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outofsstyles · 3 years

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

just kidding, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: There was a time where you would be out partying, getting drunk and fucking up a storm. But you’re different now. You stopped drinking. Now you’re the one waiting for Kim Taehyung to call so you can pick him up from his drunken adventures. There’s just one small hitch – Taehyung’s roommate, Jeon Jungkook, offering you a mojito.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (a little) alcohol consumption; slight crack at the start lol; smut (fem reader, thigh riding, handjob, fingering, m-receiving oral); non-idol!AU; Jungkook is a tempter and he knows it; noona!reader and you’re a nympho, whoops

“I don’t drink.”

“Oh.”

Jeon Jungkook blinked at you, holding out the mojito.

“But… I made it.”

“That’s true. But I don’t drink.”

He pursed his lips and frowned.

“You sure?” he asked, putting on his best puppy eyes.

“Yup.”

“I promise it’s not poisoned.”

You laughed, jangling your car keys. “I have to drive later. But also, I do not drink.”

He nodded and took a sip of it. “It’s really smooth.”

You smiled and went back to your phone. Kim Taehyung was supposed to text you in a bit so you could pick him up from a party. In exchange, he let you borrow his computer to play League of Legends since he had a better PC and internet than your apartment. There was an event going on, so you had to grind games. You were getting tired though and you didn’t want to be in the middle of a game when Taehyung called half-drunk.

Now you were sitting on the couch, as Taehyung’s roommate Jeon Jungkook stood there and took sips from his mojito. Just standing there, thinking. He did that a lot, drifting off into space randomly. You figured it was some sort of weird habit. He was wearing a striped black-and-white turtleneck and black leather pants. His cheek-length black hair was pinned back on the right side, revealing his undercut. It seemed like he was going out, but he had spent all night in his room before going to the kitchen and then appearing with said mojito. Why? Honestly, you had no idea.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked, looking up at him from the sofa.

Jungkook snapped out of it and stared at you. “What?”

You pointed to his outfit. “You’re dressed all fancy.”

Jungkook looked down. “Oh. Uh, not really. I was going to go with Taehyung tonight but I had an assignment to finish that I forgot about. I never changed.”

You nodded. Hm.

Okay.

“How do you know Taehyung-ssi, anyway, noona?”

“I sucked his dick once.”

Jungkook nearly dropped his glass.

You calmly scrolled through Instagram. You flickered your eyes up to see Jungkook’s shocked face and his red ears.

“I’m kidding,” you chuckled, seeing Jungkook blink rapidly to collect himself. “I used to be the Biology lab TA. He’d ask for help a lot. And he plays League, so we ended up hanging out. Also, I have a car.”

“R-right…” Jungkook crab-walked to the armchair next to the sofa and sat down, placing his drink on the table. “Right, yeah.”

You two sat in silence, rather comfortable for you, rather awkward for Jungkook. You didn’t come here that often, but it was always only to borrow Taehyung’s internet or to pick him up from random outings. It was never a big deal to you, as Taehyung was always nice and bought you food later as thanks. As for Jeon Jungkook, he was just kind of there. Introverted, quiet, sometimes piped up to inquire about something when he was curious. You weren’t exactly talkative, but he didn’t bother you either, so it was never too memorable.

“What’s on your shirt?” Jungkook asked, tilted his head.

You lifted your phone to give him a better look at the nine-pointed star and bleeding goat head of your long-sleeved black shirt. “It’s an American metal band.”

Jungkook blinked at you. “You listen to metal?”

You put your phone back down. “Yup.”

You suddenly remembered your legs were wide open because you were wearing your black velvet pants and they were hot as fuck. Wearing these was a mistake. You closed your legs and settled them on the couch. They had been expensive though, so you felt like you had to wear them to get your money’s worth. Damnnit. Why did you buy these again?

“Why don’t you drink alcohol?”

You closed Instagram and opened Twitter. “Because I become sexually uninhibited.”

Silence.

You looked up to see Jungkook trying to process what you said, imaginary question marks popping on top of his head.

“It means I fuck anything with legs, Jungkook.”

His brown doe eyes went wide. “W-what?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, you know, one time one of my friends caught me in a room with my clothes off blowing three guys at once, so I figured, hmm, maybe I shouldn’t drink anymore. That ever happen to you?” you added nonchalantly.

Jungkook shook his head so quickly his long black hair floated in the air.

“Huh. Well, me neither,” you chuckled. “I was just kidding.”

Jungkook looked like a mother who was trying to process all of their child’s sex escapades. “That’s good then. Whew,” he remarked with an awkward laugh. He took another long, hasty sip of his mojito.

“It was four guys.”

Jungkook nearly choked. He snapped his head up to see your shoulders shaking as you tried to contain your snickering, hiding behind your phone. He glared at you, clearing his throat sharply.

“You shouldn’t lie, noona,” he muttered, frowning.

You lowered your phone and straightened. “I was laughing at your expression. I wasn’t lying.”

He narrowed his eyes, disbelieving. “About what part?” he said warily.

“I do not drink because I will literally try to fuck anyone in my immediate vicinity when I’m drunk,” you stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “You can imagine it’s not very good for my sexual health or my social life as I stumble out of a party covered in cum of four guys I don’t know.”

Jungkook was in the middle of drinking his mojito and swallowed so hard the entire drink disappeared into his throat.

“What?” he wheezed out, slamming his chest with his fist.

You put your hands up. “It happens.”

