summary: In which bob floyd gets himself into a bit of a pickle and calls on his hot, recently single neighbor to help him out, the situation is mutually beneficial..in more ways than one.
this is an x reader fic where reader is referred to as sunshine or sunny as a nickname, also i know the moodboard is a lil wonky no one say anything im gonna fix it! i made it on my phone half asleep lmao.
comment below for taglist!
wordcount: 2260
PART ONE - THE LIE.
The music was soft in the background for once, his friends laughter the loudest thing in the room. Bob couldn’t help but to laugh along with them as he took a swig of his third beer of the night, a little more than tipsy but not completely drunk. He knew he was a lightweight, and this was the only time he ever preferred to drink, in the comfort of his own home surrounded by people he trusted. His friends were all gathered around his coffee table, some of them on the couch, some of them sprawled on the floor as they laughed and goofed off, the NHL game they had all gathered to watch together no longer a top priority.
Bradley and Natasha had been talking about the blind dates they had been on recently, set up by each other, each of them pointing out the flaws in the others choosing with racious laughter as they knocked back their alcohol and made a mess of Bob’s coffee table as they playfully fought each other, Bradley flipping over the bowl of potato chips that was sat out as he kicked his leg across the table from the floor to hit his friend. Bob laughs at the scene, not minding the mess because the situation was just so funny and he was for once in his life, enjoying being in the moment.
“Look what you did, numbnuts! You spilled all the chips!” Hangman shouts, tossing his couch pillow at them from where he lay on the love seat across from Bob. Bradley catches it mid-air and tosses it back to Jake, a terrible throw and a clear enough window into how drunk he is because it doesn’t get any air and knocks clear into the row of open bud lights, knocking them over and causing what was left to slosh out onto the floor. Javy groans, slipping out of the chair he was sat in to pick up the bottles as Bob gets up to get a towel to sop up the wet beer from his outrageously expensive rug so his little shih tzu, Cosie wouldn’t go licking it up when he passed out tonight.
He was only gone for a few moments but by the time he came back the subject of dating had suddenly been turned to him. He shakes his head, trying not to think to hard about how he was way more than tipsy by that point because the whole room started to spin when he did that. “No, not dating right now.” He says, kneeling down to start cleaning up the mess as Javy comes back from throwing away the bottles.
Jake scoffs from next to him taking a long drag of his own beer, and Bob braces himself for whats coming next. “Of course not,” He says, a small bit of disdain in his tone, but Bob knew it was all just friendly teasing, even if it did hurt him. Even if he was so tired of constantly hearing from everyone about how he needed to get out into the dating pool. Truthfully, he was tired of being single, but he didn’t need these jack offs meddling in his love life the way Natasha had been doing with her blind dates with girlfriends she’d made off base. It just didn’t work out for him, it never did.
But god, he was tired of hearing it from Jake about how he was ‘too afraid of girls’ to actually go out and date one, they were grown ass adults, weren’t they? Why did it matter what he did with his personal life outside of work and the friend group? He didn’t like to date around, he liked relationships. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of girls either. That one was starting to piss him off, wither away at that self control that his mama swore he was born with too much of. Not that any of them needed to know that..so why then, did he feel like proving them all wrong?
He knew in the back of his drunk mind that his next choice of words was not a good one to make, and he had just dug himself into a terribly deep hole that would haunt him for the rest of his life (good god he would probably have to change placements if they ever fucking found out, or better yet, retire from the navy altogether). But Lord help him, he opened his mouth anyway and let the words out.
“I don’t think my girlfriend would like me seeing other people.” He says, taking a kind of sick pleasure in hearing Jake snort beer out of his nose as he sits up so quickly he falls off of the couch, his words catching the attention of his other friends too. “What?” He asks, looking around at all of their gaping faces. He regretted his lie immediately. “Is it so hard to picture me with a girlfriend? I am capable of getting one, you know.” A dig at Jake just for the fucking fun of it.
There was a long moment of silence before all of their voices were flooding his ears at once, questions coming from all directions. It was almost as if the news had shocked them sober.
What did I just do?
THE WEEK PREVIOUS-
Sunshine Y/L/N, was many things, a bitch, a whore, a liar, a psycho (all depending on which of her ex-boyfriends and family members you asked),..but a fool was not one of them. You were not foolish enough to let a man raise a hand to you and cower away and accept his apology because you thought you deserved it or because it would placate him. And so when the asshole you had been in the midst of arguing with because he swore to god that you were fucking the bouncer at work (you would never, you weren’t in to bald men who looked like broke versions of mr. clean) cocked his arm back and slapped you across the face so hard that blood splattered from your nose, you clenched a fist and let all hell break loose.
You had screamed, and screamed and screamed and had thrown anything that you could get hands on, drawing blood on his forehead as an empty flower vase shattered against the wall that she shared with her neighbor. “Look what you did, you crazy bitch!” He yelled, holding a hand to his forehead, offended that you had dared to retaliate against him.
You sucked in a deep breath, fists clenching. There was nothing you hated more than being called crazy. You were not crazy. You were not fucking crazy. “Get out.” You breathed, a surprisingly steady hand pointing towards the door that was being banged on from an outside source. The man looks at you as if you were a bull with three heads. “Are you deaf? I said get the fuck OUT!” You had bellowed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him to the door, it took all of three seconds to throw open the chain locking the door before tossing the sorry fucker out, straight into your neighbor, Bob, who had very obviously been banging on the door.
“Woah-” The tall, lanky man had said, catching the rat bastard who had been flung out at him. He pushes him off of him, noticing the blood on his face and looks at you, the blood streaming from your nose. “Are you okay?” He asks, his immediate thought on his neighbor as watched the guy storm off towards the stairwell at the end of the hallway.
You sniffed, jaw clinched as you nod, watching the jerkoff walk away before running back inside. Bob follows as you yank open the window in the living room before running back down a hallway, to the bedroom he assumed. Bob had looked around at the mess of glass and blood splatters on the floor, wondering what the fuck had taken pace. He had heard yelling, and glass shattering and had run over trying to open the door. “Mother fucker, DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK HERE!” You scream, tossing a heap of clothes out of the window and down onto the street, Bob heard a mans yell and knew they must’ve landed directly on the offending asshole. “Stupid fucking son of a fucking bitch.”
“Um, Sunny,” Bob says, placing a gentle hand on your slender shoulder. You were shaking, with fear or anger he isn’t sure but he wants to help. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t know what else to ask, what else to do. He’d never been in this kind of situation before.
He watches you raise a hand and use the back of it to wipe your bloody nose before turning around to face him, your friendly neighbor whose dog you often watched when he had to work overnights at the base or when he had been on his deployment for the uranium mission. Blood smeared across your upper lip and cheek as you look up at him, eyes watery and full of an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. The smile on your face is terrifyingly sexy. “Just peachy, bobby,” You whispered, blinking the tears in your eyes away as you set your shoulders squarely. “My step-daddy didn’t raise no fucking bitch, a man like him wants to hit me, he better be prepared for me to hit him back ten times fucking harder.”
Bob didn’t know what to say, so he resulted for saying a simple okay and stayed around to help you clean up the mess that littered your normally spotless living room. He had even ordered you pizza while you were in the bathroom cleaning up your face, paying for it without telling you because he knew you would argue. He knew you made good money in your line of work, he knew you liked paying for your own things, but he was a gentleman nonetheless and wanted to take care of a neighbor who was clearly in some kind of need of support. He had stayed until you had fallen asleep, silently letting himself out of your apartment and the pair of you hadn’t crossed paths until a week later, granted, you hadn’t left your apartment much (you couldn’t very well go to work with a bruise on your face, it certainly wouldn’t bode well with your bosses nor with your customers) for your paths to have crossed to begin with.
You were surprised to say the least when a knock sounded on your apartment door early in the morning on Saturday, and even moreso when you opened to find none other than your adorable next door neighbor (and, in a way, your savior) standing in your doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a cute little crease in between his eyebrows as he looked up at you from where he was looking at his shoes. “Hey Bob, everything okay?” You ask, wiping the sweat away from your forehead. You had been doing an intense pilates session in your living room, a good way to keep you limber and fit for your job. “Are you going on deployment or something? Do you need me to take Cosie?”
“No, no..” Bob shakes his head, he felt stupid for coming over here, for not just immediately fessing up to his friends about his dumb lie. He should just turn around and go back to his apartment and call it a day, and he was going to until his fuckin’ phone buzzed in his pocket and he was reminded of why he had told the damn lie in the first place. “Um, actually, do you think I could come in? I have a favor to ask of you, and it’s..a big one.”
You were confused but allowed him to come in nonetheless, shutting and locking the door behind him as he did. What could he possibly need from you that wasn’t watching his dog while he was away? You couldn’t say you weren’t keen to find out, you were bored out of your mind and you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed from you of all people. Bob had literally seen you at your worst last week, and yet here he was inside of your apartment with his hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his boot cut jeans, his pretty eyes flitting about, finding anything to look at that wasn’t your breasts that were pushed up in your slightly too small lulu lemon top.
“What’s up, Bobby?” You asked, headed to your kitchen that over looked the living room. You grabbed a bottle of water out of your slowly emptying fridge and twisted open the cap, taking a hefty sip.
“Um..” He says, his lips pursing as his eyebrows furrow together somehow even deeper. He blows air out of his nose and finally looks up at you, taking his hands out of his pockets only to place them on his hips, awkwardly. “I need you to be my girlfriend.” He says and you snort your water out of your nose on accident, choking on it at the first mention of the words as you tried to process them. “Oh fuck-”
hii omg i finally did this im so happy with this there's an angst version as well bc who doesnt like some good ol' angst from time to time
also the other version was released early bc im stupid so ty to @berryzxx for reminding me (i just want a reason to tag you)
pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader
warnings:fluffff arguments (oohOOHOoH) swearing, not so fake dating (but are they?), the and y/n being idiots, not a happy ending, not proof read (as usual) and my writing
summary: being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. you, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to theodore nott.
angst is hereeee
reblogs with tags are always appreciated mwah
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: angst
The tension between you and Theo had been brewing for days, each passing moment adding weight to the unspoken emotions that hung heavily in the air. Unable to bear the silence any longer, you initiated the conversation, the frustration and confusion evident in your voice.
"Theo, can we talk?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and determination.
He glanced up from his book, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. "Sure, what's up?"
"It's about us," you began cautiously, the words feeling heavier than you'd anticipated. "I feel like there's something here, between us. But I'm confused about where you stand."
Theo's expression flickered, a fleeting mixture of uncertainty and conflict clouding his features. "I don't know if diving into a relationship right now is the best idea."
"But this isn't just about a relationship," you insisted, your voice rising in exasperation. "It's about acknowledging what's been brewing between us, Theo."
He sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm not sure what I want, Y/N. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" You scoffed, the frustration simmering within you. "What's so complicated about being honest?"
"Why can't you understand?" Theo's voice rose, mirroring your frustration. "I don't want to mess things up and end up causing you pain."
"You're not getting it!" Your voice echoed in the charged atmosphere. "I need to know where we stand, and your indecision isn't helping."
Theo's reluctance grated on your nerves, fueling the intensity of the argument. "I need you to be honest with me, Theo. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen!"
"I know, but I'm conflicted," he admitted, his tone wavering.
Frustration boiled within you. "Conflicted about what? Us?"
His gaze shifted away, a mix of guilt and concern clouding his features. "I... I don't want Jess to hurt you."
"I can handle Jess, she isn't your responsibility," you asserted firmly, the frustration simmering beneath your words.
"You don't get it, do you?" Theo's voice cut through the tension, edged with frustration. "She's MY ex."
His words stung, and the heat of the argument intensified. "And that gives you the right to dictate what's good for me?" you shot back, your voice rising in indignation.
"Look, I'm just trying to protect you," Theo retorted, his tone laced with urgency.
"Protect me? From what?" Your voice rose, the frustration boiling over. "I can handle my own affairs, Theo. I don't need you deciding what's best for me!"
The tension crackled between you, each word spoken a testament to the underlying emotions that had escalated into a heated argument. The clash of opinions and conflicting desires hung heavily in the charged atmosphere, leaving the potential relationship teetering on the edge of uncertainty. The anticipation in the room was suffocating.
Days stretched into weeks, and the awkward distance between you and Theo became the new norm. Despite the avoidance, every accidental encounter sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. Butterflies danced in your stomach, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you once shared, now lost in a fog of misunderstanding.
Each time your paths crossed, the unresolved tension simmered beneath the surface. The silent longing for resolution battled with the ache of hurt and confusion, leaving you caught in a turmoil of emotions whenever Theo came into view.
The avoidance hadn't dulled the effect he had on you. His presence was still magnetic, drawing your attention despite the unspoken rift that divided you both. The simple sight of him evoked a rush of emotions, a testament to the bond you once shared and the rift that now tore you apart.
With every passing moment, the yearning for clarity clashed with the fear of confronting the situation, leaving you entangled in a web of unresolved emotions and unspoken apologies, the butterflies a painful yet undeniable reminder of the connection you couldn't seem to sever.
Summoning your courage, you approached Theo's dorm, determined to offer an overdue apology. A hesitant knock resulted in eerie silence. Unsure of Theo's whereabouts, you glanced around the deserted hallway, your resolve mingling with uncertainty.
Taking a tentative step forward, you reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. The decision to enter felt both intrusive and necessary. The room was devoid of life, the emptiness echoing the void that had developed between you and Theo.
Your gaze drifted to Theo's desk, where a single piece of paper lay. The handwriting was unmistakable, sending a jolt of emotions through you as you read the words:
Last night was so fun, so glad you dropped Y/N.
- Jess
Disbelief and a pang of deception ricocheted through you. The words were like a gut punch, shattering the fragile hope you had held for reconciliation and understanding. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you grappled with the apparent evidence before you.
Your mind raced, attempting to process the meaning behind Jess's note. It seemed to confirm your worst fears, undermining the fragile trust you had in the situation and leaving your heart aching with the weight of assumed betrayal.
With tear-filled eyes and a heavy heart, you turned away, the intention of offering an apology now replaced by a swirl of hurt. The unaddressed misunderstanding had taken root, poisoning the hope for amends and leaving you in a cloud of uncertainty and hurt.
After catching a glimpse of the note and feeling a surge of mixed emotions, you found yourself actively avoiding Theo. Days turned into a tense cycle of dodging encounters and deflecting questions, leaving Theo increasingly perplexed by your sudden distance.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Theo finally confronted you, his tone a blend of confusion and concern.
Your gaze wavered, torn between the urge to explain and the fear of facing the truth. "I just need some space," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, evading the heart of the matter.
Theo's expression shifted from confusion to hurt, his eyes clouded with the weight of your avoidance. "Did i do something wrong?" he pressed gently, hoping for a glimmer of understanding.
You hesitated, unsure how to voice the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you muttered, the words falling between you like an insurmountable barrier.
The tension between you was palpable, an unspoken rift widening with every passing moment of silence. The distance between you grew, leaving both of you stranded in a sea of unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.
Theo sensed your unease. "Hey, something's been off. What's going on?" he asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.
"Well..." you hesitated, before showing him the note, unaware that he didn't know about it. "She sent you that note?" Theo's voice edged with surprise and confusion.
"What! No," you replied hastily, caught off guard by his assumption, unaware he didn't have any knowledge of the note's existence.
Theo's eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. "I'm lost. What's happening?" he asked, completely unaware of the note you were holding, his confusion evident in his expression.
"You're being accused of cheating on me with Jess, but now I think you're being framed," you explained, your voice tinged with concern as you showed him the note.
"What? I would never! You know that!" Theo's words spilled out, shock and disbelief evident in his tone and expression.
His vehement denial resonated with the sincerity you knew so well, and a wave of relief washed over you. You knew him, knew his values, and believed in his loyalty.
"I love you, I'd never do anything to hurt you," he continued, desperation and honesty lacing his words as he took his face in his hands turning it to face him.
His earnest declaration struck a chord within you, dispelling some of the doubts that had clouded your mind. You realized that amidst the chaos and confusion, trusting in your bond with Theo was paramount.
"Yeah, I-I'm sorry." you stammered, your voice filled with a mix of emotions, as you finally let go of the lingering doubts.
Theo's eyes softened with understanding, a gentle smile forming on his lips. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, enveloping you in a reassuring embrace. In that moment, the unspoken affection bloomed, filling the air with an undeniable warmth.
With a rush of emotions, you met halfway, your lips gently pressing against his in a tender and heartfelt kiss.
"I love you too" you whispered as he pulled you in again for a kiss.
