yourselves sharing a bed was not at all where you thought you’d end up when you got up this morning.

He turned from his side to his back, looking away from you and instead chose to stare up at the ceiling. The urge to be close to you was strong, and it felt incredibly odd to not be near you as you both went to sleep together.

“Goodnight,” you spoke quietly. You shuffled down the mattress and rested your head over the pillow. There was no way you were going to sleep tonight.

“’Night,” Harry hummed from the other side of the bed, lying just as stiff as you were.

You rolled onto your side with your back to the man you couldn’t believe you were sharing a bed with once more. You begged your mind to turn off, to let sleep take over your body so that it could be morning, and maybe everything would make sense in the morning.

But instead your mind wandered to every possible thought regarding Harry, and you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Trying your damn hardest not to pay attention to Harry’s breathing, or his own shuffles on the bed.

You didn’t know how long it had been, but you were starting to grow hot. Sticking a leg out from under the covers didn’t help much, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry – about how you felt with him, about how he made you feel when you had been together. In and out of the bedroom.

Rolling onto your stomach for the thousandth time, hoping Harry was asleep so he hadn’t been hearing your constant shuffling, you squeezed your thighs together and cursed yourself for thinking what you were while lying in a bed with your ex. Wasn’t so much arousal, but just… neediness.

Not only could you not stop thinking about every touch you shared, the linger of his hands and his lips, but you couldn’t take your mind off of every single word you read in his old notebooks. It was haunting you nearly, an old ghost that was sitting on your chest and leaving you heavy hearted.

It was when you rolled from your stomach to your back again with a quiet sigh, that Harry muttered against his pillow with a low voice, “stop movin’ around.”

Slightly embarrassed that he had obviously been awake the entire time as well, you rolled your head to the side to see him over the space of the middle of the mattress. “Sorry – can’t sleep.”

He did the same, turning his head so that your eyes could meet in the nearly completely dark room. “Me neither.”

You simply looked at each other for a moment, trying to let yourself relax enough so that you could eventually drift to sleep before Harry spoke again. “It feels odd, doesn’t it? Sleeping but not being close.”

You nodded, realizing he couldn’t really see your movement before speaking. “Yeah – I can’t relax.”

This time there was no pause between words. “Come here,” Harry said quickly.

“What?”

He shuffled closer to the middle, closer towards you. “Friends can cuddle, can’t they? Just – come here.”

You didn’t think too much of the offer..

You moved away from the very edge of the bed, closer to where Harry layed. He extended an arm out, wrapping it around your shoulders as you came closer and pulled you in to lay next to his chest. Tentatively raising your hand, you laid it flat over his chest before sliding it around him as you hugged him from the side.

It felt nice – normal even, being in his arms. He let out another sigh, murmuring a quiet “goodnight” before settling back down into the mattress.

You felt his hand fall lightly over your shoulder, fingertips brushing on the fabric of the borrowed jumper. You were hyper focused on your breathing, trying your best to steady it in a lame attempt of getting your heartbeat to calm down. But when you realized Harry’s heart was beating just as fast, you relaxed even more against him.

Sleep came slowly, but it eventually did come. At one point Harry moved positions, just the slightest bit, but just enough that he was able to push a leg against yours. Slowly moving your own legs, you let him rest his calf over yours with the small tangle of your legs. That was the last thing either of you remembered before falling asleep.

The morning held a bit more tension.

Harry woke up before you, and spent far too long contemplating on whether he should get up or not. So long, in fact, that you had woken up and made the decision for him. While he feigned being asleep, you quietly shuffled out from under the covers.

Following the sound of your footsteps to the washroom, he heard the door close behind you and the quiet hum of the tap after a moment. He wondered if you would leave immediately.

Getting out of bed himself, he first went to go adjust the thermostat as the air was far too cold after being out of the cozy warmth of the bed, and went to go turn on the kettle.

You were by his side moments later, each sharing quiet “good mornings” while he tried not to stare at the way your eyelids still drooped down and the way you pulled the sleeves of his jumper over your hands.

He knew the offer of coffee would get you to stay for a cup, but by the way you had rushed back to the bathroom with your clothes from the day before told him that you weren’t planning on sticking around for too long.

By the time you reappeared by his side, you were dressed just as you had yesterday. He knew he’d find the clothes you’d borrowed folded over his bed. You seemed fresher faced than last time, even catching a whiff of his lavender scented moisturizer that you always used to borrow.

Biting his lips together to hide his smile at the fact you had in fact taken your liberties with his toiletries just as he’d offered, he quietly prepared you a cup of coffee while your attention was drawn down to your phone.

You mindlessly answered texts, none of them that urgent that they required your full attention as you still couldn’t help but pay close attention to Harry’s every move.

“Sleep okay?” He finally broke the silence.

You paused, needing to clear your throat before answering. “I did, yeah.” Only after he had invited you to lay peacefully in his arms. “You?”

“Did as well,” he hummed, filling the two mugs with the wonderful smelling coffee. “A lot better after you stopped moving around.”

“Sorry again,” you suddenly felt hot at his mention of your irritation – at the reminder of how incredibly needy you had gotten for him to even lay a hand over your own. Taking the mug of coffee as a welcomed distraction, you cupped it in two hands to bring it up to your mouth, blowing over the hot liquid.

He dropped the subject, though, as he mirrored your action and you both took a moment to let the coffee stall the inevitable goodbye that was about to be shared.

“What’re you up to today?”

He thought it over for a second, not actually having planned all that much. “Need to grab a few things from the store, otherwise not a whole lot.” He thought aloud. “And you?”

“Driving to Aix-les-Bains with Eloise, some store over there she wants to see.” You had just seen the text from your friend, deciding to not answer all the ones questioning what had happened with Harry.

You both took big sips of the still too hot coffee. “No writing today?”

“Not that I’ve been that successful,” you mumbled into the mug.

“You’ll find it,” he affirmed. “I know you will.”

Your chest warmed, not from the heat of the beverage but from the sincerity of his statement. You hid your face behind your mug, taking a nearly too big sip that you nearly choked on.

“Thanks again, for letting me stay and for… everything.” You placed the mug by your side, the caffeine suddenly making you nauseous. The words you had read in his old notebook still haunted you.

Harry realized that you were about to tell him that you were leaving, and a small bout of panic rose through his stomach. “Of course -”

He watched, dumbfounded of what to say, as you walked from the kitchen to where you had left your belongings and started arranging them in your bag and put your phone into the pocket of your trousers. Harry couldn’t stop watching every small move you made.

His eyes followed you around the kitchen, mind racing to find anything to say to you anything that would at the very least have you coming back to see him.

“Can I see you again?” He suddenly blurted, voice louder than it had been before, making you stop in your movements and turn to face him.

Your mouth parted and for a moment he thought it was forming into a ‘yes’, but it never came. And he didn’t realize that it never came because his attention caught on something else. Something that had been hiding beneath the tight knit of your sweater yesterday, something that he had forced himself to forget about.

He moved without realizing, taking the two small steps needed to stand right next to you. Noticing his sudden action, you turned yourself so that your body faced his with a small crease of confusion forming between your brows.

He couldn’t help it. Reaching out to where the small locket rested below your collarbones, he caught your attention with the small tug of the chain.

Oh.

Remaining quiet, you watched his focus fall to the necklace that had never been taken off. His bottom lip fell with a quiet exclamation, one you couldn’t hear no matter how close you stood. He turned it over in his hand, briefly wondering whether it was too far to open the little locket.

“Couldn’t take it off.” You said, as he remained quiet due to his current fascination.

You both watched as he toyed with the light metal in his fingers. Grazing over the small flat pearl that graced the front of the pendant, seeing it just as he’d last remembered it.

He had once again found himself standing desperately close to you. If he had moved closer while looking at the jewelry, he wasn’t sure. But when he let it fall back against the light purple knit of your sweater to meet your gaze, he realized that he could see every twitch of your eyes when they moved to gaze up at him.

His hand didn’t fall far, landing with a light touch over your wrist just as he had the night before.

“Give me a shot.”

You tilted your chin up, his words settling in with a flip of your stomach. “You said it yourself – we were good.”

“I know,” was all you could muster, the clear confidence in his words making your heart beat a little harder.

“And I’m having a hard time remembering what went wrong,” a humourless laugh shook from his chest, as he kept his eyes focused on the little locket that had been gifted to you nearly a year ago. “And seeing you here, out of all places. I can’t be the only one.”

“I know,” you repeated, very aware of the intense emotion that had been clouding your mind in the past twelve hours. “You’re not the only one.”

He lifted your wrist that he held, gently placing your arm over his shoulder to move in closer to you. You didn’t object, sliding your palm over the crook of his neck. You were unable to help but take a quick look at his mouth, at his lips that hovered so close to yours.

“Give us a shot,” he whispered, breath hitting the inside of your wrist when he titled his chin towards your arm. His lips skimmed the skin, pressing feather light kisses over the inside of your wrist. With the same light pattern of kisses on the inside of your forearm, he moved his lips away to instead focus on your face.

Placing his hand under your jaw, a similar position that you held him in as he seemed to be moving ever so slowly. Tilting his jaw up towards you, he let his lips skim so slightly across your cheek, so light you nearly thought you had imagined it. Just as he had last night, his nose brushed over your own first while he took a moment to savour you.

Waiting for any sign of hesitation on your part, which never came, he let his lips slowly fall over the corner of your mouth. Wet trail of touches that moved away from your lips and instead over to your cheek, he took a moment to hold you against him.

He whispered something over your jaw, you couldn’t hear him. With your eyelids fluttered shut and your head spinning, all your focus was set on what his lips were doing rather than what they were saying.

This time it was you, who slid your hand to the back of his neck with a much firmer grip. It was you that led his mouth to capture yours.

It was just lips on lips at first, a quick kiss that lasted barely a second. You pulled away before he could even have a chance to react, a small smile curving at your lips when you glanced up at him.

His hand slid up your arm to hold a tight grip around your back, while the other circled to the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your skin in soft circles. He pulled you in again, both relaxing into the kiss as his lips eased over yours.

Kissing him was everything good you remembered. The way he gripped you tightly against him, the soft touch of his lips, the way your name was rolling off his tongue in a quiet incredulous breath.

His mouth was warm, inviting, fitting so perfectly over yours as you tentatively parted your own lips to invite him in for more. Your free hand joined the other around his neck, letting his tongue graze against yours as you tasted each other for the first time in nearly a year. It was all the same – like no time had really passed at all.

Feeling his hand circle around your hip, holding you close as a quiet moan rumbled from deep in his chest. You couldn’t help the content sigh at the sound, completely melting into him. He was pressing tight against you, mouth completely capturing yours while your breathing mixed and lips dampened.

Your chins hit awkwardly when you tilted your head to the side and he went to lightly suck over your bottom lip. Though you didn’t mind the slight sting of his chin knocking yours, in fact you found yourself welcoming everything about him.

It wasn’t until you realized you were sharing heavy breaths, and when your lips had been growing more and more desperate for the other that you needed to separate for a quick deep breath of air.

He breathed your name with a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that was easily heard in his voice. “We’re still good.”

Your head was spinning. His head was spinning. Nothing seemed to be real, at the moment but at the same time everything seemed far too real.

Just as he leant in again, searching for your lips once more, you slid your palm down from his shoulder to the center of his chest and pushed yourself back an inch. “Harry…”

You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again, you really did. You just couldn’t bear to think what would come of it – you couldn’t revisit all the pain that you had managed to push away.

He shook his head, not believing you were about to turn him down again. Especially after that. He knew he shouldn’t be upset with you about it, he knew it was completely valid on your end but in this moment he felt like everything was coming crashing once more.

When he heard the quiet and pained tone in your voice, he bit his lip down – his lip that could still feel the whisper of yours – and shook his head in disbelief.

“We shouldn’t.”

A sharp pain came from your chest as Harry seemed to deflate against you. “If you don’t –” he had to look away from your heavy eyes as he spoke. “You can’t kiss me like that and then push me away.”

He was right - of course he was right - but you were so incredibly confused and couldn’t seem to process a single thing that you were feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, neither of you moving. “I didn’t mean to…” you didn’t know what to say, because you really did want to kiss him. You still do. “I’m really sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t be sorry –” he sighed, hands falling from your body.

When he didn’t say anything else, you slowly dragged your palm over your forehead, feeling the sudden tension of the situation manifest in a growing pain in your head. “We can’t keep living in the past.”

He hated himself for the sliver of hope he felt when you said ‘we’.

“We were so fucking good,” he knew he needed to stop entertaining the topic but he really couldn’t help it He knew you saw it too. “We were a team, we were solid. I just don’t know,” he cut himself off, running the back of his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know.”

A thick moment of silence passed – you couldn’t bear it. “It’s too…” you had to take a deep breath as you felt a sob build in your chest. “It’s too painful to go through this again, Harry – this has been the hardest year of my life I can’t –”

You need to cut yourself off, shoulders shaking as you kept your eyes glued to the floor. “I should go.”

#<3 #pls let me know what u think and all as usual ! <33 #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry x reader

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averykedavra · 3 years

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“don’t overthink it” stfu and watch me: an analysis

this card, in the beginning of the episode, sets the tone for this episode. and it makes sense! such an unofficial video, which was very last-minute, doesn’t necessarily need a ton of context. “wherever it would hypothetically make sense” is the place of this episode in the timeline.

thomas told us that, so if we take that at face value, this could possibly take place at any time in the timeline. he also told us not to overthink this. but uh. shut your fuck.

now, of course, this episode couldn’t possibly take place before the crofters episode. and since logan is shown still eating his jam, most people have reasonably assumed that this episode is chronologically right after crofters the musical. it may have been months in real life, but the tss timeline is separate, so it’s reasonable that this could be a post-crofters video.

and what would that mean? crofters the musical was released in april of 2018. deceit had been revealed two episodes prior, but lntao and the svs debacle was far yet to come. at first, this matches the video. it’s just the core four being friends! and they seem to get along a bit better than they would after pof.

but. “whenever it would make sense for this to happen,” as thomas said. does immediately post-crofters the musical really make sense? the more i looked, the more i found that it could be more complicated than that. in fact, i found some evidence that didn’t match up at all.

it’s likely that this all anecdotal evidence that doesn’t matter, and that i’m overanalyzing this and incorrect, but fuck it. it’s not that deep, but i can convince myself it is. here’s why i think this episode wasn’t that early on in the timeline, and my theory on what really happened.

my first hint was the whiteboard. patton doodles on the whiteboard while logan is talking, and it’s adorable, and i made a post listing all the things he draws. lots of puppies, hearts, and cute little smiley faces. and janus, peeking out from the side and saying “boo.”

which does make sense, technically? deceit did exist by crofters the musical. and he’s shown in a very sneaky, negative way, at least to some extent. he’s definitely not holding hands with the others. so that seems to line up. but then:

in one corner is remus, labeled “smelly.”

and that doesn’t add up. because remus hadn’t been introduced yet. remus was not canonically part of tss at this point. so how did patton know about him?

obvious answer is obvious, of course, and it’s that patton could easily know about remus before dwit. all the sides recognize him when he shows up for the first time.

logan: ah. it’s the duke.

of course, it does the beg the question why patton would include two dark sides but not the third, if there is a third, but that’s a realm of pure speculation. things still kinda seem to add up.

but they’re off just enough for me to dig deeper. why would patton, who barely knows janus canonically and long before dwit, include them on the board?

and then i saw this:

that’s a video game controller, drawn in green.

and again. could be a coincidence. but to me, it felt like a nod to the events of pof, with the video game theme and the green marker, a la his frog transformation. add that to remus and janus’ presence on the board? it’s beginning to look a bit more possible that patton knows more than he’s supposed to.