Jungkook looked as if he as going to pass out, either from the image or from drinking too fast. You picked up your phone again and set Taehyung a text.

Are you dead? I think I killed your roommate.

Jungkook shook his head vigorously. “You must be joking.”

“Nope, that actually happened. Ask Taehyung.”

Jungkook looked taken aback. “What?” he said again in the same panicked tone.

“I told you someone found me.”

You swore that if this was the Wild West, a tumbleweed would have drifted by. Jungkook looked as white as a sheet. You calmly plucked the glass from his hand since it seemed like he was rapidly losing focus of his surroundings.

“How… That’s so dangerous!” Jungkook sputtered, seemingly coming back to life.

“Indeed, which is why I am sitting here right now and not piss drunk in a random bedroom in someone’s house,” you replied calmly, waiting for Taehyung to text you back. “See, this is why you don’t offer me a drink because then I would try to fuck you. You’ve been spared.”

Jungkook gave you a very strange expression and suddenly crossed one leg over the other. You rubbed your eyes. Hopefully Taehyung didn’t stay out too late. You were getting sleepy.

“Well, you still have to be attracted to them, r-right?” Jungkook commented, looking away and biting his knuckle.

You didn’t look up from your phone.

“I suppose. I don’t really have a type, and when you’re drunk you only look at the parts you’re attracted to anyway and forget about anything else,” you responded, chuckling at a cute cat picture. “At least you’re attractive, so if I met you at a party drunk, I’d fuck you, easy.” Owls could sit cross-legged? What? You squinted at the meme, trying to see if it was Photoshopped.

Silence. Absolute fucking silence.

You decided that it seemed unlikely the photo of this sitting owl was Photoshopped and lifted your head to see Jungkook staring at you like you had three heads.

“What?”

“You’re…” Jungkook chuckled awkwardly. “Just kidding, right?”

You blinked. “What? About you being attractive?” You pointed to him. “No. I’m not. You’re handsome, Jungkook.”

You saw his ears turning red once again. “Ahaha… but you wouldn’t fuck me, right?”

“I would.”

A crow cawed loudly outside the window.

Jungkook wasn’t blinking. Was he dead? Was Taehyung going to come home to a statue of a roommate? You tilted your head and waved your hand in front of his face. Jungkook didn’t move. Maybe he went into shock.

“Jungkook? You alive in there?” you asked, waving your hand some more.

He blinked rapidly, startling you. “I… I…”

Okay, now he was scaring you. Was he broken? Did Taehyung have an A.I. for a roommate and not tell you? Taehyung, please come home and oil your Jungkook, you thought dryly as you watched him scrunch up his nose, as if he was trying to stretch his face muscles out.

“You surprised me,” Jungkook sputtered, nervously rubbing the back of his head. “I just… there’s no way…”

“That I would fuck you?” you replied, completely chill. He turned even redder. You placed a hand on your cheek and rested your elbow on the couch. “Why not? You’re cute, have nice fashion sense, seem like a decent guy.”

Yeah, Jungkook was definitely breaking down because he did not seem to know how to form proper sentences anymore. He was like a fish out of water, opening and closing his mouth awkwardly.

“But, I couldn’t though.” You cut off his attempts to fathom a thought. He stiffened, his doe eyes shifting to you. “Because you’re Taehyung’s friend, not a stranger. I try not to mess up my friendships, you know?”

He swallowed thickly. “R-right.”

You removed your hand from your cheek and cracked your neck, leaning back against the plushy couch arm. Sheesh, where was Taehyung? You could have played an entire ARAM in the time he was messing about. He told you around this time, but perhaps he had run late. Oh well.

“But… if he doesn’t know…”

Hold up.

You lifted your head, slowly, slowly to Jungkook’s nervous stare and shifty eyes.

“I mean, if Taehyung doesn’t know… doesn’t count, right?” he asked innocently.

His dark hair obscured part of his angular face, pink lips slightly parted. His eyes were watching your every move like a hawk, brows furrowed slightly. The living room light reflected off his glowing tan skin and the glossiness of his lips.

If you don’t stop looking like that, you thought. There’s going to be consequences.

“Let’s not tread dangerous waters here,” you said quietly.

One of his dark eyebrows quirked upwards ever-so-slightly. “How is it dangerous? Taehyung’s going to call you when he needs to be picked up. He’s going to see the inside of your car before he even sees the inside of this apartment.”

Uh oh. Now your heart was beating fast. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Alcohol made you sexually uninhibited because you really, really enjoyed having sex. Far too much. But you couldn’t go through life fucking everything with legs (or without them – to be honest, it wasn’t that strict of a requirement) because, hello, societal standards? Social appropriateness of maybe not fucking the cashier at your favorite coffee spot or your friend’s roommate in his apartment? You know, you had to be a productive human being and not a damn nympho. Wasn’t like you were getting paid for it.

Jungkook lifted his leg from his knee and spread them, tilting his chin upward.

Oh ho?

Well, now you knew why Jungkook crossed his legs, because a very obvious bulge was struggling in his leather pants. Where was embarrassed Jungkook? Shocked Jungkook? The Jungkook that was stunned at your crude words and straightforward manner?

Give him back. This is too much.

Perhaps you had been a little too frank for once – ah, who are you kidding, you’d probably been in this situation before.

Jungkook’s right hand slid up his thigh, long fingers with tiny, delicate tattoos, tracing the contours of his muscular quads. You tilted your head as he danced his fingers along his inner thigh before spreading them over his bulge and cupping it, stroking slowly through the thick fabric as he licked his lips.