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。*:☆
hi hello! this is the end of the series. check out the angsty ver here if you'd like! here are a few fics to read while i work on my next one:
masterlist
reader's choice (mattheo x reader)
reader's choice (theodore x reader)
i honestly had so much fun writing this thank you for sticking along with this <33 sorry for how late this is i was like so busy and im also lazy so yea
- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover
Part 1
Masterlist
(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333
-
Three years later.
The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.
He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.
Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.
There’s no escape from what he’s done.
But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.
He decided to get the mail.
And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.
Another terrible decision he’s made.
Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.
Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.
Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.
The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.
Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.
His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.
Y/n is getting married.
Y/n is happy.
Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.
It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.
They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.
They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.
To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.
He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.
He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.
He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.
He’s barely surviving as it is.
And he just needs to see her again.
But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.
But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?
So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.
And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.
Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.
And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.
She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.
“Harry?”
“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”
Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.
He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.
“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”
Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.
And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.
“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”
He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.
She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.
“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”
She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”
“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”
Her head snaps back up to him.
“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”
Why would she?
They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.
Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.
“Then who did?” He whispers.
There’s only one possible answer.
-
Seven months ago.
Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.
But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.
She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.
She wished that she did the moment it happened.
The clock was ticking.
“Five!”
Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.
“Four!”
Y/n noticed something shift in the air.
“Three!”
Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.
“Two!”
Y/n knew what was coming.
“One!”
Alfie dropped to one knee.
“Happy new year!”
It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.
It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.
There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.
It all felt so wrong.
She began to cry.
To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.
Harry would have known.
And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.
Harry.
What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.
What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.
Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.
But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?
But she couldn’t say yes, either.
She settled for a nod of her head.
The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.
Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.
She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.
-
That same day.
Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.
Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.
This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.
He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.
But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.
Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.
And then her fiancè did this.
When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”
He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.
“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”
Her hands turn to fists.
“Are you kidding me?!”
“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”
He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.
But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.
“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”
Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.
And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.
He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.
It feels like all she will ever be is used.
“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”
“Isn’t that what this is for you?”
“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”
“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”
Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.
She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.
It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.
It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.
She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.
“I told you from day one that —”
“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”
Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.
“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”
And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.
“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”
His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.
She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.
None of this means anything to her.
“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”
What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.
-
Two weeks later.
Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.
The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.
So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.
She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.
Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.
The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.
She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.
Harry is the first one to find her.
He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.
And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.
He doesn’t care for her.
And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.
She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.
Finally, she has a friend.
“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.
“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”
Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.
She’s absolutely miserable.
She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.
“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”
She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.
He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”
Harry’s lips fall.
“Marry you?”
Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.
She looks appreciative beneath it all.
She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.
Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.
“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”
Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.
He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.
With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.
“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”
Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.
“So how do you want to be proposed to?”
She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.
“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”
She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.
“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”
He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.
It couldn’t have been any more obvious.
But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.
“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”
She sulks herself deeper into her knees.
“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”
Never thought about it?
“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.
She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.
“Yeah, but never to him.”
Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.
“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”
“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”
Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”
“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”
Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.
The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.
She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.
She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.
“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.
“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.
“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”
She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.
But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.
Too.
Too.
Too.
Like he said it first.
She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.
But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.
“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”
And how ridiculous it’s gotten.
“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”
And it’s all so true.
She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.
“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”
She melts into herself at his confession.
To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.
He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.
“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”
But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.
And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.
All of this is her heartbreak.
His fingertips rub softly at her leg.
“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”
She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.
He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.
She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.
“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”
He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.
“I’ll miss you everyday.”
He can’t even look at her as he says it.
His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.
It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.
She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.
“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”
And how could Harry ever say no to her?
He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.
They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.
They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.
-
Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.
She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.
If only they knew.
But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.
The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.
“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.
In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.
The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.
Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.
She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.
And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.
It’s all so clear to him now.
“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”
Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.
But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.
“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”
Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”
“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”
And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.
She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.
“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.
“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”
Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.
But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.
This is all him.
“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”
“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”
Another deafening silence.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.
So she does.
“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”
If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.
She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.
He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.
So she doesn’t.
-
The morning after.
Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.
The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.
He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.
But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.
Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.
H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.
I ended it with Alfie.
I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.
Please wake up.
H?
Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.
She ended it with Alfie.
He’s the only person she wants to see right now.
She needs him.
That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.
His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.
And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.
The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.
That person died along with her.
She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.
And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.
“Y/n —”
“Did you mean it?”
Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.
She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.
But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.
“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”
This is his last chance.
The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.
So he gives her more than she demands.
He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.
“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”
Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.
He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.
Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.
This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”
And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.
And it was.
It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.
It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.
And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.
Cause he’s starting to regret coming when she brings it up.
“You gonna tell me about her?” Cecelia questions, casually flicking through a thick folder labelled James B.B.
But it was never casual.
Bucky knew she was observing his every move, his every tick. And he’d been pretty good at faking through every session until now.
“I thought you were helping me make amends.” He forges an unamused smile, which was second nature now.
“Yes and that’s why I asked you about her.” She looks up from the folder, the smallest smile tugging at her lips.
“It says here that you guys were complicated.” She continues, eyes skimming over a particular page.
Complicated was the last thing he’d use to describe it.
Cause it was the one thing that gave him some clarity, hope that he could be deserving of love again someday.
“We used to date. We broke up.” He gruffs, crossing his arms.
Maybe he should fake a mechanical failure in his arm, reschedule for another time.
“Do you still love her?”
He doesn’t answer but it’s written all over his face and Cecelia can read him like a book.
She turns over his list that she’d assigned him to make, eyes trailing down names until it reaches a hastily crossed out name at the end.
“Why don’t we pick this up next week? I hope you’ll be more comfortable to talk about it then.” She hands him back the small, black notebook.
He hesitantly takes it back, his feet already springing to get out of the room.
Was it just him or was the air running out in this tiny room.
“And, James?” She calls out.
He looks back, slightly winded.
“Remember, sometimes you need to just take a leap of faith, trust your heart.”
He nods solemnly, almost tripping over his legs trying to get to the door.
Hands fumbling over the handle, he’s greeted by a rush of cool air when he finally opens the goddamn door.
He stuffs the notebook in his pocket, taking big strides towards the exit.
It’s the same everyday.
Keep his head down, one sharp left, stop by the nearby cafe if he feels like it.
But today, he takes a right, taking out his flip phone he prefers to the touch screens these days.
Punching in the only number he knows, his stomach’s doing flips.
Don’t pick up, don’t pick up.
“So you do know how to call someone.” Sam picks up after a few rings.
He could almost hear the stupid smirk.
“How are you?” He cringes, the grip on his phone tightening.
It’s a small pause before Sam chuckles, “Y/N’s doing fine. In fact, she just got back from a mission in Prague yesterday.”
Of course, you’d still be going on missions, it was the only thing you knew.
“That’s not why I called.” He huffs, leaning against his car now.
It was an old, beat up Honda that he’d fixed up from the local junkyard.
“Really? Then enlighten me.”
It was Cecelia’s fault for bringing you up. If she hadn’t brought her up, he wouldn’t be here doing this.
“Where is she?” He closes his eyes, wanting the ground to just crack open and swallow him whole.
“Right where you left her.”
He mumbles a hasty goodbye cause he’s not sure he can trust himself to keep his composure any longer.
Getting into the car, he pulls out the notebook, going through the list.
He’d ticked off the list last month, even adding a few more names just to avoid the crossed out name at the end.
He jams the keys in, the car purring to life, before he can change his mind.
-
The door is taunting him.
He doesn’t know how but it is.
A quick exhale and he raises his hand to knock on it, half hoping you won’t open it.
But you do.
He always loved your eyes cause they held so much life to them.
Like for now, confusion morphing to recognition and rage in an instant.
You’re in bad shape, he can gather from the slight limp and bruises.
It feels like forever before you call his name in disbelief, what he’s longed to hear for so long.
He wishes you’d curse him out, hit him or tell him to go away cause that’s what he deserves.
But you don’t.
Instead, your pretty eyes brim with tears.
“Don’t.” He grits his teeth, unable to meet your eyes.
He always hated to see you cry.
“Then, why’d you leave?” Your voice breaks as months of bottled up heartache pour out.
He had to.
You were the only right thing he’d done in a long long time and he couldn’t mess it up.
“I needed to fix myself before I could trust myself around you.”
He grimaces as he remembers the life draining out of your face, while his hands were wrapped around your neck.
That very night he’d left, requested for therapy and could only hope it would work.
But it didn’t.
There was no fixing anything, he’d realised that waking up from nightmares far too many times.
“You could have picked up the phone.” Your voice barely above a whisper, stinging like a nasty burn.
He almost did, everytime.
But he hated himself too much to allow that.
“I’m sorry.” That’s all he can whisper, fighting the urge to take you in his arms.
“If you’d just let me in, realise that I do understand you.” You’re basically pleading at this point but you don’t care.
“I know you do. But you don’t have to. You deserve a better guy.” He says the same thing when he left like a broken radio.
“There is no better guy for me, Bucky. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” You limp over closer to him.
You know he’s focused only on your limp, eyes filled with concern as they rake over your wounds.
“Does it hurt?”
The same thing he always used to ask after a mission while tending to your injuries.
“Yea, here.” You pat the left side of your chest, biting down a smile.
He has to fight back one too, but it’s kinda hard.
You meet his eyes, a little too long cause you’ve missed gazing into them every morning.
Maybe this is the leap of faith Cecelia keeps droning on about, he thinks as he leans in, “We should take a look at that, then.”
You sniffle, “I’m still mad at you.”
He laughs, which involuntarily makes you 2% less mad.
“I missed you.” He whispers, his lips inches away from yours.
You don’t have to say it back cause he knows.
He leans in closer, ghosting over your lips, waiting for your approval.
You close the distance, lips crashing into his almost in desperation.
Which you regret almost immediately cause you taste blood.
A split lip and kissing, not so pretty.
He pulls away and you mewl, pulling him back.
“You’re only making your lips worse.” He chuckles, hands slipping into yours.
Instead, he kisses your forehead, trailing all the way to your lips where he pecks them gently.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers again, head leaning on yours.
“I forgave you a long time ago. I was just waiting for you to come back.” You sob, tears springing out again.
He pulls you into his chest, steady hands you’ve craved for so long.
Gently rocking you back and forth, he strokes your hair, fleeting kisses to calm you down.
You’re struggling to keep your legs stable as your eyes grow heavy but you ignore the blatant aches in your body cause you don’t want to leave his embrace.
And he somehow always seems to notice.
“You need to rest.”
You shake your head, holding onto him even tighter.
He knows he won’t win against your stubborn ass so he lifts you up carefully, legs swinging over his arms while you snake your hands around his neck for support.
“Stay.” You mumble as he takes you in the room you two used to share.
And he does.
Boy, was Cecelia in for a ride next session.
-
a/n : im cringing as i post this🧎🏻♀️🔫🏃🏻♀️jsneyswjausowkaw but supeerr excited for tfatws this friday :)) also i named bucky’s therapist for convenience lol im pretty sure she’s not named in the first ep? i could be wrong tho
after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?
A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!
category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader
wc: 4.4k
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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.
First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.
Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.
Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.
You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.
That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.
For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.
As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.
“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.
“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”
Your head just about exploded when she said that.
There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?
“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.
Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.
“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”
Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”
You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?
“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”
She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.
“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.
“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.
She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.
“What isn’t your story?”
“That his girlfriend died last year.”
She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.
You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.
“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”
You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.
“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”
She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.
“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”
“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”
How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.
“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”
“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.
“There’s nothing I need from you.”
That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.
“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”
You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”
You chortled at her idea.
You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.
“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”
Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.
“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”
She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?
An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”
“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.
*
There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.
There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.
But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.
The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.
Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.
Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.
“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.
“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”
“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”
While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.
“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.
“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”
For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.
“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.
“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.
That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.
The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.
So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.
“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.
“No one said that ––”
“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”
“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”
“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.
“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”
“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”
“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”
He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.
“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”
Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.
“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”
“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”
Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.
But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.
“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”
Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.
As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.
It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.
A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.
You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.
He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”
You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.
“Wait,” he groaned.
You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.
“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.
“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”
Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.
Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.
“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”
“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”
“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”
You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.
“Did you need something?”
“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”
“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”
He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”
“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.
“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”
You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”
“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”
Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”
“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.
But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.
“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”
Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.
“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”
The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.
Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.
It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.
“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”
Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.
“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”
He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”
“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.
“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”
“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.
You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.
Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.
“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”
“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.
“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”
“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”
“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.
“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.
You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.
“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”
“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”
“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”
He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”
Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.
“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”
You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.
You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.
“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.
“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.
He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.
You shook your head no.
“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.
You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.
“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”
Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.
“Hang out with me sometime.”
“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.
“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.
As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.
You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.
“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”
“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”
A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.
-
-
agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕
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Kakucho opened the door to his apartment. "I'm home." He whispered,even though he wasn't expecting a reply. Fuck, he was dead tired. He started his day with a long meeting and then going around with Sanzu discussing on who sold their location out.
He entered the living room and quite unexpectedly the lights were on. He turned and saw you sitting on the sofa,going through your phone.
“Kakucho, you’re back!” You would literally jump from your seat and fly into him.
“Wait- don’t jump!” But despite his words he would always catch you, as he held you tighter and twirled a bit making you giggle. “It’s late.You should be sleeping.”
You would smile as you snuggled closer. “I wanted to see you.” You pout. “By the time I wake up you’re already gone. If I don’t stay up late then I probably can never see you.”
Kakucho smiled at you words as he leaned in,placing a kiss on you forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Kakucho smiled. Usually when he reached home you would already be asleep so all he could do was kiss you goodnight,as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
He walked over and kissed you on your temple. "Were you waiting for me ,love?" He watched you turn to look him, your eyes slightly wide. Kakucho guessed you didn't hear him enter.
You bit your lips as you turn away,turning your phone off and placed it on a table near by. Kakucho frowned as you left his question unanswered. "What's wrong,Y/N?"
"Let's break up."
So many things went through his mind. Your expression was calm as if you practiced this so many times already. But you promised...
“Woahhhhh!” You gasped as you put your right hand in the air. Your eyes glimmered as you looked at the ring in your hands. A beautiful gold ring with your birthstone and small diamonds attached to it.
Kakucho laughed at your reaction. He also put his hand in the air,near yours as he then intertwined them.
You noticed he had a similar ring on his hands too.
He brought your hands closer to him,as he placed a kiss on your finger. “It’s a promise ring.” You noticed Kakucho’s ears were rather flushed. “When things settle down, I’ll promise to propose you.”
Kakucho stayed silent waiting for a reply but when he didn’t hear any,he nervously turned to look at you. You had your eye wide,with tears flowing. Kakucho panicked. “What’s wrong,love? Do you hate it-“
“I’m so happy!” You cried. As tears continuous flowed. “You make me so happy! I promise to accept your proposal! I promise to make you the happiest husband ever even though I can’t cook well or help you with your job.”
Kakucho cupped your face,wipes your tears. “Thank you…” He too teared up.
His eyes trailed to your hand to see that your finger was empty,no ring was put on. To be honest when was the last time he saw you with the ring.
"Why?" Kakucho's voice broke. His heart was hammering against his chest yet he felt as if it was cracking, as if a glass was hit forming cracks ready to break with one more touch.
"I'm done... I'm done with simply everything." You turned your head away lowering your hair and covering your eyes. Kakucho wondered what expression you were wearing. "I tired of worrying about you. Why are you so late? Did something happen? Are you injured?"
Kakucho flinched when he heard the door to his hospital door open. Your worried face came into view. Kakucho gulped. “Hey,love…”
You bit your lips. “Don’t hey love me!” You stomped your way toward him. “I’m at home,preparing for our date when I suddenly get a call that my fiancé is in a hospital?!”
“Do you…Do you know…” Kakucho watched your furious expression change. Your eyes brows knitted as your eyes glistened. “I prayed on my way here…praying that nothing serious happened to you.”
Kakucho tilted his head. “Can you come here…” You sniffed as you walked toward him,sitting by his bed. He leaned in and placed a kiss on your lips. “I’m so sorry,love.”
Kakucho suddenly remembered a scene from a movie you were watching. He faked a cough as he mentally prepared. “But then my head were filled with thoughts saying “I wish I could see Y/N one last time…” when I got shot.”
“You idiot! Don’t talk about dying in front of me!” That day Kakucho got a slapped. Kakucho’s guard who tried to stop you also got thrown to the other side of the room.
“All I’m doing is staying at home alone.” You looked at him straight into his eyes. “I’m always alone,Kakucho…Sometimes I wonder if we are even together.” He noticed you called him by his name and not baby like you usually did.