“whenever it would make sense for this to happen.” but it’s making less and less sense for this to happen when i thought it did.

could this video reasonably be after pof? it seems ridiculous, because the sides get along way better than they should after pof. shouldn’t roman and patton be feuding? shouldn’t virgil and patton be more snappish?

except this video, despite the lack of arguing, is extremely confrontational in other ways. they end up yelling by the end! all four of them! and their ideas, while not outright hostile, are still in contrast. more so than it appears at first.

virgil jokingly includes roman in his ad, while roman chooses logan, and logan chooses patton, and patton chooses virgil. virgil isn’t hostile to roman, besides calling him a nerd, and roman genuinely seems interested in talking to logan. but virgil is extremely on edge with patton, especially at the “kid” comparison, and bristles during the whole scene.

and that lines up with their current dynamic! virgil and patton are currently super tense, which started in embarrassing phases after virgil became uncomfortable with patton babying him. patton stopped calling him kiddo after that. embarrassing phases is after crofters the musical.

return of the jam? no use of the word kiddo, and tension when patton treats virgil like his son.

and! and yes, roman and patton don’t argue, but they don’t talk, either. roman doesn’t put patton in his ad. he chooses logan instead. virgil--who is on good terms with roman after pof--talks with roman, and logan works with patton but barely acknowledges him, acting like he wants to impress patton. these dynamics fit easily into the post-pof situation, or at least, a reasonable imagined consequence.

and.

roman: how does it feel to want?

a joke, maybe, a throwaway line. but it makes me think.

janus: everything has a purpose. and you're denying yours. you want that callback so bad, and it will crush you if we miss it.

selfishness versus selflessness.

thomas: i want to go to the callback... and now i want to lie to my friends, so they don't hate me for not supporting them. i’m a liar.

selfishness versus selflessness again.

thomas: i don’t know when i’m going to know what i want again.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: i so, so badly want this. i’m desperate for it.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: you wanted to go to that callback more than you wanted to support your friends. the blame falls to me. if you are missing that do-gooder drive, i think it's because i'm in the driver's seat. and i'm an awful driver.

putting others first.

and, uh, i’m pretty sure i see a common thread. roman mentioning “wanting” like that? roman being so focused, in the jam episode, on “giving the people what they want?” roman consumed by this narrative of give and take? roman in a car?

okay, the last one’s a stretch, but my point still stands! this fits into roman’s characterization! this episode could have been after putting others first!

and then that begs the question: where’s janus? if him and patton are friends in-timeline, why isn’t he here? well, i made a post awhile back about the sunflowers and quote in patton’s house, which i chose to believe meant it was janus’ house.

and yeah, it’s a ridiculous theory, but also? if this is post-pof, it would actually make sense for patton to be in janus’ room. or to subconsciously put reminders of janus around him. the ads are about what they want, right? what they’re comfortable with? if patton and janus are friends now, or at least on better terms, it makes sense that patton would include a hint or two of janus in his ideal scenario.

oh, and there’s one more drawing on the whiteboard i want to point out. as patton is rushing to scribble down logan’s words, more doodles are added to the whiteboard. including this:

of course, it’s hard to tell, but to me that looks like a face with swirling eyes. drawn in yellow. and maybe it’s just representing patton’s overwhelmed feelings--but maybe it references something else entirely.

my first thought? it reminds me of hypnosis or mind control. and if it’s referring to janus controlling patton, why would patton draw that? except: this is the imagination. maybe patton doesn’t control everything. maybe roman does.

roman, who after the events of pof, could reasonably believe that janus manipulated or controlled patton.

and the yellow eyes aren’t the only hint at janus! an interesting thing throughout the whole video? everyone’s extremely blunt. i can’t name a single time someone blatantly lied in the whole video. and yes, it’s super short and fluffy, but that’s still notable! the closest thing to a lie? logan’s line near the end.

patton: we have to say the thing!

thomas: oh! yes, we do! Logan?

logan: i don’t even know what you’re talking--crofters. the only jelly i will put in my belly.

cute moment, right? but logan starts to lie, then cuts himself off before he finishes the lie. like he doesn’t want someone to hear, or he isn’t allowed to lie. throughout the whole video, no one ever completes a lie.

“but,” i hear you cry, “isn’t the whole thing technically a lie? since they’re creating false realities?” well, yes, and also no. to use the series’ definition, acting is not lying, because everyone involved knows that it is a false story. this episode mirrored the am i original episode, in which creating scenarios fell under the realm of “brainstorming.”

which, again, was canonically roman’s idea. and roman’s power to do.

roman: i ask you this, thomas: allow me the chance to really prove myself! grant me full creative control!

thomas: you're my creativity. you have all the creative control.

virgil: no, he’s talking about full-on daydream mode.

the crofters episode is extremely similar to daydream mode. @limitededitionsanderssidesblog even pointed out that roman is the only side who has no animated transition between his ad and the others, showing that he is in more control of the imagination than the others are.

except logan begins the daydream sequence, not roman.

roman even acts upset about this later on, when he takes control of the brainstorm to try his own advertisement. “i’ll show you how it’s done,” he tells virgil, “like i was meant to from the start.” why was he meant to create an advertisement from the start? and then, why didn’t he? why didn’t roman start the imagination sequence?

or maybe he did, and we just didn’t realize.

every conversation the sides have with thomas is, in actuality, imaginary. thomas is sitting on his couch with his eyes closed, like janus pointed out. so there’s a certain level of suspension of disbelief that every episode starts out with. they conjure stuff, create scenarios, interject in the shape of text boxes--you just have to get used to it.

but there are these small details, if you look closely and discount the imagination factor, that don’t add up.

logan starts out the episode eating a jar of crofters jam. (disgustingly, i might add. my man cannot eat jam correctly.) he eats almost the whole thing, then shows up in the next frame with another jar of jam, uneaten.

as logan talks, patton scribbles on the board and tries to write things down. the whiteboard, like i said earlier, gains a few doodles as he continues. we don’t see him pause to doodle at all. we barely see most of the colored markers that he’s used. and he starts with a doodle-covered whiteboard, despite the ad only just starting, but seems to write everything by hand.

nobody is driving roman’s car. it backs up when roman wants it to, and accelerates when he wants it to, but he isn’t the driver.

virgil is relaxed, but he has deep, deep eyeshadow.

logan is excited when there will be more logansberry, but he just finished eating some, and he can summon more. it’s reasonable for him to be excited, but the chronology falls apart if this is close to crofters the musical.

everyone knows what everyone else did in their ad. thomas is aware of everything, but is able to call crofters and negotiate with them while not paying attention. all the sides change the scene at will. in am i original, they all participated at once, and only roman could change it back.

thomas calls crofters in like three minutes and confirms the offer. he doesn’t show up in the imaginary ads. he doesn’t try to stop them from arguing. it almost feels like he doesn’t exist at all.

and on their own, each of these can be easily explained. together, well, they probably can still be explained. but. these little inconsistencies fueled my growing theory.

this episode takes place “whenever it would make sense for it to happen.” it’s after crofters the musical, except it might not be. it’s an am-i-original-style brainstorm, except it doesn’t work the same. all the sides are friends, except they aren’t.

“whenever it would make sense for it to happen”? well, what if it didn’t happen at all?

there are so many little inconsistencies in the timeline. there are so many odd background details. there are so many questions, because if we don’t take this fluffy unimportant video at face value, it becomes harder and harder to understand it. it’s a short ad for jam. and in-universe, it makes no sense.

except it’s an exploration of imagination. it’s roman’s world. and roman, the brainstormer, the creative side, can make anything look like it really happened.

patton: you try to come up with a perfect commercial when you’ve got an extreme teen to deal with.

virgil: pat, none of that was real.

what if roman made the scenario up from the start? what if roman never had to start or end the imaginary segments because all of it was imaginary? because he was in control the whole time?

this episode makes the most sense after pof. roman may have placed swirly eyes on patton’s whiteboard. roman wanted his own jam. roman wanted a comforting, happy scenario, where all his friends got along and liked him. roman has control over the imagination.

but why would roman drag the other sides into it? they aren’t all fake, since they interact without roman there--right?

characterization is a tricky, tricky thing. and to me, none of the sides acted extremely out of character. but patton disagrees vocally with logan, logan is dorky and excited, and virgil is so confident that he reminds me of roman in points. none of those are ooc necessarily. but they’re interesting.

and this entire episode is wish fulfillment for roman, in a way. it’s all about putting up appearances. it’s about doing what the people want and making them like you. it’s about an almost too perfect video where everything ends up fine even when things slip out of control in the middle.

don’t you think that would be roman’s perfect refuge? his own jam, his own ad, and even when the sides irritate him, it all comes back to him in the end. no consequences. just roman, on his own.

because fuck it. what if roman imagined the whole fucking thing?

“whenever it would hypothetically make sense for what’s about to happen, to happen.” the episode itself comes with a justification. it isn’t really canon compliant. it doesn’t fit with the timeline. but it has echoes, echoes of the world and the universe it’s trying to forget about.

roman gets so frustrated when the other sides mess things up. he was meant to take control from the start, he says. the episode ends suddenly. the episode is short and sweet and, in a way, too good to be true.

it’s not hard to imagine roman retreating to a fake scenario after pof. going full brainstorm mode with imitations of his friends and giving himself everything he’s wanted. and i think it’s sweet and sad that he didn’t just give himself a jam. he gave all of them a jam. he made a world where all his friends were happy.

a world where all his friends were happy with him.

and i know this is basically the plot of all i want is serenity. but shut your fuck. i make canon and canon is mine for the taking.

it’s a wild theory. it’s probably not true. but given all the strange contradictions and deeper implications of this episode, it’s at least a theory i can back up with evidence. i can convince myself of it, and that’s good enough for me.

the return of the jam doesn’t take place in canon, in or out of the tss universe. it’s a fluffy side adventure in roman’s head, where he keeps everyone from lying and tones down the fighting and makes up a video where he gets what he wants. roman doesn’t need to start or end each scene. he’s directing the whole fucking play.

and where does he end up at the end of the episode? unconscious on the floor, smiling to himself, saying that he’s got his own jam.

it’s almost an identical position to dwit, when remus knocked him out. and based on roman’s sleep-talking, we know while he was unconscious, he dreamed. he can make things up in his own head. he can indulge in a fantasy or two. he can create detailed, personal brainstorms that nonetheless fall flat in important, logical ways.

i’m not saying that roman did make this whole episode as a comfort after pof. i’m not saying that he did imagine a scenario where he finally got his own jam. i’m not saying that he did imagine his friends happy, joking, and supportive. and i’m not saying that he did fail to fully imagine that, because he lost control, because he couldn’t convince himself.

i’m not saying any of that.

but i’m saying it’s a pretty fun possibility.

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

Season Of The Witch

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, honestly i think that’s it. Just soft boy Bucky.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this one. Little bit of a witchy- halloween vibe for ya guys… Honestly I’m really in love with this idea, so who knows- if you like it I might write a part 2!

Huge Thank you to @cutie1365 for editing this mess! Couldnt have done it without her!

“Okay, okay. What colour am I thinking of now.” Peter squealed, plopping himself down on your bed, staring at you like a kid on christmas.

Being the Avengers personal psychic has its benefits, but this was certainly not one of them. You thought your party-trick of a superpower would have grown old on your friends, and yet it always seemed to draw a crowd of non-believers. You weren't the toughest or the strongest by any means, but you sure knew your way around a person's thoughts, which proved to be an advantage to the team. Mostly you were in charge of recon, but that didn't stop Natasha from dragging you to the gym every weekend and torturing you with super hero level workouts.

“How many more times are we going to do this, Peter?” You sighed, but soon realised he wasnt caving. “Blue. Just like last time it was orange and the time before that thirteen. Can we please stop.”

Peter scanned you over for a moment, before relaxing back on your headboard.

Fine, but only because Mr. Stark said he was ordering Chinese and it's probably here by now. His voice echoed through your mind.

“Actually, I heard Wanda say he’s getting pizza.” You corrected.

“How did you-?” He paused, eyes agape as your words registered. “That is seriously cool, you know that? I mean, I hang from the walls but that- that is cool! I can see why they coined you The Witch now,” Peter playfully shouted. “Can you do that with anyone, at any time?”

You smiled sheepishly, remembering the times your wandering mind had gotten you in some pretty uncomfortable situations. You tried your very best to stay out of your friends heads, but sometimes that was easier said than done. Especially when it came to the former Hydra assassin. His thoughts seemed to creep into your mind, seeping through the cracks unbidden. Sometimes his mind would wander aimlessly, but that wasn't always the case. You knew about Bucky’s dark past, however hearing it in his own cruel words was something else entirely. Though he would never utter the words allowed they were seared into your mind. You had every sense to avoid the man and yet his voice, like gravel and smoke, drew you in, intoxicated on his every word as it clouded around your subconscious.

“Unfortunately” You sighed, easing back into the mattress and unconsciously biting at the corner of your mouth. Your gift didnt make you very popular when you were younger. You were honestly surprised it was so welcomed here. Most people consider you an invasion of privacy... But Peter was different from the highschool kids you grew up with. Maybe it was due to the fact he was different too, but something about the way his mind wandered made you believe that radio-active spider or not, Peter would always be Peter.

“What does Bucky think about?”

That knocked you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up and looked at Peter, who only seemed to have a curious look in his eyes.

He’s so broody and mysterious. Guy gives me the creeps.

“Bucky is a sweetheart deep down.” You faked a smile, concerned as to why you felt the need to defend him. From an outside perspective, it was possible to fear the former Winter Soldier. However, knowing what you did haunted your nerves.

“I’m sure very, very deep down.” Peter chuckled. “I’m going to go grab some pizza before Sam eats it all. Are you coming?”

You smiled softly, preparing yourself for the dinner with your friends. Though you enjoyed having a sort of family, dinners together would often grow overwhelming in your mind, voices colliding though your head, brewing into a storm in your thoughts.

“I’ll be down in a few.” With that, Peter stumbled out of your room and down the hallway leaving you with your thoughts. You closed your eyes, concentrating on the many different voices faintly echoing around you. You could only make out bits and pieces as they vibrated through the walls and all around you. At first, it was hard to identify whose voice belonged to who, but soon after you moved into the compound it became easy.

Natasha thought in poems. Her brain was always working on the next solution- the next verse. Her mind wandered in and out of trains of thought like a dancer, drifting back and forth with ease. It was always relaxing listening in.

Tony was constantly listening to his music wherever he went. You had an inkling it was because he knew how powerful you were. ‘Like built-in surveillance,’ he’d often say. Though, you’d never deflate his ego in letting him know you could still hear his thoughts clear as day.

But then there was Bucky. It took you a while to understand his thoughts. They always seemed erratic and chased- never one thought all at once, but it soon became clear why. Bucky was constantly correcting himself. When his mind began to tiptoe into the darkest corners, he’d change the conversation, ushering it back to what he thought was right. Listening to his internal debates became a favourite pastime of yours. He often reminisced about his time in the forties. You liked how easy it was, listening to him think. Though you had never said more than five words to him allowed, you were content with this little part of him. Pieces only you both knew. Like the beautiful woman he would lose himself daydreaming about. The way he described her made you feel flush all over. He never thought her name, and yet it stung all the more knowing his heart was stolen. His beautiful ‘ведьма’. Not that you stood a fighting chance. Not to mention the impending age gape you both shared. Often he would find you staring and a string of curses would follow as he realised he’d be caught. You never meant to intrude, but then again, that wasn't entirely true.

With a huff, you swung your legs off the bed letting your feet hit the cold wooden floors, but before you could even open the door, you heard him. His voice was so loud you almost didn't know if he was speaking aloud or not.

Just do it, you punk. Walk up there and ask her. What’s the worst that could happen?.... She could plunge a knife into your back- no…. She wouldn't do that and you know it. If you ask her, she might say yes… Honestly that might he worse than-

You swing the door open, startling Bucky back a few paces as your eyes might his. Instantly his face blooms with pink as his mind races- his thoughts an incoherent mess.

“Hi Bucky.” You spoke only above a whisper.

“Oh jesus! I didn't know you were right there.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck trying to steady his breathing.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, breaking eye contact and suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “I didn mean to scare you-”

“You don’t- I mean, you didn't scare me.” He chuckled, his mind suddenly blank. “It doesn't matter right now because I, uh… I was wondering if you're coming for dinner.”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, on my way now.” You smiled softly.