“I am not drunk enough for this,” you muttered.

“Are you scared?” Jungkook asked softly, still palming himself through his pants. “Scared Taehyungie will be mad at you?” You felt a muscle in your face twitch. It seemed that he knew he was getting the better of you, because his voice was dropping low, sultry. You did not like being challenged, because well… you always tried to rise to the challenge. To your detriment, sometimes.

“Is Taehyung the boss of you?”

Fuck.

You snapped your head at him, narrowing your eyes.

“No one is the boss of me,” you replied icily.

Jungkook softened his features, laying his head back in the armchair. His hair curled around his cheek as his breathing deepened. His teeth caught his lower lip and gradually released it, the pink flesh popping back into place. The tiny mole under his lip trembled.

“Then do whatever you want, noona.”

Your eyes narrowed to slits, nails digging into your palms.

“What’s gotten into you?”

Jungkook’s voice was a smokey wisp, soaking into you.

“Just imagining you on your knees, naked, covered in cum…” He groaned, rocking his hips into his hand. “Sounds so fucking hot.”

Well. It had been. It was fucking hot, it made you wet just thinking about that night. It had felt amazing as the cum dripped down your skin, covering you, making you filthy with your sinful lust, so delicious and raw and dirty that right now you sat up, spreading your legs again because the space between your thighs was too fucking hot, too fucking much. Stupid velvet pants.

You got up from the couch, eyes still on Jungkook, his pupils dilating, tongue tracing the outskirts of his lips. He leaned his head back a little and moaned your name, long and lustful, eyelids fluttering. His dark hair brushed against his brows.

“Stop,” you breathed, reaching down to push your shirt up. Your fingers hovered over the button of your pants. Too hot. Too fucking hot. “You’re doing this on purpose. You’re tempting me.”

The side of his lips curved upward into a lazy smirk.

“I am.”

You placed your phone on the coffee table. The sound was on. Taehyung still hadn’t texted you. You would hear it vibrate against the wood. You took another step, unbuttoning your pants. Fuck. Why was Jungkook so sexy? You could resist if he wasn’t so damn hot.

“Don’t want you to think…” You swallowed; throat tight. “Don’t want you to think I’m treating you like a sex object.” The zipper of your pants slid down. “Because you seem like a nice guy.”

He smiled, undoing his pants too, sighing as the zipper freed his bulge.

“If I was your sex object…” Jungkook purred, pushing his tight leather pants down, down. “Even for only a little bit, I wouldn’t hold it against you, noona.”

Now your velvet pants were being peeled off your hips, leaving you in your seamless black panties. Oh, fuck, his thighs. Muscular and powerful, skin so pretty you wanted to touch. His eyes slid down your body.

“Holy shit, your thighs.”

Seemed like you both had the same idea. You climbed onto Jungkook’s lap, straddling one of his thighs. Now he was close to you, smelling like fresh linen, presence so warm and powerful you were being drugged by it. Your hands slid onto his shoulders, gripping them finger by finger, breathing hard as he tensed them. Slowly, you sat down on his left thigh, gasping as your soaked, clothed heat touched him. He grinned, flexing it under you. His own hand slid up your thigh, squeezing it, watching his fingers sink into your softness.

“Now, this,” Jungkook breathed, staring into your eyes. “This is a sexy body.”

Your heart was beating so fast, so fast. He watched you closely, eyes so dark that you felt like you were drowning in them. You rolled your hips into his thigh, hissing as you became wetter. He flexed the muscle under you, hard and unforgiving, sitting back and letting you rub yourself against it. You smeared your juices into his skin, stimulating your clit, inhaling sharply. Jungkook was still clutching your thigh, his large hand pressed into you.

“Is that enough for you?” he drawled, his other hand sliding up to land on your other thigh. “Is that all you want from me?”

Your eyes flickered to his playful, daring brown orbs.

“There’s no time…” you muttered.

“Take off your panties,” he nudged.

He placed his hands on your waist and lifted you up. You bit your lip, uncertain.

“Noona, I want you to feel good.”

He slipped one finger on the side of your black panties and pushed down. You took the other side and pushed them down, raising your legs to pull out one and then the other. Your panties fluttered to the ground. Jungkook’s gaze on you as you lowered again, bare and dripping, onto his thick thigh. Oh, holy hell. He tensed it and pressed your hips down, grinding his thigh onto your slopping wet pussy. You moaned, grasping his forearms through his turtleneck, feeling the strength in them, the hardness. You closed your eyes, humping his thigh, lost in bliss.

“Can you cum like that?” You felt Jungkook lean forward, lips brushing against yours. “Cum you cum just by rubbing yourself on me?”

Tiny, rigid nods. “If you... kiss me.”

He groaned as he felt your opening tense on his skin. “I thought you would never ask.”

And then his lips were on yours, soft, delicate. Sweet, erotic kisses contrasting with how hard you were fucking his leg, his tongue dancing in the periphery of yours, dodging you playfully as you whined, clutching him tighter. He pressed you down harder, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You shuddered, wetness pooling at his kisses, your core tightening as he whispered your name into your lips.

“Your body is so fucking delectable,” his murmured. “So sexy, it’s sinful.”

You clenched your jaw as you basically rammed your hips into his thigh, slippery and hard, your clit throbbing with need.

“Cum for me, noona.” You could feel his lips form the words as he kissed you, awe in his voice. “Cum on my thigh.”