“It’s as if Im just living alone. As if I never had a fiancé.” You smiled. But then it wasn’t one of happiness, a rather forced on instead. “Being with you made me feel so lonely…”
Kakucho sucked in a sharp breath. The glass that was cracked previously now shattered,into tiny uncountable pieces. His heart aches at your words. I’m sorry I let you feel like this. “I love you,Y/N…”
You turned as you stood up from your seat. “Love should go both ways,Kakucho…”
Kakucho almost laughed at the poetic way you spoke to say I don’t love you.
“Please…” He bent slightly,as he covered his face. But you did see a trail of liquid flowing down. Kakucho was crying.
“Please don’t leave me.” He reached out his hand as he held onto yours,but then his hold was gentle. There is no way he would let his emotions get the best of him and make him hurt you by hold your hand too tight.
His throat felt dry and his whole body felt cold. You were the person who was able to keep his sanity in check. You were the warmest person in his life. He didn’t want you to let go.
“I’m sorry.” You shook your head and you removed your hands as you walked towards the door. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll come a few days later to take my stuff.”
Kakucho quickly turned to you. “I’ll do anything in my power for you so please Y/N…” please stay…You immediately looked away.
His expression was hurting you and you felt that if you were to stay with him any longer,you would give in and go back into his arms. But that way you will go back into the feeling of loneliness. You didn’t want that…You stepped through the door making your exit.
⌦ 'can I ask for hcs for Daishou, Atsumu, and Sakusa having a really heated argument with male s/o. During the argument the boys say something really mean to their s/o that s/o starts to cry. Before the boys could start apologizing s/o just blurts out that he wishes he never met them and leaves.’
A/N: (i changed it slightly if you dont mind-) we got three new bois im writing for, lets hope i get their personality right. so i apologize in advanced if they seem ooc! (youcantellwhereihalfassedshitimsosorry-)
𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞:
→ the argument probably started with his slight manipulative personality and mocking sense of humor, it usually didn’t get to you but lately it has been hitting too close to home. letting it slide with the silence of your voice and change of mood each time.
→ coming back home you didn’t know it would evolve into this, but Daishou Suguru, your boyfriend of 2 years. noticed it and decided to question you.
→ the air was tensed within the shared home you two lived in, it was suffocating despite the room being open and wide. hearing the dark-olive hair male behind you, who was clearly speaking to you. hearing words that you couldn’t comprehend to be anything but venomous.
→ each word stung like a snakes bite. ironic for his previous school’s mascot.
→ Daishou had kept going on, stabbing at you word after word.
→ “You’ve been acting weird all day, what’s up with that?” “..even recently you’ve been off.” “hey are you even-”
→ before Dai could even finish he heard you raise your voice, seeing your hand clench around the doorknob of your guys’ shared rooms.
→ “WHY DONT YOU SHUT UP FOR JUST A SECOND!?” “ YOU..Y-you.. should damn well know w-why I’m acting ‘weird’ and shit, babe.” “You know those- those mocks and insults- you- you fucking call ‘jokes’ aren’t really jokes. Daishou.”
→ your eyes kept low with the casting shadow from the lack of lights in the hall. but the shakiness of your voice signaled something in him, but his stupid pride wouldn’t let down.
→ “Are you serious right now, y/n? We’ve been dating for fucking almost 3 years and now they get to you-” “..really ridiculous of you.”
→ it went off afterwards. just the words being said at each other with such emotion, none of you have seen each other like this... well.. not towards one another. it was just foreign and strange.
→ “you’re such a sensitive crybaby, fucking christ y/n.” “and if those weren’t jokes, you’d still damn take it like nothing.”
→ freezing as soon the words slipped out from his lips, it grew densely silent. your hand slipping off the doorknob, gaze lowering down onto the floor. only focusing in on the shoes kept on.
→ “..h-hey, babe- i- didn’t-” Daishou realized the words he said, it may not be harmful to most, but knowing you. he knew you hated being called anything of the such, even the shit he decided to add made his heart ache with regret.
→ watching you hurry off towards the front door, to supposedly leave, he grabbed your wrist. before you whacked his hand away,
→ “D-dont fucking touch me. I don’t w-wanna... fuckin hear it. Not now. Or even ever.” “..i should’ve never met you, i was damn stupid enough to think this will last longer with that- dare you did.” “..you probably never loved me.”
→ watching you slip off outside in the night, he didn’t know what to do. hands clenching into fists, as he heard your steps fade away and into silence. the air was more tensed, more suffocating. his mind was clouded with something unfamiliar to him.
→ ‘..how did he know about that.’
𝙰𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞:
→ you always had a sneaking suspicion. you always did. that instinctive feeling ;lm, jn your gut that you should’ve trusted. it was dumb of you to push it away because of the hope you had. well... false hope.
→ you always caught him not at the spot after his practice, the usual spot. always questioning his team to know where he could’ve ran off, they all gave off a shrug and sometimes a slight assumption you followed. leading somewhere more secluded and hidden, to avail to not find him.
→ stumbling back to the previous spot you seem him slink his way at the same time from around a corner... or somewhere. waving up at him and happily greeting him with the usual smile and hug, you question how his hair looked more ruffled and messed up. as if hurried and ruffled up. Atsumu giving a silly excuse of whatever, you shrugged it off. continuing on with the rest of your days together.
→ this would continue a few times. but different things would seem off about him every time, and you took note. occasionally questioning again, before being shot down with an excuse. taking in it again just to not escalate things.
→ as time passed. you began to grow assumptions, noticing how distance he was becoming, having ‘plans’ already up which were not with you, and he often came home late from it. or not, and came home the next day. not even the morning.
→ sitting on the bed of your shared room, you stared idly at the buzzing phone on the nightstand. ‘..’tsumu’s phone is going off.’ as curiosity grew the longer it went on, your boyfriend was in the shower so it wouldn’t be too much of a harm right?
→ peering over to look at the illuminated screen, you blankly stared at the text messages. reading the messages word for word and slowly, ‘..who..’
→ staring at the messages and the sender, you knew it was someone who had a liking of your boyfriend... should you even call him that now?
→ swiping the phone from its original position you just watched the messages keep going till it stops to the recent time. you didn’t open the app, but just merely stare at the name. it had a cute nickname and all, similarly to yours. mind becoming hazy and clouded, you didn’t know how long you were staring at Atsumu’s phone till his raising voice snapped you out of the trance.
→ flinching as he snatched his phone away from your hands, you stared up at the fake blonde who had just gotten out of the shower simply wearing nothing but casual sweats with a damp towel hanging off his shoulder.
→ “Hey! y/n why were ya’ staring at my damn phone?” his gaze was ironed onto you, meeting your [e/c] eyes. you could tell he was furious and he was getting ticked off by each silent second you let by. “not gonna speak? are ya braindead or something honey?”
→ seeing you softly mutter words but it was too quiet to hear, almost like a whisper. but besides the way it was heard, the words itself were not light and gentle.
→ “..why did you cheat..”
→ a sudden jolt hit him, “..c-cheat? I didn’t cheat on ya’ baby, what are you talking about?” he lied.
→ “now.. you’re lying to me... ‘tsumu.” the softness of your tone was quite concerning, it was saddened and dismal. the building of tears daring to fall any second, you just stared at him with the distraught expression.
→ “What? I’m not ly-” before the fake blonde could slip out the rest of the word, you jumped in.
→ “You are LYING, Miya. Stop acting like you aren’t.” quickly standing up and moving to the side.
→ “How did you even know?” he yelled back, knowing it was worthless to keep up his lies and fake pretending.
→ “Those damn texts-??” you pointed towards his phone that his fist was holding. “..a-are you stupid?” the wavering of your voice made you regret speaking, but it was inevitable and shittier if you left your feelings unsaid.
→ Atsumu’s thick brows furrowed down, “Wait- So you’re telling me ya snooped on my phone?! The fuck is wrong with you!” “..can’t I have some privacy? can’t I!? Y/n!?” he snapped back.
→ “What’s.. wrong with me? With ME-? Miya..” averting your gaze for a quick second, you looked back as you poked him roughly, “..you have been.. been- fucking.. Cheating on me this whole time. A-and.. I know you have been-! Those times you’ve been slipping off after practice. you leaving off to ‘hang out’ with friends? What a fucking. load. of. bullshit. Miya.”
→ tears were dripping down from your eyes, before you bit down your lip for the next response. while the blonde could only stared in silence, conflicted.
→ “I-..I really thought you loved me, that whole time.. really did. and i was a damn fool to have such hopes.” you had hurriedly rushed off to leave the room, the quick muttering of an foreign phrase stabbed his heart.
→ “..i should’ve never met you either.”
→ he didn’t know what to do, but hearing the click of the front door opening and shutting accompanied by your running steps that faded. he knew you weren’t coming back. all he did was stand there in distraught, confusion, troubled, everything.
→ ‘what do i do now..’
𝚂𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊:
→ he wouldn’t be the physical affection type person, but at times, you were an exception. knowing you liked to cuddle, gives hugs, and all that jazz. it often took a lot persuasion for him to get to cuddle whenever you had a chance too, having a schedule that often didnt mesh well.
→ so it wasn’t a big deal if it ended up into a confrontation about it, occasionally small arguments. but this one was unexpected, especially to you.
→ hearing Sakusa walk in your shared home, you looked over from your position in the kitchen. giving him a soft welcome home, asking “Hey, Omi! How was your day?”
→ “..pretty irritating.” he muttered from under his mask, pulling it down under his chin as he took off his shoes.
→ instinctively you walked over to hug him at least, but he steered away quickly. obviously denying it without a word. blinking at him, you took the sign and stepped away, apologizing softly under your breath.
→ you were having an off day yourself, some things weren’t going so well for you during the day till you got home. hoping you’d have some time with your boyfriend, wanting to cuddle and maybe a hug at least knowing how he is.
→ “..I-..uh.. do you wanna cuddle after you shower or-” Sakusa interrupted you bluntly and rather quickly, “no.”
→ only biting down the rest of your words, you softly nodded. seeing him drift off into your shared room, supposedly gonna rinse up. sighing as you went off to do your own thing to wait, hoping he’ll feel a little better for the offer again.
→ he doesn’t.
→ raising your arms up to him as he walked out of the bathroom door, he doesn’t bat an eye towards you. making your heart ache slightly, “..omi? are you okay?” you began to follow him shortly behind into your bedroom.
→ “..didn’t i say i was irritated earlier.” he stiffly said, slipping on a shirt as he did.
→ “i-..i mean yeah but.. are you at me? I’m- uhh.. also having a bad day too y’know.” “i wanted to be with you.”
→ the air was dense. even if there was barely any physical aggression and irritation it would make you cower. as it settled down longer, Sakusa muttered something. it was so clear as day in the suffocating silence.
→ “you’re really so selfish you know that.” “..matches your clingy attitude.”
→ ‘he didn’t care. he didn’t.’ is all you could think of. it just rushed
→ “..you think I’m selfish?” you repeated, your hands tightening around the edge of your long sleeves. nails almost digging into your palm. “do you really think that.” your soft and gentle demeanor faded quickly.
→ the wavy haired male turn to look at you, seeing your head and gaze kept low and averted from his. seeing your clenching hands, almost penetrated your own skin. instantly regretting his words.
→ “y/n- I- really didn’t-..” stopping himself he sees the dripping tears fall onto the floor, then your sniffles.
→ “Just- just shut up. I n-need space..” already slipping pass and out the door, he went to go after you yelling out your name. seeing you freeze at the doorway, about to slip on a coat and shoes.
→ “..Sakusa. Just drop it. I don’t- wanna deal with this right now. You.. you made my.. day far worse.”
→ ‘he said.. my last name. not... not my first. shit.’ biting back what else to say, he stood there silently. watching you put on a pair of shoes before rushing off out into the cold.
→ silent fights and arguments is what scares y/n the most. it happens quite often but this was the most suffocating one by far, ruining his day. and his mind. letting the negative overwhelm him more. letting Sakusa’s word stuck in his brain on replay.
Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship
A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!
MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST
He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.
The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.
Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.
The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.
Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.
His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.
Where r u?
Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.
“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.
It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?
It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.
That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.
“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.
The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.
Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.
The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.
Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.
“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.
You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.
“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.
As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.
It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.
The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.
He can’t do this.
“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.
“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”
He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.
“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”
That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.
He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.
He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.
At least now he has something to do with his hands.
The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.
Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.
“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.
“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”
He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?
“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.
“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”
Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.
“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”
“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.
He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.
“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?
“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.
“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.
“You had me at pizza.”
With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.
Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.
The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.
What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.
“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.
“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.
“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”
“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”
“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”
“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.
“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”
“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.
They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.
“Do you need a ride home?”
“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”
“I’ll wait with you then.”
Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.
Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?
He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.
“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.
“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.
“Will do. Boyfriend.”
“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.
He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.
That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.
It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.
Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!
The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.
Request: Yes / No girl pls write more for draco including smut and fluff. im all for this man.. Anon
Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night
Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader
Word count: 3298
Warnings: Smut!
Y/N: Your Name
Y/N/N: Your Nickname
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Masterlist
(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
My cousin’s wedding was coming up and I no longer had a date. My now ex-boyfriend had been cheating on me with my roommate for a month before I caught them. My parents didn’t know that I had broken up with him, but they also didn’t know who he was yet. They were supposed to meet him at the wedding. We were going home in a week and I had to face my parents soon. I flopped down on the couch in the common room and groaned.
“What’s got you all worked up?” Someone said and I looked up to see none other than Draco Malfoy, my best friend.
“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard Nathan cheated on me with my bloody roommate and now I don’t have a date to my cousin’s wedding.” I huffed and placed a pillow on top of my head, groaning once again.
“Oh Y/N/N, I’m sorry.” He said sitting down next to me.
“It’s alright, he really wasn’t worth it as you told me.” I gave him a small smirk.
“So then what’s the problem?” He asked confused.
“I told you, I don’t have a date for my cousin’s wedding! My parents were supposed to meet Nathan for the first time then and now they’ll just think I was lying to them!” I said and he chuckled slightly.
“Just explain to them that the git cheated on you.” He shrugged and I shook my head.
“My parents will just think I’m lying and that I never actually had a boyfriend in the first place.” I said and sighed.
“So your parents don’t know anything about who your boyfriend is?” He asked with a raise of his brow.
“No, why?” I asked, also raising my brow in confusion.
“Well then, why don’t I just accompany you to the wedding and pretend to be your boyfriend?” He asked with a slight smirk. My eyes widened, why didn’t I think of that!
“Draco! You’re a bloody genius!” I said and hugged him.
“I know darling.” He laughed.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this though? You really don’t have to.” I said, pulling away from him.
“Of course, if I wasn’t I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it.” He chuckled again.
“Good point.” I smiled.
It was finally the night of the wedding and Draco had agreed to meet me at the venue. I was nervous that my parents wouldn’t believe we were dating, but I trusted Draco to sell it with me.
“So Y/N, where is this boyfriend of yours?” My Mother asked.
“He should be here soon.” I smiled, biting back my nerves.
“Y/N!” I turned and saw Draco walking over to us and I smiled.
“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, love.” He said and kissed my cheek.
“You didn’t miss anything important.” I giggled.
“Mother, Father, this is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.” I introduced him.
“Darling, why didn’t you just tell us you were dating the Malfoy son?” My Father asked.
“She probably wanted to keep it a surprise.” My Mother said with a huge smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N.” Draco said, shaking hands with my Father.
“How are your parents? We haven’t seen them in a few years.” My Mother asked.
“They’re both well, Father’s been busy with work and Mother is happy that we’re all back together for a few weeks.” He answered.
“Well now that you two are dating, perhaps we can all get together for dinner soon.” My Father said.
“I’ll talk to my parents, perhaps during this break.” Draco answered and I felt the nervousness returning. Would we have to fake our relationship for longer than just tonight?
“Right, well we should probably go sit down before we miss the wedding.” I said. My parents nodded and walked off to their seats.
“Your parents seem happy.” Draco commented as we followed.
“Well of course they are, you’re a bloody Malfoy. I’ve just given them the best news in the world.” I sighed.
“Then what’s wrong?” He asked confused.
“What’s wrong is we might have to keep this up for the rest of our lives.” I sighed.
“You’re exaggerating, love.” He chuckled as we sat down and I bit my lip. My stomach was doing flips at Draco’s new nickname, maybe this was a bad idea.