“Great,” Bucky grinned, running his hand through his cropped hair and stepping aside. “I can walk with you.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you swung the door shut and began walking side by side with Bucky in heavy silence.

“Know what’s for dinner?” Bucky finally spoke.

“Pizza. Your favourite.” You affirmed, meeting his curious eyes. His strides slowed until he was at a full stop.

“I never told you that.” He pried, looking at your in question.

You froze, suddenly aware of what you had just said. There was nothing more you wanted than to sink into the floor and let the earth swallow you whole.

“Uh,” You nervously laughed, “You must have at some point. Yeah, I remember now, it was-”

“How often do you listen?” he interrupted, making your mouth clamp shut.

You thought about lying, though it didn't seem right. You knew all his secrets and all he asked was this one. Surely you could grant him that even if it cost a punch to the ego.

“All the time,” You started, your eyes never leaving the floor. “I don’t mean to. At least that’s the way it started. I really try to put you guys all on ‘mute’ when we're together, but your voice always comes through. I don't know what it is, but I like the way you think.” You admitted, feeling heat rising from your chest.

“You like the way I think?” He pried, taking a few steps closer to you. You could feel the tension buzzing around the hallway, ricocheting off the walls and exploding all around you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so embarrassed. It's such an invasion of privacy. You must hate me. I promise I won't tell anyone about the things I hear. Especially her.”

“Her?” He chuckled, taking another step toward you leaving only a few tiles between the two of you.

“Ведьма.” You choked out. “You think about her all the time. She sounds beautiful, by the way. I’m sorry, that's overstepping… I just, I’m sorry. Really I’ll just go-”

Before you could turn on your heel and run for the hills, Bucky's hands were around your wrists, holding you still. His eyes were pleading as he opened he opened and shut his mouth trying to find the right words to say.

“For a witch, you sure aren’t very intuitive.” Bucky signed, your eyes finally landing on his. “My beautiful witch, don’t know by now?”

You blinked at him, your mouth suddenly dry and words caught in your throat. Before you could speak, his thoughts broke through the air, tumbling around you.

Are you listening, doll? His voice echoed around you sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded your head, watching as his eyes crinkled up as he a lopsided grin formed on his pink lips.

It’s you. It’s always you. I've tried to stop, trust me. I just can’t seem to shake it.

You almost didn't notice the smile that began to pull at the corners of your mouth as you took in his words. They drifted in the air around you, echoing through your mind as Bucky’s thumbs rubbed circles into your skin.

“Ask me.” You spoke up, a sudden confidence serging through your core. Bucky raised a brow, scanning you over until your words resonated with him.

“Right, of course.” He cleared his throat, letting go of your hands and intertwining his own nervously. “Would you ever consider letting me take you out. To dinner, maybe?”

You bit down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling as you listened to his internal monologue of nerves that followed his question.

“Took you long enough.” You chuckled, watching as his smile lit up the room around you. Before you could stop yourself you closed the distance between you, draping your arms around his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. Bucky froze, but almost as instantly melted into you, his hands finding their home on your hips as he pulled you in. You wanted nothing more than to melt into him but his racing thoughts swirled around you, causing a giggle to fall from your lips.

Holy Shit. Kiss her back, you moron. Oh god she smells so good. What is that? Cinnamon? Citrus? Shit, she's so close to me. Don't panic. Don't panic. Fuck she feels good. Just relax, and- Oh shit. Can you hear me?

You couldn't help but throw your head back, laughter bubbling out of your chest as his thoughts raced through his head.

“I can tell you're going to be a lot of fun, Barnes” You mumbled against his lips.

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A/n: Nervous Bucky is my favourite can you tell? I loved this one, show some love if you felt the same!

@cutie1365 @whateveriwant

@projectcampbell @kalesrebellion

@calwitch @hpandmcu177a

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes reader

799 notes · View notes

yslkook · 3 years

Text

#move the needle (10)

#corporate masterlist summary: you and jungkook go on a date (or two), and work is...work. word count: 10k warnings: cursing, alcohol, smut (fingering, grinding, making out, sex), discussions of mental health a/n: omg lol this chapter really got away from me. enjoy and ty to @cutechim for loving this couple

Your calendar has quickly become overtaken with periodic lunch dates with Hae-Ri. She feels like a friend now, though you are still cautious with crossing professional and personal boundaries with her. But it feels easy with her- to talk about both the workplace and about personal things.

You’ve dubbed it powersuit hour, because you and Hae-Ri had both showed up in sharp powersuits without telling the other. You had wanted to make a good impression on her and it seems that she just lives in powersuits and heels.

You hate tall heels, but you put them on to match her (sometimes). You decide that the blisters and cuts aren’t worth it and opt for a smaller heel, loafers or oxfords.

Not a single hair of Hae-Ri’s is out of place, not a single smudge of lipstick can be found on her lips (even as she eats) and she oozes charm. She makes you want to straighten your back and sit tall (which you normally do, but now you’re just aware of it).

She makes you want more. Well, she’s part of the reason why you want more from life, from work, from yourself.

The thought of returning to school gradually worms its way into your brain more often than usual, but you stamp it away as quickly as it comes. Dr. Lee tells you to embrace it, but you don’t think you’re ready yet. But maybe one day you will be. Dr. Lee tells you that you’re ready for more than you think you are, that you’ve almost allowed yourself everything you’ve subconsciously forbidden yourself from.

Maybe someday you’ll gather the courage to unlock those parts of yourself.

It’s only been several weeks since you had stayed the night at Jungkook’s apartment and had shared your first of many kisses with him. You find yourself daydreaming about his lips, specifically of his kisses and the slip of his tongue in your mouth quite often during the day.

When you had gone to Yuna’s apartment the next day to pick up your small duffel bag, she had only looked at you knowingly. Despite your cheeks burning, you neither confirmed nor denied anything.

And now, because you and Jungkook both can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other, you’ve taken to waking up forty-five minutes earlier than usual to drive into Seoul to pick him up and go to work together.

Grandma looks at you knowingly, teasing you most of the time as you leave the house. You only glare at her half-heartedly.

It’s a time for you both to have a coffee and a small breakfast together in his apartment. Sometimes Taehyung joins you, giving Jungkook sly looks. Looks that Jungkook pointedly avoids.

On the days that you and Jungkook are alone for an extra ten minutes in his kitchen, he finds himself kissing the gloss right off of your lips with you slotted in between his legs and his hands cradled around your hips. He wishes he could have just a little more with you, a little more than quick morning kisses and coffee, a little more than catching glimpses of you at work.

Jungkook wants more of you. He wants you in his life as a permanent fixture, as his girlfriend. As his best friend. Which is why he’s planning on asking you on a real date today. He’s timed it perfectly, he’ll ask you right after you park the car at work.

He’s already made reservations at a restaurant you had briefly mentioned to him over the last week. You had really only told him out of innocent intentions- simply to tell him just because you had found something you wanted to try. You hadn’t intended to say it as a means for him to ask you on a date.

But if it so happened that way, you wouldn’t complain.

The car ride to work is sometimes quiet, with the faint sound of his playlist coming out of the speakers. Sometimes you both idly chatted about what your morning would look like, or you’d both be singing along to whatever song was playing. You were either holding his hand or touching his thigh with your hand, at any instance that you could, whenever you could.

For someone who hadn’t been held or touched very often, you sure couldn’t get enough of it recently.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmurs when you pull into your usual parking space, “Gotta ask you something, baby.”

“Hmm?” You say distractedly, unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for your bag in the backseat.

“Pay attention,” Jungkook says gently, cupping your neck. You turn your head to look him in the eyes with a raised eyebrow. His palms feel clammy and he wonders if you feel it against your skin. But he doesn’t pull away.

“Will you-,” Jungkook takes a deep breath, “Go on a date with me? I made reservations at that restaurant you mentioned the other week- fuck, was that presumptuous of me? Should I have asked you first and then made reser-umph-”

You cut him off with a firm kiss to ease him. You smile against the kiss, surely a good sign. But still he needs to hear your approval.

“Ask me again, baby,” You encourage softly, thumbing away stray gloss from his lips.

“Will you go on a date with me? I really like you, if you couldn’t tell, and I want to go on a date with you,” Jungkook says, ignoring the way his cheeks must be red by now.

Your face splits into another beaming smile.

“Yes,” You breathe, “Yes, yes, yes. And if you couldn’t tell. I really like you.”

Another minute of his lips on yours, stealing your breath right before work. The worry of someone seeing you both seems to slip away with the slip of his tongue in your mouth.

“You must be a mind reader,” You say hoarsely, “Because I was just about to make reservations at that restaurant for us.”

Neither of you notice the sly eyes of one Kim Seokjin glancing at you both through the windshield as he walks past your car. You and Jungkook are too blissfully wrapped in each other to notice him.

“So,” Jin says, his voice saccharine sweet. You know that voice, but you’re hardly paying attention to him. He has a secret. A secret about you.

“What?” You bark, not taking your eyes off of your dual monitor as you reply to an email from Hae-ri.

If you paid attention to Jin’s voice, then maybe you could have stopped his questioning before it started. But your back is turned away from him and when he smugly tells you what he knows, you nearly fall off your chair-

“I saw you k-i-s-s-i-n-g Jung-”

“Shut the fuck! Shut the fuck up,” You whisper-shout and discreetly kick him in the shin. He gasps, his pillowy lips parted in feigned shock.

“Hey! These are my good pants,” Jin protests indignantly, “Besides it’s not like either of you were hiding, I mean you were sucking the poor man’s face off-”

“Seokjin!” You hiss, “Will you shut up-”

“You should be grateful it was just me and not someone more important-”

“At this point, I would rather it have been someone else, considering how obnoxious you are-”

“Really? You would’ve rather your boss have walked by you sucking face with our resident golden boy?”

“Shut up,” You groan and sink into your seat but you can’t help but laugh, “We should’ve been more careful…”

“Oh so now there’s a we?” Jin says in hushed tones with wide eyes, “I knew it. Yuna and I both called it, after that night in the bar. But you wound me, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me-”

“Jin,” You complain, “Later, I promise.”

“Okay,” His face splits into a wide smile and he pauses for a second before saying, “I’m proud of you.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before leaving your cubicle.

Jungkook’s throat is dry when he pulls up in front of your house. He takes a sharp swig of water before texting you with nervous fingers that he’s arrived.

And when you step out of your house in heels, a burgundy long sleeved top tucked into your tight, black pants, Jungkook groans to himself.

How do you always look so good?

He immediately hops out of the car to greet you with a quick hello and a side hug. Without saying another word, he approaches your Grandma and swallows his nerves immediately and bows in front of her.

Parents and grandparents love him, he has nothing to worry about.

“You must be Jungkook,” Grandma says swiftly, crossing her arms across her chest and eyeing him carefully.

If he sees the panic in your eyes, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Jungkook smiles widely, bunny smile on display and Grandma, to your surprise smiles back.

“You must be Grandma,” Jungkook says, his voice a little teasing.

“What gave it away,” Grandma says sarcastically.

“Your granddaughter has the same pretty eyes,” Jungkook says genuinely and you hold back a roll of your eyes. But Grandma eats it up, because who wouldn’t?

“Bring my granddaughter back before midnight, huh?” Grandma says, half joking and waving a finger at him.

“Grandma! Don’t embarrass me,” You nearly whine and try to tug Jungkook away but he stays rooted on the spot.

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Grandma,” Jungkook says, “I’ll have her back safe and sound.”

“No funny business-”

“Grandma! We’re leaving,” You hiss, glaring at your laughing Grandma as you drag Jungkook away.

“Sorry about her,” You mumble once you're seated in the passenger’s seat and press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Grandma’s right there, don’t try any funny business,” Jungkook teases and waves at Grandma. Of course she waves back.

“Alright, princess, you ready for the best first date of your life?” Jungkook says airily, not really expecting a response. But you make a funny noise in between a laugh and a groan.

“I don’t have much to compare this first date to, if I’m being honest,” You confess with a shrug.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook says easily, “Besides, this is the only one that matters.”

Jungkook is the perfect gentleman the entire night, not that you expected anything less from the man who has a heart of gold. He walks you into the restaurant with a hand over your lower back as he smoothly gives his name for the reservation. The host leads you both to a quiet corner of the restaurant- you wonder if he’d specifically requested that. The lights are dim, miniature chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and illuminating you in a pretty golden wash.

“After you, baby,” He murmurs, giving you a squeeze of your hip and gesturing for you to slide into the mahogany seats of the booth.

Jungkook sits across from you, eyes sparkling in the glow of the restaurant. The host leaves you both with menus, embossed in red and gold.

Dinner with him is easy- it’s easy to be yourself, to let yourself relax. You playfully push your foot to his and let it slide up his calf. To which he does the same and winks at you. Talking to him is easy, and just being in his presence makes your heart burst and speed up in anticipation.

The backseat of Jungkook’s car even smells like him, but maybe that’s because your head is against the broad expanse of his chest. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne pleasantly fills your nostrils and you hum. His heartbeat is pressed right against your ear, a calming symphony that has you mesmerized. Jungkook’s arm is draped over your shoulder and he rubs your shoulder over your blouse.

You both sit in a comfortable silence together. You don’t really want to let the night end, not just yet.

Jungkook looks down at you, a small smile on his face as he tugs your hand in his and squeezes. Your heart jumps in your chest at the small action- you can’t resist looking up at him and leaning in closer.

Your gaze dips to his pouty, pink lips back to his doe eyes. “Kiss me, Bambi,” You demand softly, and his lips are on yours in the same breath. He’s playful, squeezing your hips and giggling into your mouth.

But at some point, your tongue slips into his mouth with a satisfied hum and your hands thread through his soft hair, tugging gently. He moans into your mouth and you swallow everything he breathes into you.

Jungkook tastes like everything you want. The city lights around you fade away when you’re in his arms- all you see is the swell of his lips and the way he looks at you as if you contain the universe in your kiss.

You always want him to look at you like this. It’s easy to push away the distant memory of his cold eyes from months ago when he holds you tightly and kisses you as if he’s trying to pour his soul into you. His chest is flush against yours- his warmth enveloping you in every crevice. Jungkook presses his forehead against yours when your hips start rocking into his, a low and broken moan spilling from his throat.

“Jungkook,” You mumble, tightening your grip around his head, “Feels good…”

The heat of your clothed pussy against his clothed cock is enough to tint his cheeks. Jungkook holds you steady with one hand on your hips and the other cradling your neck. You lean into his touch eagerly, speeding your own movements up against him.

“Rock with me, baby,” Jungkook says hoarsely, moving your hips in time with his. You look at him with hooded eyes as you lean forward for a rushed kiss, the sound of your broken moans cut off by the urgency of your kiss.

Your hips roll into his in a practiced symphony and neither of you are patient enough to pull away for a breath. You just want him- you want all of him, anything he’ll give you. You want him to devour you- you want to feel his heartbeat beside yours.

You want him to feel good with you, as good as you feel with him. You want more.

“Can I touch you,” Jungkook asks softly, pulling away to look at you. You’re nodding already before he even finishes the question, impatiently untucking your blouse from the waistband of your pants.

“Take it off, baby,” You nearly whine at him, “Want you to take it off.”

“Are you sure,” Jungkook rasps.

“Yes,” You say impatiently, “Don’t you wanna see me baby? See your dream girl’s tits?”

Jungkook’s throat goes dry, his cock jumping at your words and you smirk at him. Your eyes are swirling with mischief and desire.

For him. You want him.

Jungkook tugs at your top impatiently, pushing it up and off of your shoulders and unclasps your bra in one quick motion.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathes, eyes glued to your chest. He’s unable to look away from the color and swirls of ink painting your glowing skin, blooming on your shoulder and dipping into your chest. He sees a wash of color nearly hidden in the valley of your breasts.