You dug your nails into his clothed arms and shut your eyes, moaning his name, feeling the strings inside you snap, pleasure waterfalling into you as you came, squelching onto his skin, so viscous and thick that it added to the lubrication, your swollen clit throbbing. Your eyelids fluttered as his hands pressed you down, grinding your hips into his muscle so you could ride your high, extend it until you were melting, hands falling from his arms. He cradled you gently, your chest heaving with effort.

“J-Jungkook…”

“Mhm?”

You cracked your eyes open. “Has my phone made any noise?”

He shook his head. His dark hair covered part of his left eye. “No, noona.”

“Ah.”

Maybe Taehyung was getting laid. Good for him.

“I’m going to touch you now,” you stated. To the point.

Jungkook grinned.

You reached down to his black boxer briefs and yanked them down, freeing his cock and balls. He lifted his legs a little and you pushed them down, but he took your hand, placing it on his semi-hard cock. He moaned as your fingers wrapped around him.

“Do you want to take it off?” you asked quietly, referring to his underwear.

“No,” Jungkook replied tightly, cupping his hand around yours, using your hand to stroke himself a few times. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You nudged his hand aside and began your pace. He leaned back, gasping softly. Your grip wasn’t what it used to be. Carpal tunnel was a bitch. Still, you furrowed your brow, concentrating, He swelled in your hand, pre-cum leaking at the red tip dripping onto your fingers. You stopped for a moment to coat your palm with it, bringing it to your mouth and licking your hand, moaning at his taste. Jungkook shivered, watching your saliva spread all over before returning to his cock, adding to the lubrication.

He pressed his head into the back of the armchair, hips rising as you started again, jaw tense.

“I’m not as good as before,” you gritted out. “My wrist–”

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook interjected. “Fuck, your hand is perfect.”

He was rock hard in your hand as you jacked him off. You snuck a glance at him. His hands were on his face, combing through his dark hair, eyes closing, mouth open as he moaned, rutting into your palm.

He was just so, so sensual that it was driving you insane, his noises making you wet. There was something feral about it, the way he looked at you through his lashes.

“Can I finger you?” he pleaded. “Please.”

Your hips were raised to get a good angle, your arousal already dripping down your thigh.

“Of course. Touch me, Jungkook.”

He lowered his hands, hair all over his face, staring at you through the veil. His fingers slid up your thigh, slipping in between. Dipping in, moaning as he touched your wetness. You sucked in a breath, feeling his fingertip graze your swollen clit. Your grip tightened.

“Jungkook.” Your eyes found his, glazed with lust. “You can be rougher with me. If you want.”

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t want to hurt you…”

You smirked.

“You forget who you’re talking to.”

He pushed two fingers into you, feeling you suck him in as you stroked him, smile still on your lips. Jungkook grinned, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbed it as he began to thrust his fingers into you, matching your pace, the two of you focused on getting each other off, breath mixing between your bodies.

“Noona?”

“Yeah?” you panted, whimpering at his roughness, his fingers scissoring in you, stretching your walls as you squeezed back, faster and faster.

“Wanna cum in your mouth.”

You chuckled as he shoved a third finger into you, punishing your clit repeatedly, so full, so good, it was making you crazy, but you had to focus, you had to get him off.

“This is a weird angle.”

Jungkook suddenly pulled his fingers out and pinched your clit, making you hiss and your legs shake, pained whimpers clawing from your throat.

“Do it.” His voice was a low growl. “Do it and I’ll reward you.”

You slid off the chair, still stroking his cock, narrowing your eyes at him. Jungkook looked down at you, smirk on his pretty pink lips, whispering your name. You removed your hand and replaced it with your mouth. Fuck. He sighed, hand coming up to tangle in your hair, not quite pressing you down but holding you there, his taste coating your tongue, his hard length throbbing in your mouth. You moaned onto his cock and his hips trembled, his long bangs covering his left eye.

Ugh, the way he looked at you. Your felt your pussy clench, demanding his cock.

Instead, you began to move your head up and down, soft lips around him, mouth tight around the head and length. His hand stayed there, moving with you, firm, reminding you that you couldn’t stop, that you had to keep going until he came. You set a nice, fast, tight pace, already knowing he was close, hearing his breathy groans, repeating your name over and over.

“Always thought you were fuckable,” Jungkook panted out. “Always wanted you in my bed.” He pressed his head into the armchair, shutting his eyes. “Couldn’t figure out how to convince you, couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I wanted you so very much.”

You tightened your throat around him and he dug his nails into your scalp, breathing shallow and tight.

“Gonna cum, noona, fuck, gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, his orgasm filling your mouth, coating your tongue, slipping down your throat. You gulped and he yelped at the sensitivity, whimpering as you softly lapped at the head, cleaning him off. Drinking it all, intoxicated with it, so satisfied swallowing it all.

Oh, how you loved sex.

You slowly removed your mouth crawling back up, no longer aware of your obligations to Taehyung, only interested in brushing Jungkook’s hair aside and kissing him deep, moaning as his tongue forced into your mouth, tasting himself. His hand slipped back into your folds and three fingers deep into you, fucking you. You whined into his mouth, telling him how good he was, telling him how good he felt inside you, telling him you how much you wanted his cock, his beautiful, thick cock jammed all the way inside you.

The door lock clicked and neither of you heard anything.

“Ah, I managed to hitch a ride with Jim– WHAT THE FUCK?”