The ceremony was absolutely beautiful. I could only hope my wedding was as beautiful as my cousin’s was. Now it was the best part, the reception! There was an open bar and Draco and I were allowed to drink. I always loved fire whiskey and I intended to drink my nerves away. Draco on the other hand, was not drinking as much as I was.
“Love I think you should slow down, you don’t want to get too drunk and be the one to ruin the wedding.” Draco said and I sighed.
“I suppose you’re right, however, I think we’re a little past that.” I giggled and he sighed with a small smirk.
“Come on then, let’s find you a place to sober up a bit.” He said and helped me out of the large room. Draco walked me down a hall and leaned me against the wall.
“Stay here, do not move.” He said and I nodded. Draco walked off and I started zoning out. Draco returned a few moments later and wrapped his arm around my waist. He led me further down the hall and stopped at a door. Draco pulled out a key and unlocked the door. The two of us walked into the hotel room and I collapsed onto the bed.
“I got this room for the night, so you can sober up for a little then we can go back to the party.” He said and sat on one of the chairs. It was quite warm in the room and I also just wanted this dress off of me right now. I stood up and struggled to get it off me.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“It’s hot and I want this stupid dress off me!” I groaned and finally got it off. I laid back on the bed now in just my bra, underwear, and kicked off my heels.
“Y/N, you should really cover up.” He said and I looked over with a smile.
“Why? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I asked and saw he was looking away from me.
“N-Nothing, but you shouldn’t be so exposed in front of me.” He said and had a slight pink tint on his cheeks.
“You’re my fake boyfriend so I think it’s fine.” I shrugged and laid back down. Draco walked over and laid next to me.
“So because I’m faking being your boyfriend, you think it’s alright for me to see your body?” He whispered in my ear.
“I wouldn’t want anyone else to.” I whispered back. A smirk formed on his beautiful face.
“Good girl.” He whispered and kissed my temple. Those simple words sent a shiver down my spine. Draco’s hand began to travel up my thighs, stopping when he reached my black lace panties.
“Spread your thighs.” He demanded. I spread my legs slightly and rested my hands at my sides, not really knowing what to do with them. Draco began rubbing me through my panties, watching my face the entire time. I locked my eyes with his, lust growing more and more with each little movement. He was only lightly teasing me, but my panties were soaked with my arousal.
“Take off your panties and hand them to me.” He said, taking his hand away. I frowned at the loss of contact.
“Now, Y/N.” He said, only turning me on more. I shifted slightly and slowly slid them down my smooth legs. Draco began slowly running his hand up my side and towards my breasts. When I finally got my underwear off I handed them over to him and he smirked.
“That’s my good girl. Now, try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” He asked and I nodded. His hand slid back to my pussy and parted my lips, coating his fingers in my wetness. Two of his fingers began slowly making circles around my swollen clit. I bit my lip as I tried hard to contain myself. I had no idea what to do with my hands or where I should look, so I simply put my hands to my sides and closed my eyes, letting the intense pleasure wash over me. I felt his hands go lower and slowly pushed two fingers inside me. I gasped, not used to fingers other than my own. I couldn’t help but groan at the feeling.
“Shh, we wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, now would we?” Draco said and I threw my head back and sighed. He began to push his fingers in and out of me as his thumb paid attention to my clit. As he picked up the pace I was getting closer, my hips rocked back and forth, accidentally letting out a few squeaks. I felt like I couldn’t breath, like Draco was stealing all my oxygen. I felt like I was on fire, like there was a heat building that couldn’t be controlled by anyone. I never felt like this before, never been pushed this far. Draco picked up the speed even more and I could no longer hold back. I lightly gasped for the air I couldn’t get into my lungs, gyrating my hips against the bed. Just as I felt my pussy clench Draco pulled his fingers out quickly. I cried out in disappointment, but before I could protest any further Draco pushed his fingers between my pouting lips.
“Suck.” He simply said. I frowned, but slowly began sucking my own juices off of his fingers. I began lightly licking and when Draco removed his fingers, I rolled the taste of myself around in my mouth and realized I didn’t dislike it as much as I thought I would have.
“Are you ready to receive your punishment?” He asked and I looked at him confused.
“You weren’t quite like I told you to be.” He cleared up and I bit my lip.
“Yes sir.” I whispered and he smirked.
“Get on your knees, love, kneel for me like a good girl.” He said sternly. I slowly slid off the bed and dropped down to my knees, not daring to question him. I smirked up at him slightly and spread my thighs as wide as I could then sat back on my heels, pushing my chest out. Draco smiled down at me.
“Good girl.” He said simply as he brushed my shoulders pulling my hair behind me. I noticed his dick making a sizable tent in his pants and I knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. He bent down and grasped my chin.
“You’re going to suck me off right now.” He said and let got on my face, straightened himself back out.
“Undo my belt and pants, Y/N.” He stated. I slowly reached up and began unbuckling his black leather belt. I fumbled with the buttons on his pants as my hand shook slightly with anticipation. When I was done undoing his pants I slowly pulled them down his thighs. When I reached up and grasped the seams of his boxers I looked up into Draco’s eyes for approval. He simply nodded and smiled at me. As his boxers slid down his legs, his dick sprung out and bobbed up and down in front of me. Draco watched me as I unconsciously licked my lips at little as I stared at his huge member.
“Start by licking me. Use your hands to play with my balls. Then-” I cup him off as I lunged forward eagerly and started lapping at his sensitive skin. I reached up and began gently fondling his balls as I slowly and lightly licked from his base to his tip. When I reached his head I licked around and sucked here and there. I pulled back slightly and wrapped my lips around the head of his dick glancing back up into his eyes through my lashes once again discreetly asking if what I was doing was okay. As I began sucking lightly on his dick, I swirled my tongue around and lapped at his dick hole, exploring what got him more excited. Draco groaned, reaching forward and grasping some of my hair.
“Start bobbing your head up and down. Suck me and use your tongue to stimulate me even more.” He said. I slowly started taking in more of his shaft and was forced to widen my jaw a bit more. My tongue swirled around as much as possible as I began sucking lightly. As I came back up slowly I found I had more use of my tongue then. Draco let me slowly explore and find out what works for me. Once I fell into my own rhythm of sucking and lapping, he began using my hair to set my pace. He pulled and pushed me and I became more animated, sucking harder and slightly tugging on his balls more. He watched me as half his dick disappeared into my mouth and came back out. Draco slowed my pace down and slowly pushed his dick back into my mouth, watching every inch slowly disappear. He groaned as I sucked harder than I had before when I got back to the tip of his dick. Draco couldn’t hold back anymore and began to make the pace faster than I had expected. Draco began fucking my face and I struggled to keep up. Quickly though, I matched up and added more stimulation to please him. Draco pushed further and watched as I fought my gag reflex, I could tell he enjoyed the tears that began forming in my eyes.
“Swallow, Y/N.” He demanded and I knew he would cum soon. I prepared myself and sucked harder and harder hoping to get him to cum hard. All of a sudden he grunted out loud and slammed his dick into my mouth as far as I could take it, gagging me. A hot stream of cum shot into my mouth and throat. I worked hard to swallow it all. Draco shot a large load and I let a few drops slip out of my mouth, dribbling down my chin. When Draco pulled out of my mouth he grabbed the base of his dick and held it back up to my lips.
“Clean me. Lick up and down like you had when you started and get all the cum off me.” He said. I licked gently and soon sat back on my heels once more, awaiting the next command. He reached over and scooped up the remaining cum on my chin. Draco placed his fingers in front of my lips and I opened. I sucked the cum off his fingers and looked up into his passion filled eyes. Draco leaned down and placed the first passionate kiss onto my lips. Draco pulled back and I pouted, begging for more.
“Are you horny?” He asked with a smirk. I nodded in response, not trusting my voice at the moment.
“What should we do about that?” He wondered with a smirk. I groaned in response, it was obvious I was on fire.
“Get on the bed on your back and spread your legs wide for me.” He said. I quickly moved into position and once again slightly began fidgeting with the lack of knowledge of what to do with my hands.
“Place your hands flat against the bed, stretched towards your ankles. Do not move.” Draco instructed with a bit of a threatening tone. Draco got down on his knees in front of my pussy and coated his fingers in my wetness once again. I was leaking everywhere, already making a puddle on the bed. He didn’t waste any time and pushed two fingers into me hard. He began pumping his fingers in and out of me roughly at a fast pace. I arched my back and gasped slightly at the pressure. When Draco added another finger to the mix, circling my clit fast and hard, I couldn’t help but move my hands and moan loudly. Draco stopped rubbing my clit for a moment and grabbed my hands, pushing them together.
“Lock them together.” He said quickly. Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out my black lace panties and balled them up in his hand. He bent over me and bit me on the neck. I let out a surprised gasp and Draco quickly shoved my soaked panties into my mouth, gagging me.
“These will keep you quiet.” He stated with a smile as I yelled out a muffled protest. Draco went back down and began pumping his fingers faster after replacing his finger on my sensitive clit. As Draco continued roughly fingering me, he watched as I squirmed and went wild beneath him. I wasn’t able to control the bucking of my body, there was no stopping the orgasm that was approaching. I was getting close as I moaned back to back. Right as I was about to cum Draco picked up the pace just a little faster. I shut my eyes enjoying the pleasure Draco was giving to me.
“Open your eyes, Y/N.” He growled. My eyes shot up and looked straight at the man who was setting my body on fire. I screamed as everything hit me. My whole body tensed and I shook with pleasure. Draco kept pumping as my wetness leaked everywhere and I bucked beneath him. He kept pumping hard and fast as my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I screamed as loud as I could. When I finally came down from the greatest orgasm I’ve ever had I felt like I was on a cloud, weak but relaxed. Draco leaned over me and removed my panties from my mouth. He kissed me once more gently and then scooped me into his arms. He let me rest for a moment as my breathing went back to normal. I felt relaxed and safe as I buried my head into his chest.
“Ready to go back?” He whispered softly. I could only nod my head.
“Come on, let’s get you dressed.” He said and helped me get presentable. Draco grabbed my hand, but before we left the room I stopped him.
“Where did all that come from?” I asked and he blushed.
“Do you want me to be honest?” He asked and I nodded.
“I’ve always fancied you Y/N, why do you think I offered to be your fake boyfriend?” He asked and my eyes widened, but I smirked.
“Are you saying the great Draco Malfoy has a crush on me?” I teased slightly and he rolled his eyes.
“Come on, let’s get back to the party.” He grumbled, but I stopped him once again.
“I fancy you too Draco, who do you think I let you take control?” I whispered in his ear and pulled back with a smirk. His face was shocked to say the least. My smirk grew and I walked out of the room.
“Well, are you coming or not?” I called and heard him rush to catch up with me.
“You planned all that?” He asked shocked and I smirked.
“The party was getting a bit boring, don’t you think?” I asked and he smirked.
“You weren’t drunk, were you?” He asked.
“Suppose you’ll never know.” I said and pulled him onto the dance floor. I believe it’s safe to say that we were no longer faking our relationship.
When the joke AU gets out of hand and now its like, a whole thing
SO uhm here is the post about the fake marriage on Pasio au! Where the whole fake marriage thing ended up becoming more of a B plot more then anything, oops. The premise kind of got lost on me as I went along.
First things first, here’s the information I gathered from the Hoenn timeline in Pokemas itself so yall know what im working with (and as a side note, if you have no idea about the basic story of Pokemon Masters, the rest of this entire post might be a little confusing);
-Brendan is Normans son, and May the daughter of professor Birch. Brendan has at least defeated Normans gym, and neither of them have met Aqua or Magma, nor Archie or Maxie.
-Magma and Aqua don’t seem to be publicly known as bad in any way.
-The meteor with Zinnia has already happened, and someone else took that destiny from her. (I’ll be honest- I never end up really explaining this here. I had no idea how to even begin making sense of this considering this is post game stuff and Brendan never even seems to have made it to the Elite Four as far as we know)
And with that ! Here’s the actual story I managed to make out of that.
-The backstories for Archie and Maxie are the same as they’d normally be. Things only get different once the ORAS plots would normally start.
Magma and Aqua both don’t commit crimes (such as orb or submarine stealing) with their uniforms on and under their team names. As such, they’re still seen as regular, legit environment organisations trying to better the region.
May and Brendan never get involved with them either. Between no meddling kids and their crimes not being tied back to them, things end up going pretty fast on their end.
-Their crimes aren’t connected nor is anyone looking into them as something bigger- right up until the orbs get stolen. Those are considered important enough artifacts to raise some attention, and so, Steven and Wallace brought on the case to investigate as the Hoenn champions.
-It’s a lot easier said then done, and while they start to suspect Aqua and Magma have something to do with it, they have no concrete proof. Still, they do their best to figure out if it’s them and what their intentions with it would be.
-Regrettably for them they are too slow. Maxie and Archie both make it to the sea cavern , and both raise their respective legendaries. Kyogre is there, Groudon is there, as a result even Rayquaza shows up. There’s a lot going on— and then, within a couple of minutes, there isn’t. All legendaries vanish into thin air, so fast that the population of Hoenn never even realised what was happening out on sea. Except for some unfortunate swimmers who never end up being believed.
Maxie and Archie feel devestated, and the Hoenn League who did notice what happened is very alarmed. Keeping the incident quiet as to not incite a panic, Steven and Wallace are pushed onto this case instead now- to locate the missing legendaries, and ensure they won’t cause any harm- and maybe figure out what caused them to awaken in the first place.
Wallace and Steven immediately link that to the orbs, and as such, Aqua and Magma. Still, they have no actual proof- no one outside their teams saw Archie or Maxie doing anything.
-The reason behind the sudden disappearances turns out to be Hoopa! Who brought all of them to Pasio. The legendaries immediately went from fighting mode into very confused mode. They don’t know where they are or what happened. Groudon ends up hiding in the volcano on the island, while Kyogre keeps to the bottom of the water surrounding the island.
-Rayquaza however doesn’t hide itself- and instead, floats around on a mountain top on the island. Rumors start floating around about it, and before long Zinnia shows up and becomes a sync pair with it.
-Steven and Wallace hear Rayquaza is over in Pasio, and figure the other two might be as well- so they go over to investigate. They also talk some with Zinnia about Rayquaza, but since it appears to be fine and calm and Zinnia is not planning on giving it up, she ends up keeping it and they leave her be to search for Groudon and Kyogre instead.
-Magma and Aqua also catch wind of Rayquaza being over there, and even hear about some sightings of what appear to be Kyogre and Groudon around the island. Now the plan is to get over there and get them…. but the problem is that Steven and Wallace are both there, and they’re well aware those two suspect them- and that suddenly showing up for no reason would probably only worsen those suspicions.
While the both of them have complete faith in their power as a team, they’d rather not pick a fight with two champions if they can avoid it- especially when they’re on an island full of other champions and elite four members who would probably back them up if asked.
-Going with their entire team would definitely be too suspicious. That’s out. Going with their admins might still be risky- Plus, they can’t exactly leave their teams unattended back in Hoenn. So, Maxie and Archie end up figuring that the best course of action would be for them to go alone, at least for the time being. Scout out if they can locate the legendaries and a way to get to them- and then call backup if needed.
…But if they both go alone at the same time and end up fighting each other while they’re there… it wouldn’t help their case.
-And so, after some thinking things over, Maxie ends up deciding it’d be best if they went together under a temporary truce. So off to Aqua to talk it over with Archie he goes! There, they come up with their plan; faking a marriage, and going to Pasio under the excuse of being on honeymoon.
Steven and Wallace wouldn’t be expecting it, so maybe it’d throw them off track! And for the rest of the trainers on Pasio- well, who isn’t happy for a couple living their best life? With a little luck it’d immediately make people trust them a bit more.
-So to Pasio they go! Maxie takes Camerupt as his sync partner, Archie partners with his Sharpedo. They rent a little vacation home- for obvious reasons, they’ll have to live together for a while, but with a little luck they can just avoid each other most of the time. Besides, at least the ad specified there being two beds.
-They misread the ad. There’s one single two person bed. Archie is promptly demoted to sleeping on the couch.
In general, while they do well enough at faking being very affectionate and loving in front of people, the moment they’re back in their house it’s a lot of fighting.
-Steven and Wallace are not stupid, and are immediately wary when Maxie and Archie suddenly show up no matter how well they’re putting on an act. Still, there’s not a lot they can do except keep an eye on them and ensure they stay away from the areas Kyogre and Groudon are spotted.
-The rest of the island however thinks they’re nice! Look at the cute couple having fun. Good for them.