“Will you tell me about your tattoos someday,” Jungkook asks softly, cradling your cheek.

“Mmm, maybe if you get a second date,” You tease and turn your head slightly to kiss his palm.

“And what does a guy have to do to get a second date?” Jungkook asks, curling his hands around your tits.

“You make me cum twice and you get a second date,” You sigh breathily when he squeezes you delicately. You grind your hips into his to get him to touch you more and he pinches your nipple playfully.

“Oh, that’s all?” Jungkook asks cockily, his voice bursting with confidence.

“You-ohhh, Jungkook,” You gasp when he dots your neck in featherlight kisses, tracing his way over your tattoos with his lips as he learns the curves of your body.

“Shit,” You groan, throwing your hands out to brace yourself against his broad shoulders, “Fuck, Jungkook…”

He buries his face in your chest, inhaling your woodsy, musky perfume as his big hands trail your sides and heat you up from within. Jungkook’s lips suddenly shift to kiss your tits and you moan, possibly louder Jungkook’s ever heard you moan before.

You’d be a little more embarrassed (maybe, likely not), if you didn’t want him to do that again. And again. And again.

Jungkook thinks your tits look good in his hands and he thinks buried in between them might be one of his favorite places to be. You’re so warm in his lap- you look like an angel, a goddess above him.

His dream girl. His dream girl in his lap, in his arms, moaning his name. Moaning for him.

His cock hardens more just from your soft sounds. He’s desperate for you, rutting his hips against you as he licks your nipple. He looks up, watching for your reaction- your eyes are hooded, lips parted in desire. You thread your hands through his dark strands and push his head further into your chest.

Jungkook pulls away from kissing your tits with a soft pop! The haze clouding your mind begins to lift and you frown at him, about to chastise him, but he only maneuvers you so that your back is flat against the car seat and he’s hovering over you.

Your breasts bounce and he can’t look away. He is only a man, after all. You smirk at him and drag your foot over his thigh before wrapping both legs around his narrow waist.

“Do that again. I’ve never felt like that before,” You confess airily, pressing a hand to his chest and scratching lightly.

“Nobody’s sucked on your tits before, princess?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, not like that…” You shrug, “And… it’s been a long time, you know? I didn’t really… Didn’t really want to do much of anything for a long time.”

“I know, baby,” Jungkook coos, settling his weight on top of you and kissing you deeply, “I’m happy you picked me.”

“Me too,” You mumble, “I’m happy you picked me, too.”

It’s a tight fit, but Jungkook finds a way to make it work. You tug at his sweater wanting to feel and see his arms and his chest. He’s your Bambi, your golden boy, and you want to feel golden, too.

Jungkook pulls away for a moment and pulls his sweater off of him, rustling his dark hair in the process. You hum, delighted that his bare skin is only inches away from you.

You trace his tattoos with your fingers curiously, enjoying the way the corded muscle of his arm feels under your skin. “Will you tell me about your tattoos someday,” You repeat his words back to him, rubbing his arm fondly.

“Maybe if you get a second date,” Jungkook teases, giving your words right back to you. He kisses your lips quickly, then licks a stripe down your neck, kissing your collarbones...your chest, your belly. He wants to keep his lips here, along the swell of your tits, just to pull those noises from your throat for even a second longer.

“And what does a girl have to do to get a second date,” You exhale shakily.

“Mmm,” Jungkook says thoughtfully, “I make you cum twice, and you get a second date.”

A choked noise rips from your throat and Jungkook only grins salaciously at you. He brackets your head with his thick forearms- you can see the blooms and swirls of colors of his tattoos in your periphery. But really all you want to do is focus on him.

Jungkook can’t get enough of the smooth push and pull of your lips against his. Somehow, you both move in synchronized harmony- you follow him and he follows you. You swallow his moans and he swallows your sighs. Give and take.

But right now, he just wants to give.

You roam his forearms, his biceps, squeezing and touching lightly as you make your way to his shoulder blades. A moan of his name sits in between you both when you feel the corded lines of muscle.

You can’t believe this beautiful man is laying on top of you like this. “You’re pretty,” You mumble, “Pretty boy Bambi.”

Jungkook takes your teasing without complaining, so long as you continue to rake your nails along his back like that.

Besides he has plenty of time to quiet your teasing.

Your back arches off of the seat when he licks your nipple, swirling his tongue around your sensitive skin.

You didn’t think it could ever feel that good, but the man clearly knows what he’s doing. And that’s a conversation for another time. As he nips and licks your tits, he grinds his hips into yours. You feel the hot glide of his clothed, hardened cock against your already soaked pussy- and how are you supposed to let him leave this car without making him cum as well?

“You could cum like this, couldn't you?” Jungkook says softly, looking up at you from your chest with hooded eyes.

You nod- words seem to fail you.

“Use your words, baby,” Jungkook encourages, cupping your chin with his index finger and his thumb.

“Yes, but-“ You cut your train of thought off as he speeds his hips up against you. He’s struggling too, it seems, his brow furrowed and sweat beginning to gather at his forehead. His hair falls into his eyes and you instantly push it away.

You always want to see his eyes.

“But what,” Jungkook murmurs. his grip on you is tight, and he’s right- you could most definitely cum like this. Just from his simple touch and his warm mouth.

“More, I want more,” You breathe, “Will you…”

But Jungkook doesn’t let you finish, only rolling your nipples in his fingers as he kisses your tits. He senses your thighs beginning to quake and your eyes beginning to roll back. You latch your hands onto his upper arms as Jungkook rocks into you, and you feel the coil snap with a loud call of his name you cum in his arms.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He smirks at you but you return his gaze unabashedly, despite the heat in your cheeks.

If you look that beautiful coming undone just from grinding on him, he wonders how you’ll look when he eats you out. When he fucks you on his cock. Or even his fingers.

“One down, one to go,” Jungkook teases and you swat his chest.

“I liked that,” You admit softly and pull him down for a gentle kiss to his neck and then his lips.

“Me too,” Jungkook smiles, eyes sparkling as he nudges your nose with his. He kisses you again, lazily and slowly as you float down from your bliss. Your bliss with him in it.

“You were saying something earlier,” Jungkook murmurs, barely a hair’s breadth from you.

“Oh,” You reply, a little dazed, “Oh yeah.”

“Wanna finish your train of thought?”

“Absolutely,” You grin, threading your hand through his and pulling his other hand to rest on your chest. You hum contentedly when he squeezes, eyes glossing over your tattoos in curiosity.

For another day.

“I wanna fuck you,” You say bluntly, taking Jungkook by surprise. His lips part in surprise and it makes you giggle. “What, cat got your tongue, Bambi?”

“N-no,” Jungkook stutters, “No. ‘M not fuckin’ you for the first time in my car.”

“And why not,” You complain, raking your nails over his abs impatiently and palming his cock through his pants, “I mean I know, it’s a tight fit, but-”

“No,” Jungkook says firmly, “I’m not making love with you for the first time in my car, baby. Gonna wine, dine, and sixty-nine you-”

“Oh, now you’re making love to me, huh?” You tease with a knowing smile, cradling his face in your hands, “But I just want your cock, and you’ve already wine and dined me…”

“You’ll have my fingers instead,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice low and rough. You gasp at how deep his voice has gone, how smooth it sounds.

How his words demand respect and you want to listen to him.

“How does that sound, baby? Does my pretty baby want my fingers?” Jungkook asks and you nod, biting your bottom lip harshly.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop,” Jungkook says, pulling your bottom lip out of the grip your teeth have on it.

You only nod but Jungkook shakes his head. “Use your words, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, “Use your words with me.”

“Y-yes,” You say, cheeks heating up, “Want your fingers. And I-I’ll tell you if I want you to s-stop.”

“Good girl,” Jungkook says, not missing your soft but sharp inhale, “Gonna unbutton your pants now, alright?”

His hands are gentle and firm as he drags your pants down your legs, but not all the way. After all, it’s too tight of a space to properly do much of anything. The sight of a large group of flowers on your upper thigh distracts him- his kisses up your calf and along your thigh make you feel a little shy.

You’re on a cloud, you must be- a slow moving, cotton candy soft cloud where your head is empty and filled with thoughts only of Jungkook and his touch. His big hands gripping your thighs as if it’s nothing, cramped but close to you as much as he can be.

“Cute panties, baby,” Jungkook teases, snapping the waistband of your plain baby pink underwear.

“Shut up,” You grin, tugging at his hair playfully.

“You know,” Jungkook says throatily, “Wanna take my time with you. Make you cum with my fingers first, then on my tongue… but you’re so fuckin’ impatient, baby. What am I gonna do with you?”

What comes out of your mouth next isn’t your fault, it’s really not. It’s not your fault that his abs flex right in your face, that his arms flex and bulge in front of your very eyes. It’s not your fault your eyes instantly land on his big hands, specifically, the hand lined with tattoos on his knuckles spilling into his forearm and his bicep.

“Choke me,” You blurt out without thinking.

Your stupid, silly mind. Running faster than you can keep up with. And yet, embarrassment eludes you. You grin a little sheepishly when he looks at you with wide, surprised doe eyes.

“Too soon?” You shrug, your smile fading and feeling a little self conscious when he stays silent for longer than a moment, “I’m sorry, ‘m awful at reading the room-”

“No, no,” Jungkook murmurs, stopping your train of thought before it begins, “You just surprise me. That’s all.”

“I hope that’s a good type of surprise,” You laugh nervously, “And not like the type of surprise you get when you turn your work computer on and realized you missed a meeting that was put on the calendar after you logged off-”

“Definitely a good type of surprise,” Jungkook nearly purrs.

“Okay,” You say faintly.

Your mind is spinning, taking off in another direction with Jungkook right by your side. He parts your thighs easily, dotting your inner thighs with needy kisses.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jungkook moans into your skin, “Smell so good. Bet you taste even better, pretty girl.

“But that’s for another day, when my legs aren’t about to give out from being cramped.”

You laugh, pulling a crinkly-eyed smile from him too. He shifts a little to kiss your hips, hands never leaving your heated skin. Vulnerability crawls up your arms uneasily when he pushes your panties to the side. He wants to pull them off of your bare legs but there’s not enough room in the car, so this will do. You don’t recall the last time anyone had seen you like this- you swallow in anticipation, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

But Jungkook only looks at you adoringly, as if he can’t believe you’re opening yourself up to him in this way. He hovers over you, slotting himself in between your legs and presses his lips to yours quickly.

You gasp into his mouth, a soft cry of his name filling the comfortable quiet when his index finger slips into your pussy. It’s been so long- and you can’t recall a time when it felt like this. Pretty noises spill from your bitten lips as you try to wrap your legs around his narrow waist. His eyes are burning into yours, your cheeks heating up from the intensity of his gaze.

You don’t know where to put your hands and your brief panic is evident in your face. You feel awkward around him a little- he’s clearly adept with his fingers, his hips rolling in a practiced symphony. And then there’s you.

You can’t even meet his eyes when the soft noises of your wetness fill the space between you both.

“Hey,” Jungkook says a little gruffly, his fingers still stuffed in your pussy, “It’s just me. You can touch me, baby.”

“O-okay.”

You tentatively press your fingers to his sides, trying not to feel so awkward. But the more he reassures you, the more he drops kisses to your neck and the more he rubs your clit, you relax.

Jungkook is nothing if not a quick learner, and he’s on a mission to learn what you like. He watches your face carefully with each stroke of his fingers in you and quickly finds a steady rhythm that has you gripping his arms tightly. The slight bite of pain from your freshly done nails is nothing compared to the way his name sounds like flowers blooming on your lips.

He thinks he’s got a pretty good read on you.

“Good girl,” Jungkook tests and smirks when a gush of wetness coats his fingers. You squirm in his arms, from embarrassment and to get more friction, but he’s not having any of it.

“I told you,” Jungkook rasps, “It’s just me, princess. Just wanna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

Before you can reply, Jungkook draws lazy circles on your clit and your head jerks backwards as you squirm. The back of your head hits the door panel with a thunk and you wince with a laugh.

“Sorry, baby,” Jungkook murmurs with a soft grin and cradles the back of your head, “Next time, I’ll take you home like you deserve.”

“Next time? You still owe me an orgasm,” You tease.

Jungkook’s eyes shift as he strokes you again, your teasing words dying on your tongue. “I know you’re close, baby,” Jungkook groans, “Can feel it.”

He scissors his fingers inside you and speeds his circles on your clit. “O-oh-Jungkook,” You mumble, “Fuck, that feels good- Oh!”

Jungkook catches it before you do, the way your thighs begin to quiver, your grip on him tightening and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Cum, baby, cum all over my fingers,” Jungkook murmurs, “Good girl, my pretty girl.”

You whine at his words, the sound ripping out of your mouth sounding foreign to you as the pressure building finally blossoms in your belly and snaps. Waves of pleasure push through you, haziness surrounding your eyes. But all you can really make out is Jungkook and his pretty, brown eyes.

He pulls his hands away from your pussy and you blink at him with wide eyes when he shows you his glistening fingers with a crooked grin. Your mouth falls open in surprise when he licks his fingers clean and grins at you salaciously. You swallow nervously.

“Knew it. Knew you’d taste good,” Jungkook says and kisses you harshly. You wish you weren’t in the confines of the car, so you could properly feel him.

You feel as if the air has been punched out of your lungs. The man slotted on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your hair and caressing your cheeks is somehow the same man with a filthy mouth on him.

Ah. The duality of man, you suppose.

“Holy shit,” You mutter.

“How was that?” Jungkook asks, sincerity in his voice, “Too much? Are you okay?”

“Holy shit,” You repeat, “That was...fun. I liked that. A lot. And…”

You look away from him, feeling a little shy but he has a hand on your chin and pulls your gaze back to him. “And?”

“And… I-uh,” You stammer, “I-I’m- it feels really good with you. With you specifically. And I hope… that I can make you feel as good as you make me-umph-”

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss, somehow holding your hips tight in his hands. You can feel the hardness and heaviness of his cock against your hip and it makes you swallow.

“W-what about you,” You mumble against his lips, “I wanna take care of that for you-”

“Next time, baby,” Jungkook promises you and you pout at him. He only laughs, eyes crinkled and he kisses your pout away. “I promised Grandma I’d have you home by midnight-”

“Glad to see you’re a man of your word,” You murmur and Jungkook pulls off of you, somehow ignoring how hard his cock is in the confines of his pants. He helps you button up your pants and cleans up your smudged lip gloss. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the tent in his pants and he clicks his tongue at you.

“My eyes are up here,” He teases, “Second date, baby. Just wanted to make you feel good.”

“There’s a lot riding on that second date, huh?” You muse, “Maybe I will, too. Ride you, I mean. On our second date.”

Grandma is asleep when you fumble with the keys and try to open the door as quietly as you can without disturbing her. Your face is incredibly heated and your lips are pulled apart in a permanent smile. As they usually seem to be around Jungkook.

He waits for you to go inside and waves at you as he takes off.

You’re giddy as you tiptoe to your bedroom to change, do your nighttime skincare routine and get into bed. You had told Jungkook to text you when he gets home, but really, you might just text him anyways. It should take him about twenty minutes to get home, considering the late hour.

Your phone lights up with his name and you can’t help but smile fondly.

Jungkook: im home You: me too Jungkook: very funny You: :) You: I had a great time tonight kook Jungkook: me too :) You: goodnight You: baby You: 💗 Jungkook: goodnight princess 💖

Sleep comes easily to you that night.

You: i’m really sore You: also good morning

And somehow Jungkook is supposed to respond to your text as if that doesn’t send a pulse of desire down his spine. He knows you say it innocently, probably just to genuinely tell him. But he can’t help where his thoughts go.

Honestly, the minute he got home, he had to take a shower and jerk himself off with how uncomfortably hard he was. He flushes when he thinks about how pretty and pliant you looked in his arms the night before, how the blatant trust and adoration in your eyes was reserved only for him.

It sends another rush of heat to his cock. He can’t believe he fingered you in his car of all places- he genuinely hadn’t planned for it to happen. But it did, and he loves that you feel comfortable with him.