Taehyung’s deep voice boomed throughout the apartment and you were still making out with Jungkook’s face as his fingers thrust into your slopping wet pussy, spreading you out. You whimpered as Jungkook broke the kiss, pushing you against his body as Taehyung slammed the door and marched in, kicking off his shoes carelessly.

“Fucking shit, why are you like this, fucking everything in your sight, you absolute–”

You turned your head, somewhat ashamed, feeling somewhat sorry – but not that sorry, because Jungkook’s fingers were still inside you. Taehyung’s strong features were twisted in annoyance, but he wasn’t looking at you.

He was scowling at Jungkook.

“I told you,” Taehyung said sharply, sweeping his lush fur coat back to reveal his black turtleneck and black slacks, pointing an accusing finger at Jungkook. “Not to get her started, because she is a horny seductress.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Excuse me?”

Taehyung ticked his head, looking down at you. “Am I wrong?”

You pouted. “Well, no.”

“And,” he added, directing his attention at you. “Why would you not ask me to fuck first? I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times!”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Hundreds?”

Taehyung ignored him, leaning down and taking your chin. Brown eyes a mix of angry and amused, observing your lust. “I am offended that I respected you and you’re sitting in my roommate’s lap instead of mine.” His breath seemed like alcohol.

Your lips parted, heart beating fast. “S-sorry, Tae… You’re just always dragging me out of weird stuff that I thought you were disgusted by me…”

Taehyung brought his face close to you. You loved his voice. So deep, so intense, so heavy. It seemed to shake your soul with bass.

“I’ve wanted you on my dick the second I saw you.”

And then he kissed you, hard and full, as Jungkook’s fingers began to move inside you once again.

part ii: kth x you x jjk

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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shreddedparchment · 3 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.12

Queen of New Asgard

12/02/2020

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 9,737

Warnings: fluff, cute babies, talks of pregnancy, angst, Avengers shenanigans, talks of sex

A/N: So this one is a bit longer than the rest, I really wanted to make sure that this one was a lengthy treat. I didn’t want to split the chapter into two between getting to the Avengers and then actually meeting them and spending tie with them. I wanted to keep it together. I hope you all like it! I had a lot of fun with it, and mostly, I just really love Thor. I want him for myself. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

To say you’re a mess would be an understatement.

At least having Thor by your side gives you a small sense of stability, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re about to meet the Avengers.

Earth’s mightiest heroes.

People so famous that everyone knows their name. Even people in remote parts of the world know they exist.

The sensation of being pulled and gliding through the air in Thor’s arms as the Bifrost glow surrounds you both in your transport is nothing compared to the rolling of your stomach at the thought of saying or doing something stupid in front of Thor’s friends and comrades.

You hold him tighter, loving the way he feels in full armor. Only because it really drives home the fact that he could protect you from anything as opposed to being comfortable.

You’re dressed more simply though not at all casual. The outfit you’re wearing was shoved into your bag with two others in case of official events that might crop up during your honeymoon.

Because dinner with Thor’s teammates is supposed to be a relaxed event, you chose the most unimpressive of the three.

The bodice consists of a one-piece made of leather. Armor would be more accurate in describing it. Though bits of it have been dyed a dark yet also soft gray-purple, others, like the right breast piece and the strip that wraps down around your left side are a natural brown. Textured with a ridged design to compliment the thinner more boned design of the gray-purple section.

Around your waist and laced at the back is another a-symmetrical piece of that natural brown leather, but along the base of it is sewn a long flowing skirt made of a cotton voile base in navy and a sheer silk light blue making the effect of it together like shifting water.

The skirt is left open slightly on the right. If anyone pays really close attention, they’ll see the top of your thigh in the sway. Generally, the dress is appropriate and since this will technically be your first public outing with Thor, it was important you look the part.

Neither of you is wearing a crown. Not necessary really, if it isn’t an official ceremony or event, but you are wearing the large golden pin that Thor had made for you to put on the left breast of your sleeveless gown.

It’s the same interlaced arches that are on your swords with a crown that looks just like your wedding crown at the center where the arches connect.

It shines bright, brand new as it is, and is a symbol of your new status in the world.

A human Queen of Asgard.

It’s safe to say that your name is known from one corner of the Earth to the other which you only just realized when you were doing some research on the time it takes for a body to decompose in a demi-damp environment occasionally exposed to heat. You’d stumbled across a tabloid page with the headline How the New Queen of Asgard Bewitched the God of Thunder.

You hadn’t bothered to read the article because it was clear exactly what kind of reporting they were doing from the picture of you, which someone had pulled from the website of your old school, sitting on Thor’s chest with a photoshopped smirk and glowing red eyes.

There were a few others you read, most of them nice and from official news sources. All of them detailing your tragic childhood and your ascension to wealth. Then your birth ancestry was exposed making you a top candidate for Queen of the Asgardians and in one article for the New York Times, you recognized the pictures of your wedding as you and Thor stared at each other in all of your enamored glory.

Anyone with eyes can see that you love him and in those pictures, you can admit that it helps you feel a bit more secure in Thor’s love to see that he’s looking at you the exact same way. How can he look at you like that and not love you? Or at least be really fond of you?

As the air gets colder, mushy gray snow lining the streets below you, Thor’s body pulls up, preparing to stand as his speed slows.

You feel him step onto the pavement before you do, then slowly he lowers you, large hands so careful with you that you can’t help but look for his eye to see what he might be feeling.

His eyes are not on you though. They’re on the crowd that’s slowly begun to gather.

They’re giving you a wide berth, but they’re stopping to look, and some have pulled out their cell phones to take photos or record video.