-Overall, while things are going decently okay for Archie and Maxie, Steven and Wallace constantly blocking off areas where they could gather intel and trailing their every move is really hindering their ability to be able to do much of anything. And so the four of them enter an awkward stand still, where neither can really get the other off the island.
-For a while, Maxie and Archie just try to put on the act as best as they can, to hopefully get Steven and Wallace to lower their guard. They go on ‚dates‘ together, hang out with the other people around the island, attend events together, etc. Steven and Wallace still don’t trust them for shit however, and end up pushing May and Brendan towards them in the hopes that they might be able to spot something off.
-Brendan and May have no idea what anyone is trying to do here, and actually really like Archie and Maxie. They help show them all there is on Pasio and introduce them to new people time and time again.
-Eventually, Maxie and Archie realise that this is going to take a lot longer then they were hoping for- between Steven and Wallace not budging, and the trainers on Pasio constantly keeping them busy- they’re going to need an excuse to keep staying here. And they don’t actually need to wait long!
-While being a lot less aggressive and in people’s face about it, Archie still talks about the environmental impact the island has on the ocean around it a good bit to some of the other trainers there- he is leader of an environmental group focused on the sea back at home, after all! People actually start agreeing with him, to a point it even reaches Lear. Conceding something should be done, Sawyer starts working on putting a team together that would help undo the damage they’ve caused by making the oceans around the island more habitable for the Pokemon that were made homeless because of them. Archie is one of the first people to get asked to join the team- and having a job there makes a great excuse to stay a while longer. Besides, it’s still working towards his goal to some extent, so he’s down!
-A bit after that Maxie ends up joining the team that made the island and is currently in charge of keeping it thriving. Same for him- the job still aligns with his ideals, so he doesn’t mind doing it.
-This was also the time Archie started having serious back pain from sleeping on the couch each night, so he took the bed as well. Maxie threatened to kick him out, Archie wished him luck with that and… well, they both just keep to their side of the bed now.
-Back at home, Magma and Aqua are being good legit environmental groups working within the law. It’s been gaining them a great reputation, and being fully legitimate and not having to fear getting charged for crimes is also very nice for the teens working as grunts there.
-And so back in Pasio, Maxie and Archie forcefully have to take a step back from their plans… to live relatively normal lives instead. Surprise surprise, it’s not actually that bad! They enjoy their jobs, they actually start making some friends, half the kids on the island seem to have adopted them as cool new uncles… and they even start fighting less in private! They can actually get along sometimes.
Eventually the realisation hits that they’re living out the lives they wanted- before they ever joined Rocket and everything went so terribly wrong. Except their marriage being ‚fake‘, this was more or less the future they envisioned… and it’s very weird to think about.
-For Maxie, he does get sad reminiscing, and reminisce he does- but as long as Archie keeps going , he’d never give up his plans. While originally raising Groudon was truly out of his ideals, over time (and when their original breakup happened) it became less about that- and more about ‚winning‘ - winning out over Archie, and proving to both himself and the other he’d been right all along. Even when the evidence started pointing towards that not being the case and Tabitha only agreeing this was a bad idea, he was so caught up in not being able to lose now he never backed down- and just reassured himself the science had to be wrong.
As long as Archie is going, so is he.
-Archie however…. Archie’s plans of flooding the world to reset it- undo the damage humanity caused by ending it entirely- were born out of feeling like there truly was no other option, truly was no other good left. Being focused on that goal every day, it wasn’t hard to stay in that mindset. But now, having to forcibly take a step back- suddenly getting to live a normal life again, with a way to help that doesn’t require death and a support system outside of Aqua… Suddenly the hope returns that maybe there is more out there- maybe there is another way to go about this.
And so, after a lot of thinking, and a lot of doubting every answer he came up with- finally he rang up Shelly and Matt to talk things over, and talk about leaving Kyogre be. Shelly was thrilled- at the end she didn’t trust his plans with Kyogre anymore anways and seeing Archie finally with agree with her on that was a big relief to her. Matt didn’t entirely understand, but Archie seemed happier with this idea, and Shelly definitely seemed happier with this idea- so he certainly didn’t mind.
Afterwards, Shelly ends up privately talking to Archie some more, where he confided a lot in her about stuff he never told her before. It was a lot to take in, and she definitely wasn’t happy about his plans having always been to more or less commit genocide on humanity without ever having told them- but at the end of the day, he’s still her friend, no damage has actually been done, and he’s finally talking to her about it so they can work it out. As such, with some help from her, Archie ends up going to therapy on the regular to help keep him in a better headset.
-After all of this, Archie pulls Maxie aside to let him know he’s giving up on Kyogre, and Maxie… just doesn’t know how to feel about it at all- doesn’t even know if he can trust him. He certainly wasn’t expecting this either way. For a while, Archie just goes about his day on Pasio, while Maxie went very very quiet, just watching him from a distance.
They both spend so much time on this- suddenly given up was something he never thought would be an option, and it’s a lot to process. Besides, Archie could be lying. ….But truthfully, he’s known the other way too long to believe that. Archie is serious about this, and it’s not particularly hard to tell.
So, after a lot of hemming and hawing, he too finally rings up Courtney and Tabitha and calls of their mission with Groudon.
Magma and Aqua are both just legit regular environmental organisations now.
-Now with that decision made, they end up talking a lot over between each other themselves. About their past, about their teams, and about what they want to do now. This is where they finally decide to actually give their relationship another chance as well. Not necessarily as a romantic relationship- thought not strictly as just friends either. They decide to just take it slow, see what they’re comfortable with, and see where it takes them from there.
(A lot of trainers in Pasio actually worry this is when they got into a fight- since they stop acting overly affectionate to put on an act, and instead get to have awkward conversations trying to rekindle their relationship. Everyone is so worried about what happened. Sorry guys, they’ll be okay)
-Though they fully intent on going back to Hoenn and their teams, they’re not in a hurry to leave and stick out their job contract which only were for about half a year total anyways. During this, even Steven and Wallace start noticing a change in them and finally lower their guard a bit. They never do end up attempting to get to the legendaries- they’re just enjoying their time here now.
-When they do finally get back to Hoenn, they merge the teams and help the land and the sea together now.
Archie also ends up convincing Maxie to join him for therapy sometimes- even without them almost ending the world, they do still both have their things to work trough.
-Groudon and Kyogre just vibe on Pasio now. They let kids battle them for fun sometimes. They’re doing alright.
-Brendan and May end up visiting Archie and Maxie a lot! That’s their cool gay uncles now.
-Somewhere along the way, as time passes, they actually end up legitimising the marriage documents they faked at the very start. And they still return to Pasio from time to time to meet up with the friends they made there. :]
Apologies if any of this was messy or unclear! it was a lot to try and condense down into a single post and I did my best, but ykno. if there did appear to be smth missing feel free to shoot me a message or an ask orz
also this is my second time writing this post- first time i made the stupid mistake of typing it up in browser. And after over an hour of typing this all up…. tumblr refreshed for no reason, and deleted all of it. so writing this all a second time has been even harder then the first. ;; it hurt so bad.
Also, I do have a lot of thoughts n ideas abt the actual relationships they end up having w other characters on the island, but I’m saving that for another post! With the premise of Pasio there’s just so much potential to stuff all these diff characters from diff games into a place togehter and i want to make the most of that- so its prolly gonna b another long post lmao. i wont make this one even longer then it already is, so diff post it is
just know that they did in fact once see Giovanni on the island, and they almost ended up throwing hands.
(bonus; the link to the page where I keep all my oras HC posts and comics sorted)
--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!
--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention.
But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.
And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.
a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.
other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated.
(w.c. 4836)
masterlist | next chapter
Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further.
The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task.
Shirtless.
And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has.
Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie.
The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally.
But this? This is outrageous.
This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out.
So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker.
He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”
“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted.
It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.
“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”
He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek.
It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that.
Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this.
He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end.
Quickly.
**
It does not end quickly.
It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.
It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it.
He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.
How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality.
He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is.
“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.
The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable.
In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else.
But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.
“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”
Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”
“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder.
“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.
“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”
“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.
“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t.
This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime.
He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory.
Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.
It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away.
Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”
“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker.
“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”
“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head.
He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”
His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.
Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body.
Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.
Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”
Scratch that. They have one idea.
The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink.
“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”
Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.
Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you.
He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”
Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”
“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”
“And what did (y/n) say?”
Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”
Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.”
“No, actually, she—”
You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.
A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.
You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it.
Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones.
The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.
“Uh… Can I help you?”
The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”
You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his.
You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again.
“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.
The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”
Patience is below the ground now.
The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”
“Why?”
“So that you can help us get closer to him!”
“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed.
Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot.
You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.
“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”
There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour.
But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.
You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?”
(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)
She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”
“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.
You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it.
It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.
The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.
You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”
She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.
“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”
You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.
“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”
Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.
It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you.
It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.
He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.
It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.
“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips.
“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake.
“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”
**
“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact.
It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you.
This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern.
You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food.
Win-win.
And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.
But this is going too far.
Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot.
“You’re joking, right?”
This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.
His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”
“No.”
“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.
“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.
“Does it matter?”
“Whose?”
“...Oikawa.”
Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.
That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months.
If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is.
Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.
Damn him and that hard head of his.
Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.
“Will you please be my girlfriend?”
Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls.
Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.
Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now.
end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.
i am absolutely owing my life to @berryzxx bc this bitch (/pos) has given me all my ideas like this wouldn't even exist if it weren't for her also sorry for how late this is?!? i had writers block and then i was packing up to leave uni and go back home woohoo sorry if i accidentally made it third person halfway through bc im stupid
sorry for the wait hope this makes up for it!! didn't wanna release angst and fluff at too different times bc i don't hate you people
pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader
warnings: angst angsty angst angst gut wrenching heart breaking angst, arguments (oohOOHOoH) swearing, not so fake dating (but are they?), the and y/n being idiots, not a happy ending, not proof read (as usual) and my writing
summary: being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. you, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to theodore nott.
im not that mean, the fluffy version can be found here.
once again these beautiful dividers have been created by @cafekitsune!! you can find these exact dividers in a wider range of colours here!
word count: 1.7k
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: fluff
The tension between you and Theo had been brewing for days, each passing moment adding weight to the unspoken emotions that hung heavily in the air. Unable to bear the silence any longer, you initiated the conversation, the frustration and confusion evident in your voice.
"Theo, can we talk?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and determination.
He glanced up from his book, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. "Sure, what's up?"
"It's about us," you began cautiously, the words feeling heavier than you'd anticipated. "I feel like there's something here, between us. But I'm confused about where you stand."
Theo's expression flickered, a fleeting mixture of uncertainty and conflict clouding his features. "I don't know if diving into a relationship right now is the best idea."
"But this isn't just about a relationship," you insisted, your voice rising in exasperation. "It's about acknowledging what's been brewing between us, Theo."
He sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm not sure what I want, Y/N. It's complicated."
"Complicated?" You scoffed, the frustration simmering within you. "What's so complicated about being honest?"
"Why can't you understand?" Theo's voice rose, mirroring your frustration. "I don't want to mess things up and end up causing you pain."
"You're not getting it!" Your voice echoed in the charged atmosphere. "I need to know where we stand, and your indecision isn't helping."
Theo's reluctance grated on your nerves, fueling the intensity of the argument. "I need you to be honest with me, Theo. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen!"
"I know, but I'm conflicted," he admitted, his tone wavering.
Frustration boiled within you. "Conflicted about what? Us?"
His gaze shifted away, a mix of guilt and concern clouding his features. "I... I don't want Jess to hurt you."
"I can handle Jess, she isn't your responsibility," you asserted firmly, the frustration simmering beneath your words.
"You don't get it, do you?" Theo's voice cut through the tension, edged with frustration. "She's MY ex."
His words stung, and the heat of the argument intensified. "And that gives you the right to dictate what's good for me?" you shot back, your voice rising in indignation.
"Look, I'm just trying to protect you," Theo retorted, his tone laced with urgency.
"Protect me? From what?" Your voice rose, the frustration boiling over. "I can handle my own affairs, Theo. I don't need you deciding what's best for me!"
The tension crackled between you, each word spoken a testament to the underlying emotions that had escalated into a heated argument. The clash of opinions and conflicting desires hung heavily in the charged atmosphere, leaving the potential relationship teetering on the edge of uncertainty. The anticipation in the room was suffocating.
Days stretched into weeks, and the awkward distance between you and Theo became the new norm. Despite the avoidance, every accidental encounter sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. Butterflies danced in your stomach, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you once shared, now lost in a fog of misunderstanding.
Each time your paths crossed, the unresolved tension simmered beneath the surface. The silent longing for resolution battled with the ache of hurt and confusion, leaving you caught in a turmoil of emotions whenever Theo came into view.
The avoidance hadn't dulled the effect he had on you. His presence was still magnetic, drawing your attention despite the unspoken rift that divided you both. The simple sight of him evoked a rush of emotions, a testament to the bond you once shared and the rift that now tore you apart.
With every passing moment, the yearning for clarity clashed with the fear of confronting the situation, leaving you entangled in a web of unresolved emotions and unspoken apologies, the butterflies a painful yet undeniable reminder of the connection you couldn't seem to sever.
Summoning your courage, you approached Theo's dorm, determined to offer an overdue apology. A hesitant knock resulted in eerie silence. Unsure of Theo's whereabouts, you glanced around the deserted hallway, your resolve mingling with uncertainty.
Taking a tentative step forward, you reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. The decision to enter felt both intrusive and necessary. The room was devoid of life, the emptiness echoing the void that had developed between you and Theo.
Your gaze drifted to Theo's desk, where a single piece of paper lay. The handwriting was unmistakable, sending a jolt of emotions through you as you read the words:
Last night was so fun, so glad you dropped Y/N.
- Jess
Disbelief and a pang of deception ricocheted through you. The words were like a gut punch, shattering the fragile hope you had held for reconciliation and understanding. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you grappled with the apparent evidence before you.
Your mind raced, attempting to process the meaning behind Jess's note. It seemed to confirm your worst fears, undermining the fragile trust you had in the situation and leaving your heart aching with the weight of assumed betrayal.
With tear-filled eyes and a heavy heart, you turned away, the intention of offering an apology now replaced by a swirl of hurt. The unaddressed misunderstanding had taken root, poisoning the hope for amends and leaving you in a cloud of uncertainty and hurt.
Approaching Theo with a determined stride, you took a deep breath before speaking. "Can we talk?" you requested, your tone indicating the urgency of the matter.
Theo nodded, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"
Without further ado, you gently pulled Theo out into the corridor, seeking a bit of privacy before diving into the conversation. "What's going on?" you asked, urgency evident in your voice.
Theo's brow furrowed in response, confusion evident in his expression. "What do you mean?"
In response, you reached into your pocket, retrieving the note. Holding it up for Theo to see, you arched an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on his face.
"What's this?" Theo questioned, puzzled.
"You tell me," you replied, your tone laced with a hint of accusation and urgency.
Theo's eyes widened as he caught sight of the note, a mix of shock and confusion crossing his features. "I… I don't know," he stammered, genuine bewilderment resonating in his voice.
The weight of the moment hung heavily between you, the note acting as a stark reminder of the rift that had developed. A tense silence pervaded the corridor, each passing moment thick with unspoken tension, the truth seemingly just out of reach.
Amidst Theo's genuine confusion and your distress, the mystery behind the note remained unsolved, leaving both of you ensnared in a cloud of uncertainty and doubt, the truth obscured by a veil of suspicion.
Holding out the note for Theo to see, you watched his expression closely as he read it. His eyes widened in surprise, confusion etched across his features. "She sent you that?" he asked, incredulous.
"What? No!" you responded quickly, a mix of frustration and confusion in your voice. "She sent it to you. It was in your room."
The implication that Jess had sent the note only added to the confusion between you and Theo.
heo's eyes flickered from the note to your face, disbelief written across his features. "I've never seen this before," he stated firmly, his voice tinged with confusion.
"Well, yeah, I took it," you admitted, the tension in the air palpable.
His brows furrowed in surprise. "Wait, you were snooping around in my dorm?" Theo's voice betrayed a mix of shock and frustration, his focus narrowing on your admission.
"What? That's what you're focused on?" you retorted, a touch of exasperation coloring your tone. The accusatory tone caught you off guard, adding to the already tumultuous conversation.
"Jess is obviously trying to screw up our relationship," Theo retorted, a trace of agitation and concern lacing his words.
"Or maybe you're just making up excuses. How about that, huh?" The words escaped your lips, edged with annoyance and simmering anger, as you grappled with the ease of his denial.
"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Theo's voice held a note of incredulity, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.