He wonders if it’s going too fast- too much, too soon. He had confessed to Taehyung later the following afternoon over ramen that he was scared of making you uncomfortable-

“She hasn’t been in a serious relationship before, I don’t want to push too hard,” Jungkook says after slurping his ramen.

“I think she would tell you if you’re pushing too hard,” Taehyung says bluntly, “She’s never held back before, has she?”

“No, but-”

“Have you ever known her to be anything other than honest with you? Besides, she’s the one who stopped you both from going further that one morning she came over for coffee before work right?”

“Yeah… said it was making her nervous how quickly we got to this level of closeness.”

“Exactly. Just ask her to be honest with you, ask her if she’s comfortable, and go from there.”

Taehyung punches his shoulder and Jungkook nearly chokes.

It feels so easy with you- easy to talk to you, easy to gauge your feelings, your wants and desires. He can’t recall it being this easy with anyone else. Jungkook chastises himself for comparing you to other women in his past.

He has to remind himself to not think of you with rose-tinted glasses. You’ve chastised him for it once or twice before-

“Jungkook,” You mumble softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Hmm?”

“You know I love when you call me your dream girl,” You admit, “But you have to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t… don’t put me on this pedestal. Don’t think of me a certain way where you excuse when I hurt your feelings or do something wrong.”

“O-okay.”

He thinks you’re perfect, imperfections and all.

The only instruction Jungkook gives you for your second date is to dress up a little, on the dressier side of casual. And he tells you that you’ll be outdoors and that he has a backup plan in case it rains. Though he’s hoping that it doesn’t.

A few weeks have gone by since Jungkook had taken you to dinner and made you cum twice in his car (a memory that you tuck away for when your fingers dip into your panties). You still see Jungkook pretty often- picking him up from his apartment a few times a week, seeing him at work, sneaking glances and kisses.

He asks you if you’d like to stay the weekend with him as part of your second date.. Your first instinct is to wholeheartedly say yes, but you hesitate. Is it too soon?

Does that even matter? You panic, telling Jungkook you would let him know. And immediately talk it out with Jin and Yuna, feeling much better after-

“Do you want to stay at his place?” Yuna asks bluntly.

“Yeah-”

“Then stay at his place,” Jin chimes in.

“But you don’t think it’s too soon? We’ve only been on one date, I mean what if it’s moving too fast and we just- we just get tired of each other-”

“I think you’re both two consenting adults who are super fuckin’ into each other. Just enjoy yourselves,” Jin shrugs, “We’re too old for games anyway.”

“I know that,” You sigh, “I just- isn’t there supposed to be more of a chase?”

“You can make him chase you while still sleeping with him before the second date,” Yuna says slyly.

“You speaking from experience?” You grin and Seokjin sputters, a dash of red tinting his cheeks.

And then Grandma had convinced you to spend the weekend at Jungkook’s apartment. She knows more than you let on, you think. She must know how you’re both itching to have each other and be in your own bubble for a bit. She manages to persuade you that final inch and give into what your heart wants. She tells you to be happy and embrace it for once.

She tells you she’ll call you everyday and you nod. So you text Jungkook, telling him that you’ll come by on Friday after work.

And Jungkook can’t help the rush of giddiness that follows. Friday can’t come soon enough- the rushes, stolen glances and kisses aren’t cutting it for him. Excitement courses through his veins at the thought of you spending the entire weekend with him. He makes sure the already clean apartment is spotless for when you arrive, groceries are stocked, and he makes sure that your favorite candle of his is stocked up.

You had gone to Jungkook’s apartment complex from home after work on Friday with your night bag and promises from Grandma. You had picked up a bottle of wine, a box of chocolate croissants for Jungkook and Taehyung and some flowers, as it was your first time spending the weekend at his place.

Excited nerves bounce around in your head.

Jungkook had come down to greet you once you had street parked (an impressive parking job, if you do say so yourself), and he had planted a deep kiss on your lips. As if he hadn’t seen you only a few hours prior. But still, you laugh and it’s loud and giddy.

You’ve never stayed the night with any boyfriend (not that you have one to compare the experience to), but because it’s Jungkook… it makes you giddy.

Jungkook wordlessly takes your bag from you easily and slings an arm around your shoulders, his eyes crinkling with his smile. You staying the weekend makes his heart burst- he hopes you have as much fun with him as he has with you.

He kisses you hello in the elevator, arm still slung around your shoulders. “Hi,” Jungkook breathes.

“Hey,” You say just as softly, “I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says into your hair and takes your hand once you arrive on his floor.

He smiles at you brightly, your favorite bunny smile sending butterflies through your belly. He tells you to get comfortable, so you say hello to Taehyung who pulls you into a hug and shoots Jungkook a sly look over his head.

Jungkook can’t even bring himself to roll his eyes at Taehyung, too caught up with the fact that you were in his apartment for the entire weekend.

Friday night had been spent watching scary movies, eating soup and meat and drinking wine in the living room. You had fallen asleep cuddled close to Jungkook, tucked into his side in your night clothes.

He carries you to his bed, kissing your forehead and quickly falling asleep next to you. He dreams of you and wakes up with you, a rosy notion that he falls in love with more each time.

Jungkook feels you peppering him with barely there kisses, your arm lazily sliding around him to cup his cheek. He doesn’t open his eyes, only holding your wrist in place and leaning into your warm touch.

“I know you’re awake,” You murmur, a smile in your voice. He loves your morning voice, the rich honey of it that only he gets to hear.

Jungkook only hums. You huff, sidling up closer to him and throwing your leg over his waist. His grip on you drifts to your waist and a smile ghosts his face.

“Good morning, baby,” You try again, pressing a kiss to his lips. This seems to wake him up and he rolls you on your back, slotting himself between your thighs and murmuring his own ‘good morning’.

“Wanna tell you somethin’ Kook,” You murmur against his lips.

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, lips pressed against the column of your throat. He pulls away when you whine at him for his attention on what you’re about to say and he blinks the still warm arms of sleep from his eyes.

You wonder if you should splay your heart out to him, or turn your back on your heart and allow your brain to speak for it. But he’s looking at you so endearingly that you embrace your tender heart this time.

“I really like you,” You say softly. It’s not new information for him, but you like repeating it to him whenever you can.

“You don’t like like me? I’ve missed a step somewhere,” Jungkook teases, laughing when you smack his shoulder. But you laugh with him, because that’s how it is between you both. Only smiles and laughter and almost love.

“I really, really like you, sweet girl,” Jungkook murmurs.

You look at him with hearts in your eyes, excitement in your smile and pull him in for another kiss. “I like you so much, Jungkook,” You mumble, determination in your eyes. Before he can reply and tell you the same, your nails scratch at his chest.

It doesn’t take much for his cock to harden fully- he’d already been more than half hard when you had woken him up with kisses. It only takes a few whispered words, a few strokes of your hand on his bare chest, a few slips of your tongue in his mouth, a few glides of your hips.

Jungkook lazily lets you flip him on his back, his hands nestled over your hips from under your shirt. Your nails are gentle over his skin, eyes wide as if you’re trying to soak in every inch of him and commit him to memory. He pulls you down for a kiss, and then another, and palms your tits playfully. Pulling a soft groan out of you.

The gentle tug of fatigue still dots your limbs, your body moving just as slowly as your mind. All you know is that you want him to feel good, your pretty boy.

The way the dim sunlight filters onto your skin makes you glow golden. Jungkook is mesmerized when you pull your night shorts off, hovering over his hips. You look to him curiously, hands stalling over his boxers.

“Wanna ride you,” You say simply.

“Thought I told you that was for after our second date,” Jungkook teases, “Besides, you’re not wet enough-”

“I can ride you like this,” You mumble, brushing your clothed pussy over his clothed cock, “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

“Is this okay?” You whisper unsurely, eyes wide and searching for his approval.

“More than, baby,” Jungkook says hoarsely, “You’re so pretty. My pretty girl.”

You grind your hips into his, the warmth of his body lighting you up from within. Just being near him, being on top of him like this, makes your pussy clench around nothing. Jungkook can see a wet patch forming on your panties with each drag of your clit over his cock.

You groan softly, bursts of slow honey erupting from behind your eyelids. You reach for his hand on your hip and thread your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes begin to wander just as yours do- to your thighs and the swirls of ink curling along your skin, your wide, blown out eyes.

Jungkook lets the pads of his fingers sink into your thighs and he groans with half-lidded eyes. A soft flush creeps up his chest and blooms on his cheeks at the noises coming out of your mouth and spilling into the quiet, morning air.

He doesn’t know where he wants to touch- he just knows he wants to touch you everywhere. He can’t get enough of the feel of you in his arms. You’re a vision above him, hips moving languidly, hands raking over his forearms. It’s quiet between you both, the stillness of the early morning still weighing on his shoulders.

Jungkook feels it building in his belly, a coil almost ready to snap. It only takes a few more drags of your nails on his skin, a few more of your breathy sighs of his name, a few more lazy swivels of your hips on his aching cock for him to cum in his boxers. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, swirls and images of you at the back of his eyelids imploding as he groans your name.

“Kook,” You mumble, “Wanna cum. Help me, make me cum.”

Jungkook focuses on you, eyes drawn to the intensity with which you grind on his softening cock. He presses his thumb to the wet spot on your panties that has dripped onto his boxers, mixing with his own cum.

“Oh, honey,” Jungkook sighs, “Look at you. Messy girl. My pretty baby can’t cum on her own, huh? Need me?”

“Yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Yeah, I need you, baby…”

It only takes the slip of his fingers into your panties, swiping over your glossy folds and a few lazy rubs of his thumb for you to come undone just by his touch. Your eyelids flutter, a quiet whisper of his name tucked into the planes of his chest.

“You’re messy,” You grin and eye his boxers. He gives you a sheepish grin.

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs. He rolls off of the bed, feeling quite gross with his sticky boxers sticking to him like a second skin. He takes a pair of clean underwear and washes himself down carefully.

“It’s still early,” You say once he returns to bed with you, pulling you into his side and rubbing your shoulder adoringly, “Sun’s barely up yet.”

“So let’s go back to sleep for a bit,” Jungkook murmurs, rolling onto his side and pressing his chest to your back. He’s already dozing off, your warmth filtering around him like a cloud.

You wake up with his soft lips on your neck, his hands loose around your waist, and his nose in your hair. “Lemme make you cum again,” Jungkook says groggily into your hair.

So you do.

Jungkook hadn’t told you much about where your second date would be taking place. You had been suspicious when he had packed the trunk of his car in a rush, not really allowing you to poke around and ask questions.

It’s about a twenty minute ride to wherever he’s taking you to, and you spend most of it chit-chatting or staring out of the window, enjoying the cool springtime sunshine.

A beautiful park comes into view, lush trees and shades of orange, pink and purples. When he parks and pulls out a large picnic basket for you with a shy smile, you can hear your heart beating in your ears loudly. You can’t help the grin that threatens to take over your face. He has a hand at the small of your back loosely as he leads you further and further into the park.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for your blouse, light jacket and your jeans. Kids are running around with their friends and parents, but really, it just feels like you and Jungkook are alone in a bubble.

“What’s all this, Jungkook?” You murmur, sitting next to him once you lay out the dark green checkered picnic blanket on the grass.

“Well, we’re at a park. See the Han river is right there,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you swat his shoulder, “I-uh… Open the basket.”

You gasp, pushing Jungkook’s shoulder in disbelief when you see the assortment of food containers and two bottles of wine in the basket.

“You made this?” You murmur, “You did this for us?”

Your throat begins to close up and tears prick the back of your eyes, despite your watery smile. He’s so incredibly thoughtful and kind- everything you never thought you could have.

“I like that one the best,” You muse, swirling your glass of red wine (you can’t remember which one it is) in your hand.

“I hope you know which one that is, because I sure don’t,” Jungkook says.

“It’s the red one.”

“You don’t say.”

You laugh and lean against his shoulder. The people around you have begun to thin out as the sun had begun to go down. It’s a nice view of the river, but your favorite view is the one right next to you.

“Thank you,” You murmur, “I...I’m really happy and flattered you did this for me.” You stamp a kiss to his cheek quickly and lean further onto his shoulder. The silver hoops decorating his ears nearly tickle your head. He only wraps an arm around you and squeezes your waist. Jungkook looks at you, only to find you already looking at him. Your gaze flickers to his slightly parted lips and back to his deep eyes.

You close the gap and kiss him quickly. It’s chaste, only lasting a few seconds- you’re not used to kissing him like that out in public. Heat crawls up your cheeks, but you still grin at him.

“Want to go for a walk?” He murmurs into your hair. You nod and stand, feeling a little wobbly with all of the wine going straight to your head. Jungkook steadies you (because of course he does) with a hand on your back.

“Are you good to drive after?” You implore, folding up the picnic blanket, “Should I call Jin and Yuna to pick us up?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says with a crooked smile, “I got us, baby. Let’s go put this in the car.”

You’ll always be safe with him, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, only opening the picnic basket for you to slip the boxes of food into. Jungkook gently nudges your shoulder and follows your lead to his car.

The sun is slowly dipping down, illuminating the sky in hues of pinks, purples, and oranges. You and Jungkook walk side by side along the river- you’re unable to keep your eyes off of the way the sky reflects in the water and Jungkook is unable to keep his eyes off of you.

Your hand brushes along his accidentally, the warmth of his fingers sending goosebumps up your arms. Giving yourself a pep talk, you slip your hand into his and he can’t keep the pleasant surprise off of his face.

Jungkook squeezes your hand every so often as you both quietly talk and walk, enjoying the light spring breeze.

Jungkook wants to learn every curve and soft sinew of your body- he wants to learn what gets you to sigh his name in that way, that way that causes a seed of possessiveness to plant itself in his belly. He desperately wants to learn what makes you tick, what you like.

For now, he’ll keep it slow. The slow, hot glide of his cock in your wetness is enough for now. The tight grip you have on his forearms, the bounce of your tits brushing against his chest is enough. You beg him for a kiss as your legs lock around his waist, pulling a deeper brush of his cock inside of you, and he’s happy to indulge you.

Jungkook swallows everything you give him. He had stilled inside you with the first push of his cock into your pussy-

He watches your face, looking for any signs of discomfort. You tell him to wait while your eyes are squeezed shut, holding onto his biceps tightly.

You’re so wet and warm for him. He wants to stay like this for as long as he can- the feeling of your pussy clenching around him (inadvertently or not) is addicting.

“Okay,” You mumble, “I’m okay. Be slow with me?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replies instantly, kissing your forehead, “Yes, baby.” He thinks you like slow, but he thinks you might like spicy, too.

You cum rather quickly on his cock with his voice low in your ear and his fingers tracing over your clit and your nipples. He holds back, biting his tongue and instead nips at your neck as your pussy pulses around him. You’re smiling at him, a little dazed and a little dopey, your fingers tugging his hair.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” You murmur sweetly, your cheeks heating up, “You’re so good, your cock feels so good…”

Jungkook groans into your neck, his grip on your thighs tight as he tries to stop himself from ramming his cock into your pussy.

That’s for another day. Jungkook lifts his head, nudging your cheek with his nose and peers down at you. A thin layer of sweat coats your skin and Jungkook cradles your cheek protectively.

“Kiss me,” You demand softly, needily. He drops his head once more, capturing your lips with his and moaning into your mouth when you slip your tongue into his.

Jungkook loses himself in you, tracing your tattoos with his fingers as his rhythm sputters. Broken moans of your name spill into your lips as he cums into the condom when he stops his strokes.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck and you hum in agreement. He drops his weight onto you and you smile lazily, enjoying the feel of him all around you. He thinks your pussy is made for him- the velvety grip of your walls around him is dreamy. He needs a minute to regain his bearings, but he can see your eyes starting to flutter.

He’s already made you cum four times- or was it five? You’re deliciously tired. You groan in protest when he pulls out and pushes himself off of you with shaky legs to get up to clean the both of you up.