You can hear whispers shift through the cold New York winter air, people leaning over to each other in excitement and curiosity. Much like the crowd back in New Asgard had when you’d driven by them to get to your dress fitting and the wedding parade.

You can’t really make out what they’re saying but Thor can, and he wraps his arm around your waist, turns you to face those that are nearest, and waves.

You follow his example and give them as kind a smile as you can, despite the sudden nerves eating at you.

Shit, do you have to say something? Are you expected to?

“Hello everyone. I know most of you have seen her in the papers and on the interwebs already, but this is my beautiful and lovely Queen. My wife, Y/N.” Thor declares, but even your name he caresses with the soft shift in his tone.

“Hello?” You don’t mean it to come out as a question, but it does.

Still, there are a few people that giggle at your reaction.

A sense of calm overcomes those watching, as if finally hearing you speak seems to have burst a bubble.

“Aw yew a pwincess?” A small hand tugs at your skirts and you turn to look down at an adorable little girl with smooth deep brown skin. Her hair is gathered in two small buns, tight braids keep it neat.

All you can really see are her big brown eyes, so wide and full of wonder.

You pull from Thor’s grasp and squat down to be on the toddler’s level. She can’t be more than three.

“She’s my Queen, little one.” Thor explains, squatting down beside you. “Queen of New Asgard. Isn’t she pretty?”

The little girl giggles and nods, then reaches up to touch your own hair which has also been braided, one long in the middle giving it a mohawk look, and several other small braids along the sides to keep it neat while flying.

At least that’s the bit that you remember from this morning.

Thor had pulled you out of bed at four o’clock, led you to a chair in the bathroom and then started messing with your hair. Of course, that sent you right back off to sleep but you remember asking him sleepily at some point why he was braiding your hair and he’d explained that it was to keep it from getting all messy while flying.

That’s the last thing you remember before he was suddenly kissing you awake and then your mind was busy with the delicious way he carried you back to bed and then heartbroken when he said you had only ten minutes more to sleep while he showered.

You’re so tired.

Smiling at the little girl, watching her own joy grow in her eyes gives you new energy and you take her hand and hold it in your two.

“It’s so lovely to meet you…?”

A woman hurries over from the crowd, voice frantic as she seems to have finally spotted her little escapee.

“RUBY!” The poor mother cries, hurrying to her daughter’s side.

“Ruby,” You repeat.

The little girl turns to look at her mother while you keep hold of her hand.

“Wook mama! A Ka-ween!” She giggles and her mother slows, hesitating now that she notices you and Thor.

“Holy shi-” Her mother says, “I’m so sorry.”

Hurrying forward, she takes hold of Ruby’s shoulders and pulls her close, not because she’s threatened by you two or anything. She must be shocked.

You let her hand go as it’s pulled gently, and Thor helps you stand back up. Once you’re standing, he reaches down to take hold of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“It’s okay.” You shake your head, smiling at the woman as Ruby turns to hug her leg excitedly. “She’s very sweet.”

“She’s a troublemaker. That’s what she is.” The woman counters. “D-Do I have to curtsy or somethin’?”

“Not this time.” Thor tells her, “For having such an adorable child, we’ll give you the curtsy pass.”

He’s joking. Teasing the woman.

“Thor…” You nudge him and he chuckles, amused by you more than his joke. “What he means to say is, yes. Normally you would have to, but he knows I’m already nervous out of my mind so it’s okay.”

The woman looks around behind her, aware of the flashing camera phones and the videos they must be taking. So, she turns back to you and clumsily makes a curtsy.

Little Ruby sees her do it and then turns to you and does an even clumsier version of the same bow.

“Thank you.” You manage to say, voice almost completely deprived of volume from how nervous her attention makes you.

“Yes,” Thor agrees, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Both of you, for the warm New York welcome.”

“It was nothing.” The woman says, dipping down to pick up Ruby. “Say buh-bye, Ruby.”

As they walk away, Ruby twists in her mother’s arms to look over her shoulder at you and Thor and waves.

“Buh-bye!”

“Bye, Ruby.” You wave at her, smiling at her cuteness before you look up to meet Thor’s gaze.

“See, that wasn’t so terrible.” Thor gives you a squeeze. “Just our luck that it was an adorable child to greet you first.”

“She was so cute!” You gush, wishing you could take her home.

Maybe Thor sees the deep want in your own face because he leans in and presses his lips to your temple before resting them softly against your ear.

“Don’t worry, cherub. Soon we’ll have our own little one running around the palace.” He promises.

Even though he means it in an innocent way, the deep tone and intent in his voice is also very clear and if there weren’t a lot of people watching, you’d pull him down for a kiss.

He smirks down at you, almost like he knows that you picked up on that lusty vibe despite his words being sweet.

“You’re not playing fair.” You complain.

Thor chuckles then gives the crowd, which has grown quite a bit, another wave.

“Something to look forward to when we go home.” He reasons.

“Will we get to do everything you want with this crowd around us?” You give them a look and tuck yourself into Thor’s side a little more but wave all the same.

All these eyes on you. Watching you. Listening to every little thing you say?

“I’ll make it possible, cherub.” Thor assures you.

He twirls his hammer, a near replica of the one his sister destroyed before they arrived on Earth and takes a step towards the crowd with the look of someone about to make a speech.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you look at yourself, you still look like you. Still wearing the dress you’d pulled on in the morning. Braids still in place.