"Right now, I am accusing you of sleeping with her and cheating on me," you declared, the accusation spilling out in frustration and hurt.
"Wow, you really don't trust me, huh?" Theo's voice held a note of hurt, his expression a mix of disappointment and irritation.
"Currently, I don't," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret and exasperation.
"Well, If you can't trust me, I can't be with you," Theo replied, his tone laced with a touch of resignation and hurt.
The weight of the situation settled heavily between you, the conversation having taken an unexpected turn. Hurt and distrust hung like a veil, casting a shadow on the once-promising connection between you and Theo.
"Wait, are you breaking up with me?" The words stumbled out, your voice heavy with dejection, a lump forming in your throat.
"Well, you know what? Maybe Jess was right. We weren't really dating," Theo's voice held a trace of sorrow, the admission heavy with a crushing finality.
The realization sank in, the weight of his words like a sharp dagger through your heart. A shroud of sadness enveloped you, the abrupt end of something you thought was real leaving you feeling hollow and shattered.
In the deafening silence that followed, a heavy sadness settled upon you, your heart aching with the bitter sting of a relationship unraveled by doubt and mistrust.
"I'm sorry y/n. I really did try." Theo replies.
"Oh. So this is it then."
"Bye y/n."
"Goodbye," escaped through clenched teeth, a silent echo reverberating through every fiber of your being, each syllable a struggle against the strain of every muscle in your body.
And there you stood, the sudden and sharp cessation of what might have been, seeping into your core. It left you standing in the haunting echoes of a love's demise, surrounded by the desolate remnants of something once cherished.
hi hello! this is the end of the series. check out the fluffy ver here if you'd like!! here are a few fics to read while i work on my next one:
masterlist
reader's choice (mattheo x reader)
reader's choice (theodore x reader)
i honestly had so much fun writing this thank you for sticking along with this <33 sorry for how late this is i was like so busy and im also lazy so yea
SUMMARY: life with korra from confession to marriage
WORD COUNT: 2.1k
WARNINGS: no major spoilers
A/N: SOMEONE WITH T A S T E, i hope you don’t mind but i kinda just did the same thing i did for my zuko headcannons so feel free to scroll straight to the during the relationship bit if you just want dating korra h/c :D
also i have 300 followers now what, i literally had 200 like yesterday hi everyone <3 um i really need to start pulling out all the stops
GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP
she’s a simp.
that’s it. thats the headcannon. she has literally liked you since she met you and has said nothing, but you probably know since she’s so damn OBVIOUS ABOUT IT
korra is very in tuned with her emotions so when she realizes she likes you she’s pretty okay with it, a little more flustered during your interactions, but after a while her goal is to make you feel how she feel which is flustered.
she has no shame though, she knows she is hot and she wants you to know she thinks you are hot
lots of flirting on her end, so naturally you kinda begin to think she is joking and think nothing of it
this was not her intent, and now that you are desensitized to her flirting and not reacting flustered like you did when she first started she is frustrated™
you were not understanding that she very much likes you
stupid
she hasn’t said anything outright to you about it though, which is the main reason you are like lol this is a joke, my crush fake flirts with me i am okay
spoiler alert: you are not okay with this it hurts ow
so now shes getting ridiculously affectionate with you, which, tbh, she always was, but not its RIDICULOUS, korra is out here throwing an arm around your shoulder, randomly grabbing your hand, kissing your cheek
shes trying really hard to get her point across like really really hard
like painfully hard
if she likes you its probably because your fun, like you really spice up her life and introduce her to new things and go on really dumb adventures and really important missions with her and you put up with her and wow now korra is simping oops
you’re also probably forcing her to stay healthy, since i honestly think that despite having such an appetite, korra will forget to eat and take care of herself sometimes.
she is so bad at drinking water i swear to goD
there are two situations here
situation one is where korra finally realizes that you CANNOT READ SIGNALS AT ALL and decides she going to be upfront with you about her feelings
she’s either going to just flat out kiss you next time she sees you or spill all her emotions, of both in no particular order
you’re like reading in your room in the air temple, just vibing, and you see her coming towards you with a determined look on her face and you’re like ??? lol okay
you go back to reading only to have her hand reach under you jaw and she brings you into a kiss and now you’re like LOL OKAY
you honestly think that this is just another one of her stunts to get you flustered and means nothing
stoopid
and then she pulls apart and just starts spilling her feelings and you’re like :O omg me too
and she’s like, “great, we’re dating now.” and suddenly she’s kissing you again, and between kisses you’re like, “im sorry what?”
“you heard me. do you have a problem with that?”
you just kiss her again
situation two is where you get sick of her and realize woah she may or may not be in love with you and so you confront her, and now there is a lot of yelling because you are frustrated™ and like screw you korra
you honestly think she is either madly in love with you and just doing this as a joke, and you genuinely think the latter is more like so you lowkey start crying and korra immediately begins to panic
she’s like, “why would i ever joke about that! i’ve literally been trying to get that through your thick skull this whole time!”
this time you kiss her first and korra is throwing a party in her head but she also feels really bad for making you cry oops
DURING THE RELATIONSHIP
okay so korra happens to be very much a simp
and you happen to be very much the mom friend™ it doesn’t matter if you are a boy girl or none of the above, that is your trademark my friend
she’s very affectionate and now that the two of you are dating she is at a whole new level.
important meeting? you are in her lap she does not care. war meeting? she is cuddling you as you explain the plans of attack and DAMN DO YOU LOOK GOOD DOING it
since being the avatar is MUCH more a political position now though, she does try to keep your relationship slightly on the down low, even before you were dating, you both had reporters constantly asking about your relationship and she doesn’t really like that
they are nosy and she does not approve. korra understands wanting to know about her avatar duties, but anything outside of that in regards to her personal life annoys her
loves kissing you, and when she does it tends to be intense and passionate. after a particularly tough day though, her kisses can either be slow and sensual because she just wants to have a nice soft and domestic day with you
OR
they can be harsh and almost brutish, she will get rough with you because she is highkey pissed at everything that day and making out you with is her stress reliever
really likes cuddling and anything domestic in general. she’s really happy with you, and she kinda has all the love languages
she seeks validation when the press is particularly harsh since being the avatar is HARD and as much as she wants to, she cannot please anyone, so please tell her she is doing amazing
so many acts of service up in here, she will randomly do stuff for you, spontaneity is kinda her vibe ya know
very vocal and expressive about her feelings, communication is key with her
arguments aren’t a rarity tbh, but when they do happen they tend to be more of debates over little things like what’s better, pineapple pizza or no?
major fights tend to end poorly since she can be a little stubborn when it comes to such things, but she will admit she was wrong and apologize IF she was wrong
if she wasn’t wrong but the argument got out of hand, she’ll apologize for that but will affirm her correctness
kiss her scars, she has them, and she is proud of them but
support her at her pro bending matches and she will DIE, so happy, literally sososososososo happy, hugs you, loves you, yes
treats you as an equal no matter what, even if people think that as the avatar she should see herself as something more than
very protective of you.
like if someone flirts with you, she is clingy x10. if someone hits on you despite your protests, she HITS them. if someone threatens to hurt you, she promises to end them.
MARRIAGE N STUFF
WELP
she’s gonna realize she wants to propose when she almost loses you, or in the middle of a battle. when the reality of potentially losing you hits her she is gonna realize she wants to live out the rest of her life by your side, protecting you
situation one is where she literally, in the MIDDLE OF BATTLE, without a ring, just proposes. you are being a baddie, bending if you are a bender, fighting the opposing enemy, looking MIGHTY FINE while doing it
“marry me.”
you falter, nearly getting hit as your head whips over to her and you’re like, “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”
and she throws a giant rock at the opposition, temporarily indisposing them, “yes?? why wouldn’t i be.”
Someone comes up behind you and you elbow them in the face and ram your foot into their knee, knocking them down, “RIGHT NOW?”
she throws a whip of water in your direction and you dodge it, allowing her to take out the enemy behind you, and you throw a whole dagger at her to do the same. “that was close.” she narrows her eyes at you bc you lowkey look like you wanna kill her rn as you two hide behind a barricade for cover and an explosion washes over it, “you could’ve killed me.”
“you just about gave me a heart attack when you PROPOSED two minutes ago, need i remind you.”
korra raised a brow at you, “is that a no...?”
“do you even have a ring?”
korra gives you a look that gives you the answer and you groan, “i cannot believe you.”
“you really should’ve expected this.”
“i know.”
“i get to pick the ring then?”
“you’re probably going to plan the whole wedding.”
“alright.”
theres a boom from beyond the barricade you two have hidden behind as korra looks to you, “alright?”
“i’ll marry you.” you elaborate, giving her a bright smile.
situation two is more depressing lol
you have been SHOT oops, don’t die pls because korra CANNOT handle it after everything that has happened to her, so if you die she’s done
she’s kinda just sitting at your bed side and it hits her that you could die basically any day now, and she would have so many regrets
she wished she kissed you more, told you she loved you more, held you longer, spent more mornings with you and your bedhead, she wished she learnt to cook so that she could surprise you with a meal when you get home from a long day of work, she wishes she did a lot of things
she wishes you two were married.
korra is now having an existential crisis, and everyone is telling her that she has to go home, get some rest, you’ll wake up eventually, you’ll get better, but you don’t wanna wake up to korra being a mess
she knew they were right, you always scolded her for not taking care of herself, so she decided to follow some of their wishes
Korra cannot bring herself to go home, there are so many reminders of you that it hurts, and she kinda just decides she’ll stay in a hotel and wash up and such.
besides, you are her home.
after leaving the hotel, she ends up going the jeweler and buying the ring she believes screams you
when korra returns to the hospital, she contemplated proposing right then and there, before realizing that you’d probably yell at her for choosing such a ridiculous time and you already had a lot on your plate
once the two of you return home and you are in the midst of recovery, she did learn to cook, so you wouldn’t feel the need to do so, and given your situation she fears you’ll injure yourself further in the process.
you two are eating dinner and you’re babbling on about something you’d read, and she suddenly decides to get up and walk over to you, leaving you like ???
then she gets down on one knee and you are like :O
she’s like, “marry me.”
naturally, you start crying and nodding because wow this is such an intimate moment and just happiness
kissinggggg after that
the wedding is, under NO CIRCUMSTANCE public, the most private and intimate wedding ever. korra hates reporters after her life as the avatar, she doesnt want strangers at her wedding.
any and everyone she has ever fought beside is there though, its wholesome and nice
definitely cries when she sees you at the altar
her vows are MASTERFUL AND TEARJERKING
its a pretty basic wedding though, unless you prefer something over the top, the food is nice a mix of both your cultures and favorite things and there’s beautiful lighting
definitely done on air temple island, and tbh tenzin would probably walk you down the aisle because i said so
married life with her is even better, she lives for he domesticity of it all, especially lazy sunday mornings with the light filtering in and you just looking all pretty and having a lil fun
iykyk
honeymoon in the spirit word lads
bolin is your number one supporter
life with korra is a 10/10 i do recommend it
A/N: im kinda in love with korra lol this requests made me happy
Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive themes but no actual smut, fighting?
Request: n/a
A/N: Okay I’m actually kinda proud of this one. I really love the dynamic of Obitine so I tried to translate that into fic without stealing the entire plot, but it steal is very obviously similar. I really hope the flash back scenes and change in pov. make sense, I had some issues trying to figure out what tense I should use for them, but hopefully it’s not confusing. IM SORRY THE ENDING IS RUSHED!!! As always please let me know what you think!!
Word Count: 4.5k
The news of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi’s return to Sundari caused an array of emotions throughout the Palace. The Royal Guards were more watchful than usual, still not truly able to release the years of grudges held against the Jedi Order and Satine, was glad to be reunited with her old friend, despite the impromptu meeting being over possible changes in where the planet stood in the Clone Wars; a figure dressed in Mandalorian armour attacking a Republic cruiser would bring anyone to question the supposed position of neutrality Mandalore held.
You, on the other hand, were instantly filled with dread. Years have passed from the last time you have laid eyes on Obi-Wan and still the mere mention of him causes hundreds of memories to resurface.
When Satine became Duchess of Mandalore, many people were happy, but there were still insurgents that would not accept her pacifist leadership. They would send bounty hunters to try to eliminate her and the power she held. These constant threats against her life compelled Obi-Wan and his Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn to remove her and you, her most trusted advisor, from Mandalore and live on the run for nearly a year.
You lived one day at a time, trying to focus on surviving the present and live to see what uncertainties the future held. Most people would think that living in such dubious conditions would be terrifying, but it was one of the best years of your life.
Right when you met Obi-Wan, you were instantly turned off by him, despite his handsome looks. His diplomatic kindness and reverence felt impersonal and fake instead of charming and he was far too arrogant for your liking. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, was someone you befriended very quickly. His empathetic and wise nature instantly connected the two of you and he became almost like a father-figure. He was constantly giving you advice and was the only reason you tolerated Obi-Wan in the beginning.
Obi-Wan instantly felt this disfavor towards him, bringing out his sarcasm and frequent jabs, making him even more unbearable. The two of you spent weeks either trying to see who could irritate the other more or just completely ignoring each other, to both Qui Gon and Satine’s dismay. Qui-Gon always tried convincing you that you and Obi-Wan would make a great pair if the two of you would just stop being so stubborn, but his advice fell onto deaf ears.
Your hostility towards each other did die however, when you were being chased by venom-mites on a cliff on Draboon. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fought them off as you and Satine escaped to the ship. Satine ran onto the boarding ramp and just as you were about to join her, you tripped over a divot in the ground, the momentum of it almost completely hurtling you off the side of the cliff, had you not grabbed a hold of the ledge.
All you can remember was the absolute terror that coursed through your veins and Satine’s horrified scream. Your body was hung over what seemed to be a bottomless pit and the only thing anchoring it were your hands; hands that were rather weak from a life devoid of physical exertion and that were slipping as each second passed.
You struggled, trying to find a way to climb up to solid land, but soon realized all the effort was fruitless. Obi-Wan, startled by Satine’s cries for help, turned around and saw your rather unfortunate situation. His eyes widened and he quickly turned from his Master and ran towards where you hung. When he was close enough, he slid to his knees and stretched his arm out to you.
“(Y/N), Take my hand!”
You wanted to, you really did, but the fear of falling to transfer your grip from the ground to his hand was too debilitating.
“Obi-Wan, I can’t, I’ll fall!” You managed to choke out
“You have to trust me!” His voice was loud, but still held its usual steadiness. His eyes however gave away his true emotions. They were frantically searching your own trying to convince you to lay your life in his hands. You could practically feel his terror radiating off of him.
Realizing you were out of options, you slowly released your grip and reached out to grasp his outstretched hand. Your fingers barely grazed his own and you knew it was too late. Gravity met you full force, and you felt yourself scream as your body began to plummet.
Then, all of a sudden, a warm cradling feeling caught you, interrupting your imminent death. You felt yourself rise over the cliff and saw Obi-Wan’s concentrated face and twitching hand. When you were about a foot above the ground, you dropped into Obi-Wan’s arms, and let out a sob of relief. Your body was racked with tears, still trying to process what just happened, and Obi-Wan just held you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, seeking comfort for your near death, and leaned against Obi-Wan’s own shaking body.
That day was the start of a new relationship for the two of you. You began to confide in each other more and felt the trust between the two of you grow as time passed. Obi-Wan dropped his guard of fake diplomacy and began to act more like himself. Of course, he still had his sarcastic humor, but it was more endearing now and his kindness felt genuine.
Soon, your relationship became more than just finding comfort in each other. When one of you couldn’t sleep, you and Obi-Wan would just sit together and talk until you became tired or if it was time to get up. Being around him was effortless and there was an understanding the two of you had that was rare to find. Of course, there was still tension between the two of you but it was different, less hostile.
If your relationship with him had ended there, innocent and full of what-ifs, you would have been just as excited as Satine was to see him. You wouldn’t currently be standing in the throne room, shaking with anxiety, waiting for him to step through the doors.
Just as you begin to contemplate completely ditching Obi-Wan’s arrival, the doors are opened and you hear the Prime Minister talking to him.
You look down and try to not draw attention to yourself, which is impossible considering Satine insisted you walk in beside her. Satine knew you and Obi-Wan were close, but you never told just how far your relationship with him went, so she didn’t see anything with the reunion. She sits down at the throne and you stand next to her. They greet each other briefly and the sound of Obi-Wan being so close to you again gives you the courage to finally meet his gaze.
He looks absolutely radiant, somehow looking more attractive than you remembered. His hair is a bit longer and a perfectly trimmed bear adorns his handsome face. You can’t help but stare, trying to take in the view you have been deprived of for almost 15 years.