“Kook,” You complain softly, “Come back.”

You close your eyes for a minute and he’s in between your legs, cleaning you up and pulling a shirt over your head and sliding your arms through. “Figured you’d get cold,” Jungkook murmurs, his own bottom half covered with fresh boxers.

“Have some water,” He says, tipping the bottle of water towards your lips.

“Thanks,” You mutter, “Let’s nap. And then eat after.”

You’re already rolling closer to him, face pressed to his chest and hands loose around his waist.

Before he succumbs to sleep, Jungkook wonders if this is too much, too fast. But he doesn’t allow himself to go down that path- you both have spoken extensively about what you felt okay with and what you wanted from each other. Even if it might be early in this, it feels right and that’s something you both can agree on.

Sleep comes easily for both of you.

Diversity and inclusion in the workplace makes you scoff out loud and roll your eyes. You’ve only been here for five years, but you’ve seen how this plays out. While the concept itself might have western origins, the company is embracing the idea. But with workshops like this, people have their eyes open for the hour (or however long the workshop is) and don’t do the work outside of the workplace. It’s checking the box, in your opinion. Which is why you’re so reluctant to get involved with things like this.

Maybe you’re a cynic. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stonewalled at this company for so long. Maybe you should and could appreciate it more if the people around you would actually utilize the principles they preached about.

But the fact that your boss is leading today’s workshop makes you curious. What could your boss, the same boss who publicly ridicules you and blocks you from your own personal and professional development, have to say about a topic as pertinent as diversity and inclusion?

Your eyes are narrowed and sharp as you assess the conference room. Your boss is flipping through slides and speaking as if he knows anything and everything about the topic.

“...As a global company, we should be aware of the impact of our actions and words. And something for us to be proud of is the number of female executives at our company, we have some of the highest…”

You scoff out loud, drawing the surprised eyes of everyone in the room. You return their stares and ignore the way your heart speeds up at the unwarranted attention.

“Do you have something you want to say?” Your boss all but sneers at you and you double down on your icy gaze. You choose your next course of action a little recklessly, but you can’t bite your tongue. Not this time.

“You really wanna hear what I have to say?” You say, gripping your mug of coffee tightly, “We can’t talk about this without people acknowledging the way they continue to perpetuate toxic work environments- I mean, are you the best person to discuss this?”

A harsh, ruthless silence falls in the room and nearly chokes you. Anxiety crawls in your veins and suddenly you feel like throwing up. You leave quickly and quietly, but not before throwing another icy stare to everyone in the room.

Holy shit. You’ve definitely just lost your job, there’s no question about it. You can already hear the rumor mill. Your boss would be more than happy to let you go and cut his losses. What had you just done?

You make a beeline for Jin’s office. You don’t even know if he’s in a meeting or has something he’s working on but you don’t know where else to go. He tries to soothe you and calm you down, but you’re full on freaking out by this point-

“I’m gonna lose my job,” You say, your face in your hands, “What the fuck, I don’t know what came over me-”

He calls your name firmly, “Stop. I shouldn’t say this but… he deserved it. And you’re not the only person who has problems with him. You know that.”

“I’m the only one who embarrassed him like that! I’m gonna fucking lose this job, and then what? What am I going to do? I don’t want to go to HR-”

Jin stands in front of you and holds your upper arms steady, telling you to breathe with him. Your heart begins to slow and your vision clears a little.

“You know if it comes down to that, you have people to vouch for you,” Jin murmurs.

“Okay,” You say, a little lightheaded, “Okay.”

Jin hugs you, but he can’t quite stop the trembling that follows. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” Jin promises, “In the meantime, you should leave early. Or go find Jungkook, and then leave early.”

You crack a small smile, “That’s hardly appropriate. Thanks, Seokjin.”

You leave the building after seeing Jungkook. He walks you to your car, holding your trembling hand discreetly and kisses your hair, telling you to be brave and that everything will be okay. And you want to believe him, you really do. But this pit in your stomach feels too familiar for you to ignore.

tags: @koo-zy

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Babysitter (pt 10)

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: You and Tony have a discussion as Hela and Loki sneak around.

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Loki, Tony, Steve, Rhodey

Word Count: 1,813

Warnings: nothing? feels!

The New Avengers Facility was by far the most luxurious hideout you'd ever encountered. It was also incredibly large and perfect for aimless exploring.

The Avengers, though concerned for you once you arrived, quickly lost focus of you as they began flitting about their machines and computers to see what the hell was happening around the world.

You were given your own room, fully furnished with a well-stocked mini fridge. There was a camera situated outside by the door, so they’d know if you went in or out.

Normally you would’ve protested the house arrest, but you couldn’t be bothered suddenly. You were numb.

The Facility was massive. It varied from small cozy lounge areas to large open spaces for training, meetings, and all sorts of experimental engineering.

You were curled up in one of the tinier corners on a brown leather sofa. The rest of the place just seemed so pristine and neat and horrifically modern, no offense to Tony’s design tastes. There was a digital fireplace and heater, yet the 3D projection of the actual fire made it seem real. Only thing missing was the smell of burning wood.

“Thought you’d have run off by now,” grunted a voice behind you. Tony had come into the lounge. You kept looking at the fire.

“I have no where else to go, Tony,” you said bluntly. Over the past few days you’d been reading up more and more from the news, contacting people you hadn’t talked to in ages. There were a few distant friends and relatives who’d been taken by the Blip, and your heart ached at the ones you hadn’t been able to see one last time.

“Besides,” you sighed, breaking your gaze from the fire as Tony came to sit across from you, “none of you would have let me leave even if I really tried.”

He leaned back, stretching his body nonchalantly, and you noticed how weary and thin he actually looked. Dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers seemed to be twitching or twiddling consistently.

“What happened to you?” you muttered. “Why do you look like shit?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, waving his hand, “spent some merry time in space, that’s all. Wasn't planning on being stranded there, but here we are.”

You didn’t ask anything else. Instead you got up, walked to the near sink and pulled out a kettle from the cupboards to make yourself some tea.

“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Tony said in the silence, twisting in his seat to watch you, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “How on earth did you end up falling head over heels for a psycho?”

You snorted, grabbing a teabag and a mug, “you could ask Pepper the same thing.”

Tony clutched his chest in mock offence, “Ouch. Cold-hearted.”

Grinning, you steeped your tea, and turned around to look at Tony, “it’s not that simple, Stark.”

“No, I think it is,” he said.

“Well fine,” you sighed, slightly exasperated, “she was in my house with me alone, for days. At some point we ended up talking and actually getting to know each other. She opened up to me, and I to her and.. that was it.”

“And how do you know she wasn’t lying to get a way out?”

“She wasn’t. She’d never.”

“But how do you know? Wasn’t it you who always thought you had to give things time? She’s lived for thousands of years, Y/N. You’re a fruit-fly compared to her.”

“Why has this turned into an interrogation?” you snapped. He held up his hands,

“I’m not interrogating. Just trying to understand.”

“Why did Jane fall in love with Thor, huh? At the time he was a ridiculous, self-absorbed and mindless God who didn’t know how the hell this world worked. Why did Pepper fall in love with you? A narcissistic millionaire playboy who loves to play games and doesn’t take anything seriously?”

You paced the floor as your tea cooled down, fuming,

“Why the hell does anyone fall in love with anyone, huh? Who gets a fucking say in how they feel? And why do you guys have so little faith in me to trust what I feel? I’ve kept secrets for you, I’ve hidden you in my home, I’ve been a part of so much secrecy, and suddenly when I get a little heart-eyed at someone, you act as if I’ve been brainwashed.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. When you met his eyes, they were a little wider than before, looking at you questioningly.

“In love, huh?”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uh-huh, you did.”

“N-no, I didn’t, I said I-”

Your face became red, fumbling over your words.

Tony got up from his seat and clapped his hands as he sauntered over to the exit.

“Let’s go sparring, hm? Haven’t done that in a while,” he offered. You tried to cool your cheeks, forgetting about your tea steeping behind you.

“That’s cause I always lose,” you retorted. “You guys work out like your life depends on it. Which... it does.. I guess.”

“Yeah, but look at the state of me,” Tony spread out his arms and did a spin. “I’m feeling like trash. You’ll take me down no problem.”

You doubted that, but followed him anyways.

“Ah, fuck!” Hela swore as another branch tugged at her helmet.

“Will you shut up?” Loki hissed, crouching down and peeking through the trees. “God, you’re even more infuriating than Thor!”

Hela was breathing heavily, aching, grumpy.

“You really are a pain when you’re not around Y/N, aren’t you? You’re not going to massacre all the Avengers just because you’re peeved, right?”

“Be silent, filth,” she spat. Her brother only rolled his eyes. “What do you see?”

“I thought you wanted me to be silent.”

Hela whacked the back of his head and he grimaced,

“Alright, alright. Look yourself, it’ll be hard to get in undetected.”

Hela peered over his shoulder. He was right; there wasn’t a lot of hiding spaces or shadows. Well-lit with open spaces, the modern-style building looked quite distasteful to Hela. She pulled a face, both in annoyance and disgust,

Loki chuckled, “I’m glad you hate it too.”

“Shut up,” Hela hissed, before scurrying off further into the trees to explore the perimeter.

“Where are you- Hela!” Loki whispered hoarsely, hurrying after her.

She was looking for weak spots, places with no cameras, a spot to sneak in. But she also had no idea where you were, and with the vastness of the buildings she worried if she’d even find you on time.

“Hela,” Loki hissed. She shushed him again, eyes searching the upper floors.

“Hela!”

“What?”

“Look,” Loki pointed downwards. A little further in the distance outside, surrounded by well lit lights, stood you and that iron-armoured man, both with wooden sticks in your hands, the length of a short blade, thick enough to wrap your whole hand around it.

“Come on, let’s go back, before they see us,” Loki hissed, grabbing Hela’s shoulder. “At least we know she’s here.”

But Hela couldn’t move. You were wearing dark grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, and sturdy boots. You looked tired, but were a vision to her. The man with you wasn’t wearing his armour, and suddenly looked a lot less threatening.

Loki watched, amazed, as his sister’s armour shimmered. The horns disappeared from her head and her cape faded until she was only in black, blending into the darkness.

She dared another step closer.

“Widen your stance,” the man said, waving the stick around. “Now try to attack.”

Hela watched you practice, your grip a bit clumsy and your stance a bit wobbly, but you were determined. She recalled the day she pulled a fork on you as a weapon, and winced a bit at the memory of the fearful, defenceless look in your eyes.

“Like that?” she heard you say, bending your knees and lowering your core.

“Good, but stay light on your feet, otherwise you can’t dodge.”

Your voice was like music to her ears, and hot tears prickled at her eyes. She missed you. So much.

“Stark, what the hell are you trying to do?” two more men had appeared. One blonde, and large, wearing a tight shirt and jeans. The other, dark, dressed in similar casual clothes.

“Gentlemen! Welcome to this exclusive defence lesson.”

“You’re by far the worst defence teacher out of all of us, Stark. Y/N won’t learn shit from you.”

“You wound me, Captain.”

Hela watched you shake hands with the other.

“Oh, Y/N, this is our friend Rhodey, also known as the War Machine.”

“Pleased to meet you, despite the.. unideal circumstances,” the newcomer shook your hand respectfully and flashed a smile. Hela flared with jealousy, and subconsciously bared her teeth.

“Easy,” Loki whispered.

The four of you paired up, you against Tony, but watching Captain’s instructions as he sparred with Rhodey.

You were not held under lock and key, and Hela worried a moment. Did you go willingly with them after all? Did you forget about her? Was it foolish to even attempt a rescue?

Your laugh rang into the night as Rhodey tackled a distracted Steve, and both dread and joy filled Hela’s heart.

“Okay, try again,” Tony encouraged you. You swung at him a few times as he blocked and dodged.

Then, you saw her in the darkness. A flash of green eyes, and Tony took your distraction to his advantage, swiping your leg from under you and you fell to the ground with a thud.

Hela nearly shot out of the tree line to protect you if Loki hadn’t stopped her. Then she heard a groan and chuckle coming from you,

“I told you I’d lose.”

“Don’t get distracted then, kiddo.” Tony held out his hand and hoisted you up. Hela growled at the camaraderie and slunk back in the shadows. “What were you looking at?”

He began to turn to follow your eyeline, and you paled,

“N-nothing! I- I was daydreaming.” He looked back at you.

“Not a good idea to daydream while fighting, Y/N,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not used to this, you know?”

“It’s about time you were taught,” Tony clapped your shoulder.

“You want to learn anything from the War Machine himself?” Steve asked, nodding at Rhodey.

“Oh, I-I’d love to. But, maybe tomorrow?” you suggested, desperately trying to avoid looking at Hela in the distance. “I’m quite.. tired.”

The men seemed to agree and chatted as they headed back into the building. Tony swiped at Steve as they walked, who promptly tugged the sparring stick from him.

You hurriedly looked around into the darkness, wanting to see another glimpse, hoping you didn’t imagine it. But when you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you worried if you really had gone insane.

Steve called after you, and your heavy feet carried you back inside to settle for the rest of the night.

A/N: Life is fucking INSANE. only a few chapters left for this!! Don’t ask me about the timeline alterations because me trying to make sense of the canon and trying to make it all fit is making my brain explode!! I hope you like it, love you all!!! Stay safeee

tag list: @midnight-lestrange @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill @gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901 @marvels-writings @jadewestwriter @thisisanexistentialcrisis

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ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is · 2 years

Note

Hi, Em! I’m pretty sure that I’m a Fe-Ti user (most likely an IFJ), but I get confused between Ni and Si. I’ll try to find some good examples:

⁃ I like routines (if it’s good, why should I change it?) and I don’t usually enjoy surprises, I prefer knowing everything beforehand;

- I’m obsessed with apps like goodreads/tv time. I love to have a goal and to keep a list of what I’m reading/watching at the moment. I love to see what my friends have on their lists as well, comparing their tastes to mine;

⁃ I work as a designer and I consider my projects “finished” if the idea of them is good enough. I don’t have a hard time dealing with details, but I don’t get stuck in them unnecessarily;

⁃ I’m quick to “judge” everything, especially people. I was hanging out with my friend once and we spotted a group of girls. One of them caught my attention and I told my friend that the girl was the “mean one”, even if there was nothing about her behavior proving it so far. A minute later, she made a rude comment to one of her friends. I can easily make mistakes judging everything like that, but I always trust my gut;

⁃ Still about my gut instincts; The other day, I was going out to have dinner with my family and there was a soccer match going on. I was wearing a green dress and, the moment my sister mentioned the game, I knew that my father would tell me to change my outfit because green was the main color of one of the teams (he would think it was dangerous for me to go to a public restaurant dressed like that). In the end, he really said it and I ended up wearing something else (I didn’t want to fight with him about that because I know he’s anxious and simply worries about everything). I still don’t know if this type of “feeling” is more Ni or Si related (since I was subconsciously associating his behavior with previous ones);

⁃ I can easily get stuck in my own head/my hobbies/interests and, then, fall into an inertia loop (talking to people and extraverting a little makes me feel a lot better);

⁃ When I get stuck in my own thoughts, I usually think about “my ideal life” and “my ideal self”. I love to entertain myself with this version of me (imagining how I’d be, what I’d do, how people would see me, their impressions of me, etc), but sometimes I can get way too stuck in daydreaming and forget to actually do something in real life to make these dreams come true.

I hope this isn’t way too long, thanks for you time!

Hi anon,

I am not sure from this, but I think high Fe makes sense and lean strongly towards high Si both for reasons of simple probability and because there's nothing that very clearly stands out as Ni and a few things that are stronger indicators of Si:

Most high Fe users prefer routines (as judgers tend to) and enjoy some degree of documentation of lists.

The part about finishing your design when you feel it's good enough feels practical and grounded in reality, and fits Si better than Ni idealism.

The part about judging people and knowing what your father will say fit with Fe and Si; this is a very concrete scenario rather than the broad thematic Ni. Similarly, the part about getting caught up in hobbies feels more about just aux Fe and introversion.