Thor is still in full uniform. Still holding his hammer. But as the two of you walk through the city, no one stops to look.

After you and Thor had ducked into that first shop—a bakery that had lured him in by the nose because apparently the breakfast you’d cooked him hadn’t been enough—and emerged freshly fed, none of the people who had stopped to watch you when you'd landed were looking at you as you passed them.

Some of them even looked right at you then away as if they didn’t recognize you.

“It’s magic.” Thor whispers in your ear.

He straightens up, watching you with an amused grin as understanding overcomes your face.

“A trick my mother taught me that Loki has helped me perfect. Would you like us to see what they do? Our clothes, I mean? We’ll still see each other.”

“Sure.” You nod, excited by the proximity of magic to yourself.

Thor gives you a nod. He twirls his hammer, held loose in his right hand and it turns into an umbrella.

His clothes are neat and somewhat formal. More of a business casual with dark pressed trousers, a thick black t-shirt made of a heavy and soft cotton blend. His jacket is coal gray, with just the slightest hint of brown.

You gasp lightly, stunned by the sight of him with two electric blue eyes. No sleek black and gold eyepatch. Just two pretty orbs that blink at the shock on your face.

“What, love?” He worries, reaching down to place his hand on your lower back as the two of you continue down the sidewalk.

“Your eyes.” You shake your head, speechless.

“Oh, yes. Well, it helps me blend in.”

His blonde hair is styled too, a smooth wave of the longer hair along the top of his head. Why is he so pretty?

Thor chuckles.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He teases, still looking forward.

“I’m staring,” You huff a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

But you give yourself a look and find yourself wearing a chic black pantsuit. More heavy cotton blend fabric from head to toe. It has that waterproof sheen though. Like if you spill something it’ll just roll off. Black long sleeve shirt with a higher than normal collar. It’s just a few inches short of being a turtleneck.

Over that you’re wearing a sleeveless wool trench coat with big black buttons and large pockets. The cut is feminine and left open since it’s cold but not too cold during the day with the sun streaming down.

It’ll be different tonight.

“We have these actual clothes waiting for us at the compound. I had them sent over when Stark told me that I’d be able to bring you for introductions. We can change in my room once we’re there, so we won’t be as constricted.” Thor takes your hand to his lips and gives it a kiss.

“You have a room at the compound? Isn’t it like a military base or something?” You wonder.

“Parts of it. There is a shooting range and a hangar with plenty of planes and jets. A pretty large garage with quite the selection of cars. Maybe we can go for a drive after dinner for some alone time?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, but you’re still trying to wrap your mind around bedrooms at the compound.

“Do some of the Avengers live on the compound?”

“Yes.” Thor nods, his attention pulled away from his suggestive expression. “Several of them do. Wanda lives there. Captain Rogers, Natasha, Vision, Samuel and Barnes live there now too. Stark has moved out to be with Pepper on some cabin they purchased together a year ago.

“Barton lives with his family, so he doesn’t stay at the compound. And of course, for me it has been a home away from home. The only other person that stays there but doesn’t live there permanently is Banner.

“After we arrived from our journey in space, he took to his lab and slept at the compound for nearly six months before he finally went home. He hasn’t come back to the compound since. Says he’s working on something, but he’s promised to be here for our dinner.” Thor assure you.

Sad to say that you can’t exactly be as excited as he is as the list of names, he just went through looms over you like a test you didn’t study for.

Suddenly he stops, and he waves over at another tall blonde man with storm blue eyes and what looks to be a full beard. His slightly outgrown blonde hair is pushed back, the tresses smooth and silky as he hurries towards you both, brown leather bomber jacket zipped shut over a pair of jeans.

“Oh, you’re dressed up.” He says, but you recognize him and as Thor stops, you find yourself gaping at Captain America. “Maybe I should have picked something nicer.”

“Not necessary. You and the rest of the team are friends.” He takes Captain America’s hand and shakes it before they both meet in a quick hug.

“It’s been too long.” Thor admits.

“Well, you’re a busy man now. King and all that.”

“H-How did you recognize us?” You stutter, focusing on the mystery before you instead of the fact that Captain America is standing right fucking there!

“I let him see us.” Thor explains. “The veil holds only for those I want to shield us from.”

“Oh.” You whisper, not intending to but you have no air in your lungs again.

Thor seems to read your frayed nerves because he reaches around to wrap his arm around your waist and offer you some support.

“Captain Rogers, this is my lovely and very nervous wife, Y/N Y/L/N. Queen of Asgard and if I’m honest, the love of my life.” Thor’s honest gushing, the way he sounds honest and so freaking sincere brings you back to yourself a little and with a squeeze from him, you relax.

“Steve, Thor. Please. I’m not Captain America anymore.” He says, almost as if it’s a reminder.

This confuses you because as far as you know, Steve Rogers is still Captain America.

“I read the e-mail.” Thor says, shaking his head. “I thought perhaps it was a joke.”

“Since when have I ever joked about something this serious?”

“I don’t know, I thought perhaps you might have-”

Steve Rogers turns to you, ignoring Thor for the moment as he holds his hand out and slowly you take it.

“I know I should probably bow, but we don’t want everyone knowing who I’m talking to so, is a handshake okay?”

“Of course!” You say breathlessly as he shakes your hand softly. His grip is firm, but you can tell he’s very aware of not hurting you.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” He begins, then leans in towards you and whispers, “Your Majesty.”

Both of you are left smiling while Thor’s eyes are narrowed at the two of you.