“After all these years, you're even more beautiful than ever,” He says towards Satine, but still keeps his eyes locked on you.
You break the intense eye contact and try to not let his smooth words affect you. He doesn’t falter at your discreet rejection and continues the diplomatic conversation between him and Satine. She invites him on a walk through the city, and to your dismay, she gestures for you to join them.
You walk just behind Satine, allowing the two of them to lead the way. Air speeders whistle by around you and people walk around the city, going about their day, unbothered by the Duchess and Jedi moving around them. You hear Satine talk about the current predicament Mandalore has found itself in with the Death Watch and you know you should be paying attention and adding into the conversation for sake of not seeming rude, but can’t help but carefully watch Obi-Wan’s side profile as he walks.
It’s perfect just like the rest of him and triggers yet another memory in your mind: you and his first kiss. It was a couple months after the incident on Draboon, and the four of you were forced to spend the night in a cave because of a rather wild storm. You sat on the cold floor near the fire Qui-Gon made, unable to rest, just watching the rain hit the mouth of the cave for hours. Unlike you, Satine used her time wisely, quickly finding much needed sleep. Qui-Gon had been meditating earlier, but now seemed to be resting as well, facing the inside of the cave. Obi-Wan sat cross-legged, reading a book about, if you remembered from his earlier explanation correctly, the method of Jar’Kai, farthest from the fire.
It wasn’t long before he noticed your restless form and decided to sit down next to you, close enough for your shoulders to touch.
“What’s up with you?” He asked, nudging your shoulder with his own.
Usually this kind of touch wouldn’t have caused you any issues, but more recently, you began to take note of every physical contact the two of you made. Obi-Wan was rather reserved, so knowing he so frequently chose to make contact with you gave you conflicting feelings. You turned and looked at him and suddenly felt rather sad.
“Don’t you wish we could be more carefree, like other people our age?”
He looked taken aback from your sudden question, but soon began to contemplate, fingers coming up to gently grasp his chin.
After a moment, he looked back at you and shook his head.
“I never truly have thought about it. Why?” He questions further.
You knew why. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, Obi-Wan has found a special place in your heart. Months of confiding and building trust with one another let you get to know his true personality, making it impossible not to feel so much for him. But, although you were just teenagers, the both of you had responsibilities and expectations of you. He was a Jedi and you had to stay focused on helping Satine rebuild Mandalore after the raging civil war.
So instead of answering his question, you decided to satiate the need to feel reckless by standing up and walking out into the rain. The feel of the cold drops on your skin should have annoyed you, but instead it made you feel alive; it helped numb the feelings you so badly wish you didn’t have.
“What are you doing!” Obi-Wan yelled, looking alarmed at your sudden uncharacteristic decision.
“I’m living!!” You replied, soaking in the feeling of the rain and quickly running back and grabbing his hands with your dripping ones.
“Come on, Obi Wan, join me” You urged. His eyes are wide in shock but, nonetheless, takes off his outer robes and walks out into the rain.
His trust to join you with no question made you feel even more giddy and you dragged him into the middle of the valley that the cave sat in. You grabbed his hands and began to dance, if you could even call it that. Obi-Wan, as comfortable as he was with you, immediately stiffened up, since he was never truly taught how to dance. This setback, however, caused little pause in your actions and you just spun with him around in a circle.
The drumming of the rain did little to drown out your laugh whenever Obi-Wan would stumble, to his dismay, but he too began to chuckle at the unskilled dancing going on. You gazed up at him and just from the look on his face you knew your feelings for him were going nowhere. His hair laid flat on his head, soaked, and his face was covered in water and he looked breathtaking. He made you feel safe and trusted and maybe that was the reason you decided to risk it all.
You grabbed his face between your hands and pressed your lips to his. It was short-lived, with him quickly pulling away with his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.
You instantly were filled with regret, embarrassed from the rejection, and went to run back into the cave to hide from your mistake. You felt selfish, trying to act on feelings that completely disrespected everything Obi-Wan lived for. Right when you pulled away from his arms, Obi-Wan quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back in.
His hands went up to cradle your face and he kissed you. It was overwhelming how much emotion he was channeling through it. The kiss was needy and hard but his hands were gentle, one of them coming up to tangle itself in your soaked hair. You could tell he was inexperienced, his form being a tad messy, but the passion put into it made up for any mistakes.
You feel a hand rest on your shoulder and are instantly pulled out of the memory. You see Satine looking at you, worry written all over her face.
“(Y/N), are you alright?” She asks, her eyes searching your face.
You go to answer her and shut down any of her worries about you, but catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan and lose the words. His face looks almost distraught and you know he must have seen what you were thinking of. You force yourself to look away from him and respond to Satine.
“Yes, sorry I must have zoned out.” You apologize, hoping she buys your white lie. “As a matter of fact is it alright if I return to the Palace, I think I need a little rest”
She still looks worried, but quickly approves of your request and turns back to walk with Obi-Wan, who still seems bothered by your memory, but remains cordial and attentive.
You turn and go back to the Palace, a single guard flanking your side. When you return, you do exactly what you told Satine, you lie on your bed and rest, or at least try to.
***
When Obi-Wan sensed the memory you were thinking of, he was no longer able to focus on the important matter at hand. Even after the bombing on Mandalore after you left and him nearly being crushed to death on Concordia, he found himself thinking about it. He remembers that day so clearly; the first time he truly gave into his temptations.
He had worked so hard to stay in the Jedi Order- nobody wanted him as a Padawan. He was always not enough and it was only by fate that Qui-Gon decided to take him under his wing. He knew better than anyone that the title of Jedi was invaluable and there you were making him question everything he ever knew. He knew Jedi weren’t supposed to form attachments or express their emotions, so why did he keep indulging himself with your presence.
The moment you kissed him, Obi-Wan’s instinct was to run. He was powerless against the attachment he had to you, so he knew the best way to stop it was to completely remove himself from the situation. He had every intention of doing so when he pulled away the first time, but then his other instincts kicked in. He felt the feel of your hands on his face, the closeness of your body, and realized there was no way he could let this go, at least not now.
Days after the kiss, Obi-Wan was filled with disgust at himself. He hated that he let himself indulge. He hated how he completely disregarded everything he was ever taught. He hated the fact that he loved every second of it, and what he hated most of all is that he began to wonder how it would feel to kiss your neck, skin, and other very un Jedi-like places.
Because of this, the months of progress the two of you made in your relationship were completely erased. He knew it was unfair to you, but he had to uphold the morals of a Jedi, and being around you made that goal impossible. He reverted back to the arrogant and guarded Padawan and pushed you away every time you tried to fix things.
But his efforts were fruitless. You knew Obi-Wan and were not able to let go of his sudden change in personality.
His Master also noticed the sudden change in relationship and decided to take matters in his own hands. He decided to send the two of you off on a mission to retrieve some sort of plant and herb.
The two of you walked through the woods, The entire trip, Obi-Wan ignored every attempt of yours to engage in conversation and didn’t even truly acknowledge your presence. You finally decided to confront him, to his dismay.
“Was it truly that horrifying to kiss me, Obi-Wan”
“What?” He said, trying to keep the act up.
“Was it so bad to the point of ignoring me,” You pushed, getting angrier by the minute.
“I hardly see how that is relevant to the current task at han-” He began to deflect but was cut off by you grabbing his shoulder and whipping him around. Angry tears began to form in your eyes and at the site, Obi-Wan felt his facade crack.
“You don’t get to decide to drop me when things get hard, Obi-Wan” You spat, emphasizing your words by jabbing your finger on his chest.
Obi-Wan tried. He tried so hard to stay away from you. But the look of anger and heartbreak on your face made him, give into your spell, once again. He grabbed your hand and looked into your eyes.
He knew he was going to hate himself after, like last time, but the temporary pleasure it brought was impossible to resist, so he kissed you.
The kiss was hard and full of anger: anger at you, at himself, at the Jedi Order, and at the world for making you his weakness. You instantly reacted bringing your hand around to run through his short auburn hair and pulling your body as close as possible.
Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, letting his tongue explore the inners of your mouth, inciting a moan from your lips. Obi-Wan felt himself flush from the obscene sound and couldn’t help but feel bolder from the thought of bringing you pleasure. He started to kiss along your jawline and down your neck, his brain becoming muddled from the pleasure of it all.
You had begun to take off his robes and that was when he came to his senses. He knew he had to stop this, it was completely un Jedi-like and uncivilized, especially out in the open. His thoughts were immediately shut down however when you slid your hand down his chest. He decided to burn every single pleasure and feeling into memory and worry later. Your hand began to venture between his legs and that was the second time Obi-Wan gave into temptation.
You were all he could think about while fighting on Concordia, and he knew this was why Jedi don’t form attachments. Just the memory of your relationship caused his judgement to be clouded. He couldn’t imagine how he would have been if you were there during the fight with Death Watch: constantly worried, focused on an individual rather than the greater good.
He was relieved to get on to the Coronet and away from the memory of his failures as a Jedi, but that relief was short-lived when he saw you boarding the ship alongside Satine.
***
Satine, as strong-willed as ever, insisted on you going to Coruscant with her. She didn’t want you to be alone on Mandalore, vulnerable to the rapidly more aggressive Death Watch attacks. Once aboard the ship, you settle into your temporary room and head down to meet back up with the Duchess, who was currently discussing her position of neutrality with other senators down the hall.
As you walk towards the meeting, you run into a young, handsome man and Obi-Wan. You immediately freeze, not prepared for the sudden direct interaction and just stare at him.
“O-Obi-Wan” You stutter out, not knowing how to fully go about this.
Obi-Wan looks equally as startled, but recovers quickly and introduces you to the younger man.
“(Y/N), this is Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan and Anakin this is Adviser (L/N).”
You tear your eyes away from Obi-Wan’s and quickly greet Anakin with a nod and small smile.
Wordlessly, you walk through the door and head to Satine’s side, not before hearing the Padawan say, “On a first name basis, huh, Master?” and a small grunt following a hitting noise.
The meeting was full of high tensions, many, including Obi-Wan, disagreeing with Mandalore’s neutrality. It was always an issue when brought up, and even you saw the issues with it. The idea of staying neutral and not interfering in a war is noble but is much harder in execution and can cause more turmoil in the long run.
As soon as the meeting is dismissed, you file out of the room, trying to avoid any more confrontation. You head to the room where you are supposed to have dinner and find Satine waiting for you.
Obi-Wan enters the room, walking with other leaders. All you had to do was get to Coruscant. Once there you can get out of here and not have to think about Obi-Wan Kenobi ever again. You zone out for most of the meal, not noticing the nervous atmosphere starting to settle over everyone or the warning Obi-Wan gives about a situation going on below decks.
You are suddenly pulled out of your own head, when you hear him yell to the guards about securing the lifts. You see the blue light of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber and Satine quickly stands up from the table, bringing you with her.
A horrifying crunching sound is heard and the doors to the lift begins to wrench open, revealing a giant spider droid. It easily knocks down the guards and clambers onto the table, quickly approaching the group of senators. Obi-Wan goes into action and severs the spider droid's legs and lands a fatal lightsaber wound to its head.
The people around you breathe a sigh of relief but soon find out that it's far from over. Miniature spider droids begin to pop out of the body of the larger one and spread out to box the group of you in.
Senators begin freaking out, but you and Satine know better. Years of dealing with the pushback of the people have forced you to learn how to defend yourself. Not to mention, the year spent with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan required you to spend quite a bit of time learning to fight. You and Satine immediately pull out your deactivators and get to work killing the droids.
Obi-Wan joins the fight with his lightsaber and the two of you fall into the instinctual rhythm from all those years ago. Back to back, slowly turning, ensuring the other doesn’t get too overwhelmed by the enemy. As much as you hate being reminded of your once very close relationship, it's easier to connect to him through the ease of physical touch. You can predict his movements and fighting techniques, making it much easier to interact than dialogue.
Once all, except one, of the droids are eliminated, Obi-Wan turns towards you and seems as if he has something to say but quickly stops himself and walks away to check on the others. The adrenaline coursing through your veins from the fight keeps you on edge however, even after you return to your seat.
It stays with you, even when Anakin returns to inform Obi-Wan that there is a seperatist among you. The surviving spider droid is walked around the table, a test to see who it won’t attack. When Obi-Wan reaches Tal Merrik, a sudden change in the droid's hostile behavior proves him to be a traitor.
You watch in horror as Tal grabs Satine and holds a blaster to her head. The adrenaline from the previous fight serves you well because, even before Obi-Wan has time to react to the sudden change in severity of the situation, a fallen guard’s blaster, set to stun, is in your hand and has already raised and fired at the Senator. He quickly falls, releasing Satine.
You release a shaky breath and everyone, including Obi-Wan, stares in shock at your quick save.
“T-thank you,” Satine says, obviously shaken from almost being held hostage.
You nod in acknowledgment and watch as Tal Merrik is put into custody.
For obvious reasons, all the senators decide to retire to their rooms for the rest of the night.
Exhausted emotionally and physically, you do the same and head to your room after making sure Satine arrived at hers safely. You are about to relax into your bed when you hear a knock at the door. You open it to find Obi-Wan standing there, looking rather uncomfortable.
“What do you want, Obi-Wan,” you sigh, tired of hiding from your past.
“I thought that we could talk”
“You are the last person to want to talk about feelings, Obi” You say turning around and heading back into the room, silently allowing him access to your space.
He walks in and closes the door behind him and leans against the wall opposite of you.
“I thought it would be a benefit to the both of us if we just talk”
“What do you want me to say Obi-Wan?” You raise your voice, tired of his roundabout way of talking.
“Do you want me to say I’m in love with you? But you already knew that didn’t you, all those years ago, and you still left” you accuse spitefully, not believing that you could somehow still have feelings for such an emotionally constipated man.
His face contorts into one of regret and grief at the mention of his abandoning you, but you still don’t let up.
“I think it’s better if you just go, Obi Wan. It’s what you do best.” You spit out, turning around to face away from him.
You hear him push off the wall and begin to move, but instead of leaving like you told him to, he walks up to you. You sense his presence against your back and he is so close you can feel his breath gently hitting the back of your neck. He stands there and lightly touches your hand with his own, breathing you in, again resorting to physical touch when his words fail. You bask in the closeness of him, giving into the way you missed his touch.
After a few moments, you hear him sigh and pull away from you.
“Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order”
With that confession, he slowly leaves and shuts the door, leaving you more confused and heartbroken than ever.
T/W: nothing, apart from swears, mild dirty jokes and recurring mentions of nudity? BAHAH IM SORRY I PROMISE THERES NOTHING GRAPHIC THO TOTALLY SFW
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more than to spoil his lovely poodle, Vicchan, and if that meant playing a game of Truth or Dare in a broken elevator to attain the likes of a beautifully pink chew toy, he was game.
[Inspired by a little rough imagine I posted a while ago]
a/n: honestly dont even ask me how this happened, happy holidays!! i wish you all a very merry chrysler, and if you dont celebrate, a very happy december!
oh and dont forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! dont hesitate to tell me what you think of my work, and also! please please ple e a a s e tell me if you see any spelling mistake or grammatical errors! THANK YOUUU!
also please note that this will be posted to my ao3 account: @yuuri_nsane
---
This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.
He thinks back to the start of the day, wondering how exactly he'd wound up sitting in a broken elevator, positioned in between the third and fourth floor, having just ended a dastardly game of Truth or Dare with quite an attractive man.
Said attractive man was not only attractive, but also very, very naked, save for the pair of patterned purple socks still clad on his feet. He also had the entirety of the Russian National Anthem scrawled on his left leg, as well as a black eye and terribly painted nails: a bright hot pink that shrieked against impossibly pale skin. Not to mention the taunting pastel dog toy he was now cuddling with.
Yeah, no. Yuuri was stuck in a predicament - one far too mortifying yet amusing for his own comprehension.
How in the ever-loving fuck had this happened?
---
Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.
He loved his mom, fed his dog, never showed up late to work.
He was good at recycling - always remembering to separate the cardboard tube and plastic lid of the Pringles' can he'd eat out of during a late night binge.
He watered his plants religiously, and no, it didn't matter that one out of the four of them were fake. He loved all his plants equally, thank you very much.
He held the door open for people no matter how far away or close they were, and even when they did that awkward little jog, he made sure to give them a warm smile.
He cleaned after himself, not at all tolerating any bits of scrap paper or crumbs left as residue from a busy night of studying and stress eating, no matter how tired he was.