I think the part about the ideal self is too vague to really type; I believe most people have an idealized self and don't always do everything to achieve it, so it really depends on the details/extent there.

#mbti #isfj

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Text

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

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Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much.

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss.

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained.

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes.

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous.

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to?

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless.

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him.

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief.

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!”

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile.

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage.

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!”

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange.

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand.

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud.

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded.

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

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gifted-burnout-archive · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe and Wine

Word Count: 3.1K+

Author’s Note: So I have had this idea for literal months, one that I really wanted to write but never quite knew how to. So here it is! We started with fluff, we move on to angst, and there will be smut further down the line. Inspired a fair amount by the songs ‘Remeber that Night?’ by Sara Keys and ‘To Love Someone Else’ by Avery Lynch. Plus, Bobby deserves some fanfiction! Also, I know these are kinda short but I thought it would work best so don’t hate me pleaseeee.

Pairings: bobby/trevor wilson x reader - platonic!reggie and alex x reader - former luke x reader

Warnings: discussion of death, general angst, upsetting circumstances.

1999.

Bad habits are a hard thing to break. Doing something over and over, getting used to the action of it, deciding to take that thing out of your life entirely is a conscious and difficult decision. It’s why people fall back into bad relationships, or start smoking again, or pick up that extra tub of ice cream: breaking that habit when it didn’t feel so bad in the first place is hard. People like familiarity, people like to be comfortable, people like to be docile in their own lives.

Well, some people do.

But there is a flip side: when good habits are broken by external factors, they can be hard to retrieve, replaced by bad ones instead over overcome. The external factor varies, of course: moving to a new house can stop someone from exercising; a change of job can ruin a healthy sleep schedule; anxiety over test can stop someone eating.

The lost of a loved one can cause someone to cut of friends, family, places: everything and everyone that held them together.

It was Y/N’s first time back in Los Angeles since it happened.

The incident she never found the courage to speak about: that prompted her to pack her things and move to the other side of the country and live with her grandparents until she finished at college. The incident that forced her to make friends with strangers, to go to church every Sunday to keep good faith despite not even being Christian: and yet she had still arrived back where it started, standing on her parents’ porch, looking down towards the garage she hadn’t seen in years.

“You changed your hair.”

“You got famous…”

The young man walking up the driveway dressed how Y/N expected him to: gone were his hand-me-down too-baggy jeans and the black and white striped top he never seemed to take off, the leather vest jacket he had glued spikes onto the shoulders of. He had replaced it with suede shoes and a leopard print shirt, a hat perched atop his mess of hair like he was still in the southern hemisphere, not LA at Christmas.

“I brought wine. Old stuff, good stuff.” He said with a grin she couldn’t help but smile back to, though it was only ever so slightly. He suited his new look; he exuded an air of confidence that matched the person she had known four years and a half years before.

“Why are you here, Bobby?” Y/N finally asked, finally looked to her old friend, pulling out a cigarette case from her pocket, then a lighter, sitting a stick between her lips and lighting her face with the orange flame from the zippo. “Last I checked,” She said through the cigarette, inhaling before blowing out a stream of smoke. “You were in Sydney, on the big world tour.”

“I go by Trevor now, you know.” The young man corrected her, making his way along the driveway and bouncing up the porch steps, resting himself against the wooden railing beside her. When she offered the cigarette, he accepted, passing it back as wisps of smoke blew from his nose. “Your parents called me; said you were in town again…” He let out a sigh, looking over at the girl he knew, her face lit by the Christmas lights the family had wrangled onto the front lawn’s bushes. “Do you really not want me here?”

“Of course I do.” Y/N replied, her eyes drifting back towards the garage. “I just… I don’t know if I can even go close to it anymore.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her body tense until bobby’s arm came over her shoulders and pulled her close, the taller boy hugging her from behind. They stayed that way for a few minutes, swaying a little when the breeze demanded it, sharing the cigarette and another in mutual silence, all while her parents let Cliff Richards play in the kitchen beyond the front door.

“We said we’d all spend this Christmas in that garage, no matter what happened, remember?” Bobby reminded Y/N of the reason she had even travelled back home in the first place: to fulfil a promise she had made to her friends all those years ago. “1994, we were all 17… We made the promise to one another to spend Christmas together five years from then.”

“They didn’t keep their half of the promise, Bobby.”

“How do you know?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before breaking their embrace, turning Y/N so they stood side by side, his arm coming over her shoulder as she smoked the last of the cigarette, his other hand still holding the rather pricey bottle of red an assistant had recommended before he got on the plane. “We do this together… I have a feeling they may just be waiting for us there…”

Bobby’s words, and his height, weight and strength advantages, caused Y/N to let herself be dragged down her old driveway in defeat, shuffling in a pair of old house shoes her mom used to wear, the rest of her still dressed up in the more fanciful attire she had picked out for brunch with her mother that morning. His hand squeezed her shoulder, a comfort despite their years apart.

It was nice to know they were still friends after everything...

Bobby only let her go to open up the heavy garage door, handing the bottle of wine over to her before doing so, the wood creaking and groaning after years of disuse. Y/N screed the cap off the wine, taking a swig as she watched on, and attempt to calm her heart perhaps; it seemed to be racing a thousand miles a minute and faster with every inch wider the entrance to her garage got.

“Bobby-”

“Too late… It’s open.” Bobby cut in, the door wide enough for him to slip inside and flick on the light switch, the dim glow sparking Y/N’s curiosity as she followed him into long lost memories.

The room was almost exactly how the guys had left it those years before: blankets strewn over the couch; instruments sat, set up for the next band practise. The only difference seemed to be the excessive amount of dust that covered the furniture, and the deflated air mattress on the far side of the room. But there it was: under the flickering solo lightbulb, with air so thick it had Y/N taking another gulp of booze to wet her throat, the old studio.

“It feels like we’re 17 again, doesn’t it?” She managed to whisper, noticing Bobby in a similar state of awe from out the corner of her eye, him being the first to take a step further into the room, and another. She watched him walk through the furniture, the instruments: all the memories they had made in that little shack at the end of her driveway.

Y/N could see it all too, like a movie being played before her eyes. She saw the boys practicing until the early hours, constantly full of energy and life and adrenaline, no matter her parents’ half-hearted nags for them to abide by quiet hours. She could see nights of song writing on her family’s old patio furniture, takeout ordered in from the Chinese place two streets over. There was a constant sense of joy, of pure unfiltered happiness that came from their music, from the months they spent perfecting their first album and hustling for that fucking gig at the Orpheum.

In an instant Y/N’s subconscious smile turned to a frown. All the happiness was overshadowed by the weeks after; of nights spent sobbing into her pillow, of the three funerals they held within a week, of Bobby leaving when they needed each other most.

“Hey, hey.” Bobby’s worried words brought Y/N back from the daydream, his hands cupping her face as his thumbs swiped across her cheeks, collecting the tears she hadn’t noticed falling. “Are you alright, love?” He asked gently, lifting Y/N’s chin for their eyes to meet.

“I shouldn’t have come home… I should have stayed in Chicago at my job and worked through the holidays.” Y/N said quickly, through shallow breaths, her vision blurring. “I didn’t want to do this but I told myself I should. I didn’t want to do this again; I didn’t want to be here again…”

“Y/N…” Bobby pulled her into a hug, one hand holding her head, the other around her back, opting to rock back and forth slowly, gently, a trick he had learned when they were younger. The other guys never quite knew how to deal with someone crying, let alone a girl, and let alone Y/N. But Bobby did.

It wasn’t every year you changed decade, century and millennium, and Y/N and Bobby decided to call in the 2000s together.

They had been together since Christmas Eve, inseparable really. Bobby opted to stay in LA instead of head for the ball drop in New York, and he felt good about that choice: it meant more time with Y/N, to reconnect, to catch up on the lost years when he was touring the world and Y/N was getting her degree.

Her parents liked it, watching the pair laughing again at Christmas Dinner: it felt like the first time Y/N had laughed since it happened. They didn’t get in the pair’s way when they chose to clean up the garage, spending most of the limbo between Christmas and New Year dusting and vacuuming the shack at the end of the driveway, restoring it to something beyond its former glory.

They strung up lights, washed down the windows and added houseplants, and Bobby took on the heart-breaking job of tidying away the instruments that lay strewn around while Y/N focused on carpet cleaning, on high reach dusting, on anything but the still looming presence of the friends they had lost.

By New Year’s Eve, as Y/N’s parents informed the pair they were headed to their friends’ party, the garage was readied for a night of the two friends drinking: bottles of champagne had been bought, an old antenna tv had been set up to watch the countdown that would take place by the end of the hour. They both dressed up, Bobby in a suit, Y/N in a dress. She did her makeup, he polished his shoes, they styled their hair.

They deserved to have fun, to have something good again.

“And welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the 2000 Countdown! We are five minutes out, and the party is well underway!” The grainy picture on the tv spoke through crackles as Y/N and Bobby lounged on the couch watching, a champagne flute in each of their hands.

“It’s your turn to fix it.” Y/N smirked, gesturing to the television with glass in hand, the sudden gesture causing the liquid within to splash against her hand. “Oops!” She squeaked, the pair sharing a glance before bursting into giggles, both taking another sip of the alcohol. They had been drinking since the afternoon, and as midnight came ever closer the pair became extremely inebriated. It was for different reasons, of course: it was more than just to have fun and get drunk, they were both fighting the urge to run, to shut up the garage and never come back to it.

“Only because you look so darn cute in that dress, alright?” Bobby smiled with his words, pushing himself off the old couch and setting down his drink to fix the antenna. His eyes as he moved the metal rod were on Y/N, watching her reactions to the screen’s picture, stopping when her eyes widened and she smiled wide. “Got it?”

“I love this song!” Y/N exclaimed once the sound came back, some band Bobby hadn’t heard of playing for that particular news channel’s New Year Bash, the only channel they had managed to find after a solid 70 minutes of searching earlier that night. She jumped from her chair, putting her own drink, the slow beat and sweet melody not assisted by the terrible sound quality on the box, but good enough for her to offer a hand to Bobby.

“You know, if you’re not careful I’ll sweep you off your feet.” Bobby teased as one hand landed on her waist, the other taking her hand in his as her second held his shoulder.

They didn’t do much dancing, more swaying to the song as Y/N sang along with the lyrics, her head pressed to his chest, his senses overcome with the scent of her shampoo. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, their eyes closed, they stayed like that through that song and the next. Just holding one another, just being there, the way they wanted to be.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5…” The tv counted them down, Bobby moving a half inch back and letting go of Y/N’s hand to lift her chin. Their eyes met. “4, 3,2 ,1.”

Their lips colliding with the announcement of the New Year was soft, and desperate and sweet. Y/N’s lips were soft against Bobby’s, the heat of his body radiated and blocked out the chills of the cold LA night. His hands came to her cheeks, cupping them as the kiss heated up, the pair stumbling back and into the heavy doors. She kissed him back for a moment, allowing herself the chance to have fun, to feel something other than grief.

But it was short lived.

“Bobby-”

“I’ve been waiting years to do that… I even brought along mistletoe on Christmas. I chickened out, of course but-”

“Bobby.” Y/N said again, louder that time, stopping the man in front of her in his excited rambling. He looked in her eyes, his smile fading when he saw her frown.

“Why not?” He asked before she had a chance to refuse him: he had expected something like it happening as a worst case, of course he had… But this wasn’t meant to happen. “We’re good together, aren’t we? Hasn’t the last week proved that?”

“I’m saying no, Bobby. Can’t you just leave it at that?” Y/N found herself snapping at him, moving from his hold and towards the centre of the room again, downing her champagne glass in one go.

“What did I do wrong? Whatever it is I’ll fix it, Y/N.” Bobby’s words were sincere, a promise to amend anything she asked of him, but her face stayed deadpan as her hands switched from the glass to drinking straight from the bottle.

“Nothing.”

“Then why don’t we give this a shot?!” Bobby demanded, the short fuse on his temper gone. Y/N wasn’t shocked by it, in fact she was angry at herself just as much as Bobby was. “Because I don’t understand how we’ve gone by years and years of grieving and we can’t choose to be happy now! I don’t get why I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen and you won’t even give us a fucking trial run or something, Y/N!”

“Because of him!”

“Because of who?”

“Luke!”

Silence hung heavy in the air, nearly suffocating the pair as they faced off, Bobby stood by the doors and Y/N stood by the booze. The moment the name left her mouth, tears slipped over, running down her cheeks and ruining the makeup she had worked so hard on earlier that evening.

“Luke?” Bobby asked, his expression clearly one of astonishment as he processed the information. He walked over, until they stood at dancing distance again, and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“We were dating. Four months.” She confessed with a shaky breath, the relief lifting the dead weight from her shoulders. “We didn’t want to say anything: he and Alex had just finished; I didn’t want to ruin the friendships over something so little…” She paused, stepping back from Bobby. “I didn’t want to come here. I never wanted to come back home, because I knew he’d be here. They’re all here, just watching on, knowing how much I screwed up my life after they went… Bobby, I…”

“Y/N.”

“Don’t fucking pity me!” She snapped again, the raising of her voice causing Bobby to back up, to take a seat on the couch as she began to pace. “He just left. Everything with the Orpheum gig meant we didn’t say goodbye that morning, when you all headed out. It was so instantaneous, so easy… He was just gone. I loved him and he just left, and I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces since and every time I get close I drop the all again, and they scatter, and I have to start all over.” She explained through tears and quick steps, stopping only to gauge his reaction and frown. “Don’t look at me like that. God, I hate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Bobby asked, defensive, having done his best to just listen to what she had to say.

“Like I’m 17 again and attending funerals every other day!” Y/N yelled. “Like you need to fix me!”

“What if I can though?” Bobby suggested, standing up from the couch. “What if we fix each other here? You didn’t go through that alone, Y/N.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be fixed, Bobby.” She stated decidedly, eyes cold as she fumbled for her cigarette case from her dress pocket.

“You’d rather mop over someone who died five years ago than be with me?” The words were ones of hurt, of disbelief, of anger and sadness and something else Y/N didn’t want to discover. Tears stung her eyes.

“I’m not saying that I-”

“He wasn’t some fucking saint!” Bobby yelled, cutting her off in an attempt to make her see sense. “Y/N! You’ve clearly got some image, some fantasy in your head about Patterson that differs from fucking reality!” He reminded her of their dead friend’s faults quite happily, and Y/N slammed down the champagne bottle.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” She countered. “It’s a shame that only I know you stole his entire fucking song catalogue!”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true, after all. He had reasoned that letting the music go unheard was stupid, selfish even, when he had the means and talent to release it to the world. He had told himself it was good, what he was doing, and for a moment he pondered if it was a mistake.

“To think I gave up New Year’s in New York for this shit…” He muttered, watching Y/N light a cigarette with shaky hands. He ran his own through his hair, taking a heavy sigh as Y/N processed his words.

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

“And don’t ever contact me again, Trevor.” She added, the smoke trailing from her lips as he marched out. Leaving her alone in her memories, without friends or hope for any sort of future.

Alone on New Year’s, with bad habits she couldn’t break and haunted memories of a life she might have had.

Tags (same as last time ish because i am lazy... oops.): @reggiesleatherjacket @parkeret @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @delicatelukepatterson @lukespatterson @kcd15 @siennanoelle01 @eries45 @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @reggieandthereggies @writerinlearning @mjflower @uhmitstori @walkingonshunshine @kristencoontz @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ritz-hell-hotel @mishappend @dovegranger @dmcfarland1 @cherrymaybank @oswinsleaf @only-here-for-jatp @jatpfan99 @n0wornever @bookdealer5 @epikskool @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv @korydickson @uglypeachh @rogersangel @independentgirl @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance @heimdoodle @-episkey- @obxmermaid @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @simp4madi @aliciameix @kinda-just-chillin-here @blueyed-one @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter

what comes next? wait and see

#abby's twelve days of christmas #bobby wilson x reader #jatp bobby x reader #luke patterson x reader #jatp luke x reader #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp alex #jatp reggie #alex mercer #reggie peters #angst

151 notes · View notes

utterlyhopeful-fics · 3 years

Text

Love on the Line - Part 6

A/N: It’s finally here!!!

MASTERLIST P1 P2 P3 P4 P5

Henry Cavill x Reader

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: heartache, language, angst, a pinch of lovey dovey fluff, cliffhanger

*****************************

“Ohhh myy god…it’s official. This is the best burger of my life, hands down.”

What could easily be perceived as orgasmic music delightfully made its way to his ears. Seb chuckled studying the beautiful girl across from him admiring her combination of burger grease, ketchup, and mustard staining her chin. Y/N was too lost in the delicious meal to notice Seb gleefully watching her. In an instant his hand wiped away the condiment catching Y/N by surprise. She smiled bashfully blushing.

“Told you I knew a place.”

She sighed genuinely happy in them moment; “I could die a happy girl tomorrow because of this sweet, juicy perfection of a burger. All thanks to you.”

“What can I say? I have good taste.”

“And how did you run across this wonderous joint? Kinda feels off the beaten path.”

“Well, when you fly as much as me you learn to ask around. I never trust the internet when it comes to what I put in my body. I like to know what and where the locals scavenge for a tasty meal.”

“You continue to surprise me …I admire your style, Seb. Original, classy, and you no doubt just about charm the pants off any person who walks your way.”

“Is it working now?” He flashed his most flirtatious smile devouring another sweet potato fry.

Quick on her feet, she shot back with wit and attitude; “Should it be?”

“I gotta say Y/N, I’ve never been happier to wake someone up on a plane until I met you.”

“Damn, you’re suave, Seb. Fucking suave.”

Her eyes bulged from their sockets at her crude choice of words; “Shit, I’m sorry. Ah, fuck.”

His laugh flew through the air like wind on a crisp fall evening; her cheeks flushed.

“I’m not usually such a sailor. Guess you bring out the best in me.”

“I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I kinda like that I fluster you if I’m being honest.”

“So smooth. Are you sure you’re not from LA? I get the sense that’s a requirement in these parts?”

He shook his head in stark disagreement; “Nope, sorry to disappoint you. Just a common foreigner.”

“And a handsome one at that.”

Shocked at her boldness, Y/N stared down at the remnants of food moving her fries as a distraction from his adorable gaze.

“I haven’t felt this at ease in …well I can’t remember. It’s nice.”

“Couldn’t agree more. I never actually asked what brings you here?”

Seb nervously scratched the back of his head; “Uh, work. Like I said, I travel pretty frequently. Hollywood is a hub of sorts for me. What brings you here?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take the hint and pry later. Well, I’m a writer and some big exec wants to discuss the rights to my book series. So, yeah.”

“Y/N, that’s amazing! Are you secretly a super hero, part of the Avengers maybe?”

“Hahah, flattery will certainly get you far. No doubts there.”

“You’re too kind, Y/N. I’m definitely far from perfect.”

“Good. Perfection is overrated. Flaws are attractively imperfect. I mean at the end of the day we’re only human.”

“Consider me intrigued. I’ve gotta stop by a bookstore and check you out now!”

“Oh, hush! If you must know, I try to keep a low profile. So, uh, how long are you here for?”

“A couple days. I’ve got a bit of free time after my meeting tomorrow and thinking of hitting some trails while I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, LA is cool and all, but kinda suffocating. I try and maintain my distance if possible.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir. The hustle and bustle of London is the literal definition of overwhelming. Countryside getaways were my one true savior. Sometimes London feels like an overpacked sardine can just waiting to explode.”

“So why did you stay?”

Y/N bit her lip trying to keep quiet. She hadn’t once though of Henry since meeting Seb. The lump in her throat appeared by just the mere mention of her subconscious. A part of her wasn’t ready to reveal the ache left beneath her exterior.

“Friends and family. What else ties a person to one place?”

“Love? A relationship?”

His coyness was flattering. She gave into his curiosity.

“Are you asking if I’m single?” Her feigned expression was enough to send him into a fit of harmonious laughter.

“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on your answer, I guess. Part of me believes you’re too good to be true which usually means taken.”

“HA, no. Relationships and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Ah, sounds like heartbreak hotel is just around the corner….”

“I recently got out of a long-term relationship. So, to answer your question; Yes, I’m single and so not ready to mingle.”

“Are you assuming I’m hitting on you?” His shocked appearance made her question their entire encounter and if she’d been reading the signs wrong all along.

“Well, good thing I’m only here for the coffee and platonic company, hm?”

Seb raised his mug in salute as her stress magically melted away; “Break-ups suck. But allow for a real opportunity to see who you really are. Pain can be a bitter reminder of sadness and strength.”

“Wow, philosophizing so soon into our newly found friendship? A man after my own heart!”

Y/N playfully placed her hand over her heart, smiling for particular reason.

“How about if you’re interested and only 100% positive you aren’t sick of my company; we do dinner or even drinks? Whichever the lady chooses.”

Seb motioned in jest. Y/N tried to remember the last time she’d felt so carefree unable to pin down an exact memory. For far to long Y/N trapped herself in a fog allowing Henry to rule over her even when he wasn’t physically there. It had to stop, she had to quit placing him on a pedestal if she had any luck of moving on from their failed love affair. One torturous long minute passed as Seb’s nerved ramped up.

“Shit, I’m that weird dude, now. Forget I asked and let’s chalk it up to an amazing afternoon as strangers who leave this diner and head back to our own separate lives without consequence?”

Again, Y/N was speechless contemplating what she truly wanted to do next.

“First things first, stop blubbering, you seriously are ungodly handsome. And on second note, our chance meeting was unexpected but kinda sorta awesome. I’d love to see you again. I can’t recall the last time I’ve felt so free…and don’t even get me started on the belly aches due to your comedic skills.”

“Damn, a woman that speaks her mind. Are you sure you’re not in politics?”

“Nope, never, no thank you. Sooo, it’s a date?”

Seb furrowed his eyebrow in pleasant surprise; “You said it, not me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes; “Yeah, yeah. What do the kids say nowadays…. YOLO?”

“Yes, and please never say that again.”

A napkin holder was placed strategically resting against the window sill. Seb signaled to their middle-aged waitress; “Pardon me, do you have a pen handy?”

“Course, darling. Anything for ya.” She winked dropping the pen on the edge of the checkered table leaving them to privacy. He scribbled his number on the grainy piece of paper and slid it her way.

“I’ll leave the ball in your court and pass the privilege of reaching out to confirm details.”

“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead? Obviously not in Romania.”

“What fine establishment do they have you shacking up in?”

“Chateau Marmont. Long story short, my publisher fully embraces and understands my introverted nature and love of historical hotels. Call me an oddball.”

“Oddball.”

They snickered like school children slowly understanding their time was coming to a close. A power, a force of sorts gravitated Y/N towards him. He felt the same way.

“I happen to think women who especially history buffs are so incredibly magnificent. I haven’t met many as beautiful as you.

Their flirtation skyrocketed like flicks of fire firing between them.

“Knowledge is like your super power…. also, intelligent women are a complete turn on.”

She swatted his arm smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off.”

He offered his hand helping Y/N to her feet. She lingered a second too long. With Seb a couple steps behind her, she missed the clinch of his fists and Seb’s reddened cheeks.

---The Next Day---

No luxury was forgotten as Y/N observed her decadent hotel room, but no matter how comfortable the memory foam or high thread count sheets, Y/N tossed restlessly the whole night. Her anxieties attacking her mind at every possible angle. Worry engulfed her clutching on her own insecurities. Her fear?

That she’d walk into David Fincher’s office and leave very humiliated and very far from home. Henry’s ghost loitered just out of reach. A ghost can be many a thing; a memory, a daydream, a secret, but most times, a wish. Old or new. But that was the past, memories she must let go of.

Y/N stared at the ceiling wishing her bed to open up and swallow her whole finally dozing off to her temporary dreamland. But sunlight painted the walls like a colorful painting. She stretched and moaned at the sensations of her waking bones.

Making her way to the bathroom, Y/N’s phone chimed forcing her to circle back towards the obnoxious device.

Seb: Buna dimineata prietene! (Good Morning, friend)

Y/N: Romanian? So early in the morning. How dare you sir?

Blinking dots ran across the screen as Y/N waited impatiently for his witty response.

Seb: Never too early for greatness. As they say in the theater, break a leg! But not an actual leg because I might be looking forward to our date. Okay, good luck with the meeting!

Y/N: Thanks for the good juju. Same to you! Call you later.

She unconsciously rubbed at the tender swell in her chest, the fluttering in her belly kicking wildly. Butterflies. It’d been ages since she’d been this excited and it surprised Y/N. Maybe she was ready for something more…Y/N shook her head ridding herself of such silly thoughts. She knew better than to rush full steam ahead.

---Later that day---

The fourteenth floor was decorated to architectural perfection. Every space had its purpose and the décor elegantly stylish. There she stood in the presence of cinematic greatness! As Y/N was about to pinch herself, she heard an echo of a name. Looking up, she searched for the unknown voice before landing on an enthusiastic figure waving her direction.

“Y/N! So nice to finally see you in person. I’m Meg.”

“Meg, so glad to put a face to a name. Thank you for having me.”

Both women walked down a hallway lined of glass walls smiling at those who looked up.

“David has talked nonstop about your series. So much so that I ended up devouring your books in three days. You’re freaking brilliant!”

“You really think so? I worked my ass off to get it through any publishing house. I was on the verge of chucking my ideas in the trash and getting an actual job that paid real money if it wasn’t for a last-ditch effort.”

“I’ve blocked off a thirty-minute window before his next meeting begins. He’s booked back-to-back today but by no means feel rushed. He hates when I push him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Her head bobbed nonchalantly taking notice of the stunning scenery from the 17th level.

“Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Best of luck, Y/N.”

Meg knocked; “Come in!”

“David, this is Y/N.”

“Thanks, Meg. Close the door behind ya, we’ve got loads to discuss.”

David extended his hand towards Y/N’s shaking firmly. Y/N reminded herself to breath and to quickly find her manners.

She stuttered trying to remember common speech causing David to laugh aloud.

“Ms. Y/N, you okay?”

“Yyess—just a tad shell shocked. I mean, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with the David Fincher. Unbelievable, really. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You wrote one hell of a series that I trust can be transferred stunningly over to the silver screen where it can be fully appreciated. I’ve never seen someone mold together so many genres with such ease yet adding a layer of complexity. You, young lady, kept me guessing every twist and turn. That doesn’t happen too often if you catch my drift.”

“I-I, it’s just nice all those late-night writing sessions and waiting tables paid off. I’ll have you know I was on the verge of giving it all up and going back to school.”

“So, let’s get down to details. My team and I have come up with an offer that is totally open for negotiations.”

David slid a piece of paper into view. Y/N stared at the parchment gob smacked. Her jaw fell open at the written proposal.

“Holy shit.” Her eyes snapped up at her vulgar language; “Shit! I don’t mean to be impolite.”

“Ha, it’s a bit flabbergasting upon first glance but I promise you I want to do everything in my power to make this work for both parties.”

“Am I…am I reading this correctly?”

“Indeed, $10 million for the first two films, advancing to an additional $13, $15, $17 million for the last three. Of course, aiding us in the writer’s room to make sure we bring your story to live through your eyes. This will undoubtfully increase book sales across the board, I’d say upwards of $60 million if all goes accordingly. Also, I didn’t forget about making you an executive producer.”

“You’re kidding me, riight? Am I dreaming?”

“You’re gonna be a big deal once the tabloids get their sticky fingers on this. I mean this is going to skyrocket you to the likes of Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins status. I mean, I had to outbid Peter Jackson just for a chance at directing this masterpiece. Darling, you’re all Hollywood can talk about right now.”

“Wow, I’m, uh, seriously grateful. I guess I’ve been shacking up in London far too long. I don’t really read celeb gossip so needless to say I’ve been in my own bubble.”

“A huge thank you goes out to Henry Cavill for pitching the initial idea. He helped get the recognition you deserve. Nice fellow, that one.”

Momentary shock came over her face, mouth still agape; “He—Henry had a hand in this?”

“Most certainly. He was the one who brought it to my attention. Of course, he mentioned the desire to work with me was motivation enough, but genuinely, he seemed passionate about the project.”

“I-I had no idea.” Switching gears as fast as possible Y/N trotted forth; “So realistically, when can we get the ball rolling?”

“Once the proper documents are signed and stamped, we’re good to go. If negotiations aren’t necessary, I’d say within the next month or so we can start casting calls, booking air fare, figuring out destination shoots, getting a manuscript going. It comes together faster than people think. How about this; you mull it over, call whoever you need, and get back at me in the next couple of days. Sound good?”

“Sounds more than good! I think I’ll be forever be in your debt, Mr. Fincher.”

“Please, call me David. We have a long road ahead of us that has truly stoked a fire in me, all thanks to you.”

Her nerves triumphed pushing Henry to the back of her mind. Y/N had bigger fish to fry.

“May I be frank with you, David?”

“By all means.”

“As you probably know Henry’s my ex-fiancée. Is it true you’re possibly considering him for the lead role?”

David looked around quizzically composing himself.

“I figured we’d have to address the elephant in the office. Yes, I was aware and I didn’t consider him to be malicious. He’s a genius actor and I figured it was worth a chat. But if you’re worried about anything, just say the word.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize his successes. I agree, he’s an untapped actor full of surprising talent. I’ll be okay.”

“You promise?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Rest assured he isn’t even in the country. Believe he’s still galivanting about London.”

Silently pleading to change the subject, Y/N snapped out of it as quickly as she flew in to.

“This is a dream come true. I’m really looking forward to working with you and bringing my story to life.”

The squeaky hinge of the door alerted her to Meg’s foreboding presence. Taking a cue, Y/N stood up shaking David’s hand beaming like a child on Christmas Eve.

“I’ll be in touch, Y/N. Until then, enjoy your stay. Venture out. You’ll find LA isn’t all plastic and bullshit.”

“Oh, thank god. For a second I was getting nervous.”

“Haha! Meg, next appointment here?”

“Yes, he’s right around the cor--.”

“Y/N?”

She searched for the familiar voice unable to pin it down.

“Seb!? Wha...what are you doing here? I thought you had that big meeting today?”

“Uh, I do. That’s why I’m here.”

Sebastian nervously scratched his neck. Bewildered and thoroughly confused Y/N pushed on; “Wait a minute…. Are you an ...?”

“Actor, yes.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa. Wait.”

“Holy shit. You’re Shirley Lovecraft. Catchy pseudo name. So, you’re the brains behind this witty madness. What an interesting turn of events if I do say so myself, a happy one.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Kinda embarrassing.”

“Don’t. A perfect afternoon with someone who wasn’t using me for fame or money? Did I mention you look breathtaking today?”

Her cheeks fumed with heat stirring her butterflies back to life. Seb’s hand stilled on her waist unwilling to let go as they continued gazing at the other.

“Earth to Seb?

Seb broke eye contact first glancing over at David. Y/N was too busy memorizing the glimmer of his cobalt blue eyes.

“Yes, ah! So rude of me. Hello there, so great of you to squeeze me in. I appreciate it.”

He directed his attention towards Y/N once more leaning close to the shell of her ear; “Still on for drinks later?”

“Definitely.”

His wink sparked a jolt to her core leaving her weak in the knees. Somehow, some way, Y/N mustered enough confidence to walk without tripping. She glowed the whole walk to the elevator. Y/N pressed the button too lost in thought to hear the quiet ding of arrival strolling straight into a hard chest. Enormous hands grasped her shoulders; “Oh! Apologies Ms.”

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying atten—oh shit.”

Only one particularly charming British accent that could send a chill down her spine, one very distinguishable voice indeed.

“Y/N?”

Time froze icily still.

“What the fuck? Henry??”

~~~~~~~~~~

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