He even cleaned up after other people! Like, for example, when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, had eaten too much takeout and could barely move - Yuuri had offered to clean up for him. Phichit, with somewhat of a moral compass thanks to Yuuri, had protested at first; Yuuri had replied with a gentle 'tsk' and a 'go get some rest, you can make it up to me by doing the dishes tomorrow and the day after that'.
And so, to conclude, Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.
So why, why exactly was he here, in the middle of a bustling mall at 2pm, so close to being trampled on in the midst of hectic shopping, staring down an unfairly good-looking stranger, both their hands having met in the middle - the middle being a cutesy dog toy, the last one in stock.
Yuuri had naively left his Christmas shopping till the very last minute, much like everyone else present in the store. He hadn’t intended to buy Vicchan another toy, Lord knows he had plenty more at home and that Yuuri’s bank account was suffering because of it. But it was Christmas, and if anything, his dog deserved the world.
One more as a little festive gift wouldn't hurt, and it certainly brought Yuuri a step closer to giving Vicchan ‘the world’.
And so, he needed this.
And he was not going to give up that easily, despite the fact that the universe decided to make his life just a little bit harder, since the opposition made Yuuri slightly more weaker in the knees than he'd like to admit.
He winced in the bright white lights of the shop, the Christmas music blaring and irritating, no longer as heart-warming as Yuuri had found it when he first entered. The excessive Christmas decorations made him cringe - it was as if one of Santa’s elves had puked all over the place.
"Why," the other man began, his voice oozing with honey, with charming remnants of an accent. His soothing verbal confrontation had caught Yuuri’s undivided attention. His hand was inching closer to the catalyst of this hassling event and Yuuri barely fought the urge to slap it away (or hold it tenderly), "I believe I saw this first."
Oh, heck no.
Yuuri scooted closer and desperately tried to ignore the blooming heat on his cheeks, "Actually, I think I did."
This did nothing to deter to the other man, who with his height, easily stood over Yuuri and glared ever so passive aggressively.
"Well, okay then! Since we can’t decide who gets the damn toy, why don't we settle this like men?"
The black haired male stared frozen in shock. He was not looking for a fight, no matter how eager he was to spoil his little poodle with all the gifts he warranted and more.
"Uh, I don't- um, I'm not looking for trouble!" Yuuri ranted swiftly, slowly pulling his hand away from the dog toy.
So close, yet so far.
It wasn't like he couldn't fend for himself, God knows he was stronger than most people with the avid workouts he did to prepare for dancing recitals.
(And let me tell you, Yuuri has never skipped leg day. Ever.)
But at the same time, he knew it would be less than ideal if the young man spent his Christmas holiday sporting a black eye or something similar.
In response to his quick exclamation, the silver haired male beside Yuuri also retracted his hand, a look of bafflement evident on his chiselled features.
"I-You..." he started, looking at Yuuri far too intensely than the other male was admittedly comfortable with.
A few seconds later, he burst out into laughter, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. He tilted his head back, arms grasping his middle.
He gasped for air, dramatically wiping a tear away, "You thought - you thought I wanted to fight for it! Like in some sort of - cliché romance where the two love interests fight for the main character's hand in marriage! Or something!" He babbled on, leaving Yuuri flustered and awfully ready to make a run for it.
In his fit of embarrassment, he raised voice, "Well, what the hell did you mean by 'settling this like men'! Of course I thought you wanted to get physical!"
Yuuri regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.
"Physical? Well, I'll have you know I have a bit more class than that. I'd take you out on a date first, if anything."
The shorter male sputtered angrily, his blush not at all dying down, but instead doing the opposite. He glared at the other man, cursing his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty voice.
And much to his luck, the blue-eyed villain pursued his words, snickering, “Not to mention here of all places! Quite the voyeur, are we?”
Yuuri was a Good Person™ - what the hell had he done to deserve this!
The taller male must've noticed Yuuri's increasing discomfort, and his teasing came to halt. He inclined his head in the direction of the damned chew toy and reiterated, "What I really meant was we could buy the toy and decide outside who gets to take it - like civilised human beings. You rest your case, I rest mine! Sound good?"
Yuuri pondered, before slowly nodding his head. It wsn’t like he had anything better to do, and he really wanted this dog toy. If only he knew the events that would follow soon after, he might’ve have ran fast and far before giving a real answer.
Fortunately, it seemed that both of them were just about finished with their shopping, the dog toy being last in each other's spontaneous list.
The light haired man took this as inclination to pluck the dog toy off the shelf, giving Yuuri a confirming look, and leading them both to the checkout.
They squeezed their way through the crowds; meandering, lifeless beings that swayed from aisle to aisle. Once they made it there, they payed for their own items separately, before splitting the money for the toy.
Afterwards, they made way to the elevator just two shops down, both agreeing to settle their dispute in the parking lot. They were on the top floor of the shopping centre, after all. Yuuri figured that the both of them would be more comfortable if they weren't surrounded by other people, who could very fairly judge them when arguing about the baby pink dog toy. Said baby pink dog toy had somehow found its way into Yuuri's grasp. If he wasn't such a good person maybe he'd have run away by now, pastel chew toy in hand. But damn it, he was, so he swallowed down the urge.
They stepped into the elevator, the shiny silver doors sliding apart before meeting in the centre. A sickening array of tinsel was hung to the upper corners, along with a few baubles hanging from them. Yuuri noticed the red ribbon twined in with the tinsel, and wanted to grimace at its tackiness.
The young dancer then turned to his companion, now realising how dangerous this situation actually was. Without thinking he blurted, "You're not a serial killer, are you?"
The other man raised an eyebrow. "Well no, but I wouldn't put it past myself to become one for the sake of that toy." He waved nonchalantly at Yuuri's hand, the chew toy dripping from his fingers.
Yuuri instinctively took a step back.
"Oh my God, I'm kidding!" The man chuckled, turning away and watching the numbers at the top of the elevator decrease gradually.
"So, uh, what do we do now?"
To this, the male looked back at Yuuri, and replied simply, "I come up with a sob story to convince you to give me the toy!"
Yuuri pursed his lips, unimpressed. He was tired but by God, was he so not above from entertaining the notion. "Okay, then. Go ahead. After you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."
He was met with a smirk, a smirk far too devious for Yuuri's liking. Before the other man could attempt to pull at Yuuri’s heart strings, however, the room jarred and the two men in the elevator were sent tumbling to the ground.
"What just happened."
It came out more like a statement than a question, a robotic string of words that spewed from Yuuri's lips involuntarily.
"I think...I think the elevator just...broke down."
They stared at each other for a moment, and the next words came flying about - who said them exactly left a mystery.
"Oh, fuck."
---
They spent the first five minutes panicking, calling for help in such an inglorious manner that Yuuri was sure they'd both lose their voices. They spent the next few moments afterwards checking their phones, and resentfully realising that somehow, there was no reception. And that, of course, since the universe seemed to love good ol' Yuuri, that his phone was at a sad two percent.
His company's was no better, where his phone was at a fifteen, to which the taller man responded with a sheepish, 'I forgot to charge it last night too.'
They realised then that they had no choice but to wait until help miraculously found its way to them, and so they indulged in the waiting game.
The next hour or so consisted of the two bantering back and forth, 'sob stories' passed around like old folk's tales. They bickered and still, their argument over the dog toy was left unsettled, and Yuuri had to admit, it was kind of fun.
Time had whizzed past, and soon enough it was already 4:37pm. The other man spoke up suddenly, sat opposite Yuuri on the cold, hard ground of the elevator. His skin was painted in the gold of the old light that flickered above them, his blue eyes sparkling impressively. Yuuri wanted to look away, yet simultaneously couldn't find it in him to.
"I just realised that I don't know your name. And you don't know mine! Chances are, we'll be spending all night together," he wiggled his eyebrows. Yuuri choked in response, the other male continuing, "so let me introduce myself! Viktor Nikiforov!" He held out his arm out, humbly awaiting.
Yuuri clasped it gently, mumbling a near silent, "Yuuri Katsuki."
Viktor reacted with an all too cheery, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuuri!"
They held hands for almost a second too long, until Yuuri forced himself to pull away.
The two men once again decided to engage in such chatter, bordering small talk. They joked and teased, each finding out more and more about the other.
Yuuri now knew that Viktor Nikiforov was four years older than he was, a good twenty-six, and had a lovely little poodle he called Makkachin, or Makka for short. (He guessed that she was the reason for Viktor's desperate need for the dog toy.) He was Russian, and moved to the states just a few weeks before his nineteenth birthday. His favourite food was Borscht, a beef stew mixed with all sorts of vegetables, and that he almost burnt his kitchen down once upon a time trying to make it. And, to Yuuri's surprise, Viktor was a choreographer for all sorts of dances, his specialty being ballet and contemporary.
In response to this sudden spout of information, Yuuri had offered his own age and his dog's name and breed. He also told Viktor that his parents were from Japan, but moved to Detroit to start a hot springs. He explained too, that his favourite food was Katsudon, a pork cutlet rice bowl, and that his mother made the best of them.
Yuuri even mentioned his own career in dancing, to which Viktor had reacted to with an animated widening of his eyes and a contemplative 'really?'.
He also swears that Viktor had checked him out soon afterwards, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Soon enough, boredom got the best of the two, having spent the last three hours doing nothing but lounge around. Their phones were now completely out of battery (no, Yuuri didn't spend the last two percent playing Candy Crush-); they were hungry and unentertained, and it didn't take long for Viktor to begin whining.
Immediately, he shot up, forcing Yuuri into a frightened jolt.
"Sorry, sorry - I was just thinking, since I'm bored and you're bored, we should play Truth or Dare!"
Yuuri stared, "Really? Your first thought was child's play?"
"Aw, please! Yuuri, don't be like that! I'm literally dying of boredom-"
"Stop being so dramatic, Viktor."
Viktor ignored him, "-and you know what! We could settle this," he gestured rapidly to the dog toy, where it lay in between them, holy and seemingly unattainable.
Yuuri had never been more stupid to have asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, we play Truth or Dare, and whoever forfeits first means that the other gets the toy! And bragging rights!"
He crawled over to Yuuri, too close for comfort, and drawled, "Pretty please?"
Yuuri, feeling scandalised and suddenly like a hormonal prepubescent teen, pressed himself up against the wall, looked away and squeaked a feeble, "Okay, fine!"
He felt regret seep into his soul for the umpteenth time that day.
---
He sighed.
Yuuri Katsuki was a good person.
He was a good person and he knew so much.
And so he wondered again, quite bitterly, why and how the planets had aligned in such a way to quite literally fuck him over in this elevator, where the most handsome man he'd ever seen was now lying in front of him, naked and quite the hot mess - a result of playing Truth or Dare.
Viktor, being the proud little shit he was, had chosen nothing but Dare - whether to egg Yuuri on or likewise.
Yuuri had wasted the pink nail polish he'd just bought for his sister Mari in response: his first dare being a cheap jab at the man's dignity. Though, it did little to do so, as Viktor painted his nails happily, albeit messily, and wore his paint job loud and proud.
After that, he had dared the man to write the Russian National Anthem on his leg with a black sharpie, one he’d conveniently carried around in his coat’s breast pocket. Viktor had done so entirely without complaint, going as far as to showcase his leg in a fucking split.
The dares that followed were mild, if not slightly concerning - Yuuri having dared Viktor to lick the floor, to pluck the hanging tinsel from the corners of the elevator and stuff it in his mouth, to try and do a handstand, to stand on one foot for two minutes and so on.
Watching Viktor, physical perfection on legs, trying to stuff a wad of sparking red tinsel down his throat was more amusing than Yuuri cared to say, and it came to show that the taller man was just as human as he was, despite his uncanny appearance to that of a greek god.
Although Yuri didn't even want to recall how Viktor had ended up wearing nothing but his socks, and even the nasty black eye now splotching across his fair skin.
He was more than happy to block that out from his memory.
Because of this, he’d stuck religiously to choosing Truth, not at all willing to risk whatever was left of his self-respect, in fear that Viktor would take no pity on him and get his revenge.
In fact, the worst question Viktor had asked him was,
"What's your biggest turn on?"
And Yuuri, being the sad, and easily embarrassed person that he was, had panicked and briskly declared, "Katsu...don?", his confidence soon blinking out like a candle flame halfway through saying so - it was evident in his statement all but becoming a gratifying question.
It was 6:29pm, and Yuuri's sure that help was on its way - for he could hear the bustling of what he assumed to be mall security outside the elevator. He wondered briefly, how worrying it would be for the two men to step out the elevator, one untouched, and the other looking as though they'd flushed themselves down the toilet. Repeatedly.
Yuuri kept his gaze away from Viktor and his...glory. He scowls, remembering how Viktor won the dog toy fair and square: Yuuri having refused to carry on playing after Viktor's little strip tease. Or whatever the hell it was.
He sighs another sad sigh, shaking his head and wishing for oblivion.
---
It was 7:01pm, when the elevator doors were finally opened. Yuuri and Viktor were helped up, blankets wrapped securely around the both of them - specifically Viktor, for obvious reasons.
Security were nothing short of polite but it was safe to say that when they managed to open the elevator doors, the last thing they were expecting was a 5'9" Russian man to come stumbling out, naked and, oh yes, naked.
They were ushered to a nearby bench on the fourth floor, surrounded by nearby onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves. The mall security had asked them politely to wait by, probably to offer some sort of compensation, Yuuri expected.
They sat in silence: hungry and tired - most definitely ready to go home, after a lovely evening spent stuck in the elevator for roughly five hours.
Viktor clutched at the dog toy and his blanket - his clothes and plastic shopping bag resting rumpled on his lap. Yuuri kept his head ducked down, listening pathetically to Mariah Carey and her silky singing echoing in the mall.
All I want for Christmas, Yuuri pondered spitefully: beyond mortified by the near nude man beside him and his demeaning loss when playing Truth or Dare, is to dig my own grave!
Suddenly, Viktor spoke up besides Yuuri.
"I was thinking-"
"No! Viktor, when you think, it ends badly!" Yuuri exclaimed, turning to point at Viktor's general being and the chew toy that he held loosely, "that was traumatic."
"It's nothing bad! Or at least I don't think it is..." Viktor helpfully supplied.
Viktor coughed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. His blanket fell from his shoulders and rested at his waist. Yuuri kept his gaze from trailing down, and could've sworn he was going to have a heart attack.
"I just...uhm, do you want to, maybe, uh...organise a play date for our dogs, or something?"
Yuuri straightened up immediately.
"You, you don't have to say yes! I'm sorry! I-I get that you're probably really busy, since Christmas is in like, two days, and you might have better things to do than go out with me - I mean, go out with my dog, wait, no! I mean-" Viktor rambled on, his face getting redder by the minute.
Yuuri, being the good, merciful, and apparently brave that person he is, disregarded all rational thought and leaned in to kiss Viktor on his cheek; a sweet press of his lips to soft skin that made the dark haired male tingle all over.
He pulled away, noting the relentless flush that started from Viktor's hairline, all the way down to his toned chest. And along with that, the older man's abrupt silence. He stared quizzically at Yuuri, reaching to touch the cheek that had been kissed.
"I'd love for our dogs to have a play date. But on one condition," Yuuri teased, a devilish grin making its way into his face, "you take me on that date, okay, Viktor Nikiforov? We can't afford to forget about class, now can we?"
He was bombarded with a humiliated shriek: a high-pitched squeal that left Viktor's lips, which stringed along like music to the younger man's ears, and a promise for a date - both for his dog and himself.
This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.
But he certainly wasn't complaining. Anymore, at least.
---
BONUS:
“I’ll see you later, Viktor! Um, merry Christmas! Oh, yeah and Monday, alright, Vicchan and I will see you then! Call me!” Yuuri all but whispered hastily, carrying his shopping and Viktor’s heart away with him to the other side of the parking lot.
Luckily, their cars were in the same district, and the Russian watched dreamily as Yuuri made his way to his car, and he himself got into his. He giggled bashfully, glad he forgot to go Christmas shopping last week.
What were the chances that he’d have ended up spending five hours with such an attractive and certainly interesting man, in the small confines of a horribly decorated elevator?
He smiled softly, making one last assessment of his things. His watch, shoes, shirt, pants - it was all here! Along with his shopping bag, Yuuri’s number and-
Wait.
Where...
Where was the dog toy?
Viktor didn’t enough time to fully wrap his head around the disappearance of the chew toy, before he heard maniacal laughter, and a dark blue Volkswagen blurring past. The car’s windows were rolled down, an insulting pastel pink lolling out slightly.