“How do you find married life? Has Thor gotten on your nerves yet?”

You can tell he’s joking because while he’s talking to you, he steals a quick side-eye at Thor to gauge his reaction.

“Not yet. But he does like to eat all of the bacon.” You whisper.

Steve makes a pained look, directing it at Thor, still holding your hand in that gentle handshake.

“That’s a big no-no.” Steve agrees.

“Right?” You press, enjoying the pout on Thor’s lips.

“Alright, Rogers, release my wife’s hand.” He reaches and takes your hand out of Steve’s forcefully, but you and Steve only chuckle.

Thor pulls your hand up against his chest and with his other arm still around your waist, he’s basically got you wrapped up in his arms.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting.” Steve laughs, moving towards a black luxury sedan.

Thor makes to move forward but you pull back, resisting because meeting Steve Rogers was already stressful enough.

Now you have to go meet the rest of them? Can’t you just call it quits now?

“Cherub?” Thor looks at you, the concern pouring from him so overwhelmingly sweet that you give in.

He wants this so badly. It’s so important to him. You’ll also have to do many things from here on out that will make you anxious and stressed.

Suck it up.

“I’m just nervous.” You tell him, as if he can’t already see it himself.

“Thor?” Steve calls from the driver’s side of the car. He’s got the door open, both arms resting against the top of the vehicle.

“A moment, Steve.” Thor says, and for some reason it gives Steve a curious look on his face.

It’s almost as if he’s not used to Thor calling him by his first name.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, my love. You’ve already met Rogers and he’s like one of those dogs with the long ears and the funny long howl when it comes to sensing when anything’s amiss. Clearly, he likes you. You’re perfection, Y/N. You have nothing to worry about.”

Thor’s gushing should make you feel better, and it does a little. But you’re about to meet so many people. All of them important to Thor. What if you say something that makes one of them angry? What if you and one of them—or all of them—just don’t mesh well?

“I just-I-I don’t want to, I don’t know, disappoint you?”

Thor’s face falls into complete adoration. His smile is soft but wide and so pleased. He takes a step towards you, reaching up with both hands to place them on the back of your head, just behind your ears.

“You’ve already made me so proud, cherub. You’re here, standing with your head held high, greeting the people of a foreign country with grace and kindness. You’ve made jokes with one of my closest comrades already. I have every faith that you will continue to outshine me.” He chuckles as you relax a little more. “Do you need a few minutes?”

You shake your head, reaching up to take hold of his wrists. “No.”

“Ready?”

“Yes,” you nod.

Thor slips his hands down, flicking them gently so that he can take hold of both your hands.

He pulls them to his lips and kisses them, never breaking eye contact.

He must lose concentration for his magic because as he kisses your knuckles, his two eyes turn into one as the eyepatch takes its place again.

His regular clothes turn back into his armor and your own dress shifts back into the more Asgardian appropriate attire.

“Uh, Thor?” Steve Rogers insists.

Thor looks at him and with a nod towards his body, Steve Rogers communicates the problem.

You look around and people are stopping their shopping and walking and going about their days to turn and look at the two Asgardian monarchs suddenly standing on the sidewalk in a sweet and affectionate embrace.

“Oops.” Thor smiles at them and gives them a wave while simultaneously taking hold of your hand.

You follow his lead and give them a regal wave and polite smile as he pulls you towards the car. Steve Rogers is already there, holding the back door open for you.

You get in and he shuts the door as Thor moves around to the other side and gets in too.

“You distracted me.” He accuses you, reaching around you to pinch your side.

You give a small scream of laughter then look at the watching crowd with a startled and embarrassed smile, but they’re pleased by the exchange. Some of them taking video and photos. Others just giggling and laughing along with you.

There are a few young women and men who even look envious. And honestly? Who wouldn’t?

You look and Thor and as he chuckles at your reaction to his teasing and the reaction of those watching as Steve Rogers pulls the car away from curb, you can understand their envy because Thor is beautiful and anyone, even if in the end they decide they don’t want to be with him, would be lucky to share in his love.

~~~~~~~~~~

You made Thor promise to keep his hands to himself and you’re already regretting it.

You feel like you’re going to pass out. It’s all wobbly on your legs.

Knees are buckling and you might go down any second.

Thor takes an inch in your direction, but you give him a frown and he clears his throat before going right back to the spot he’d been in.

Both of you stand in a long common room. There are two modern armchairs in a gray almost beige cotton fabric. Two long sofas in an orange sandstone color sit completely occupied.

On the sofa to the right sit two beautiful red heads. One has short shoulder-length hair with pale blonde tips. The other’s long locks in a deeper less vibrant red fall to the base of her shoulder blades.

The brighter red headed woman has a sharp face, with large bright green eyes and eyebrows that start somewhat full on the inner corners and slowly fade into much thinner lines.

They’re perfectly shaped for her face though it does give her a sterner look.

She’s wearing a plain black dress with capped sleeves and a plunging V neckline. Her shoes are simple black flats though, which she taps against the floor as she waits for you to speak. Black Widow is just as fearsome as she looks in the news.

The other woman is much younger, her youthful face round. Her eyes are a pretty soft brown, more inviting though still a little distrustful. This must be Wanda, the Scarlet Witch.

It’s like she’s analyzing every move you make.

Fuck.

Beside her sits a man with peachy skin, short blondish-reddish hair. He looks older than her, but still handsome.

Despite the appearance of his older age, he has hold of one of Wanda’s hands. Fingers intertwined.

They’re together.

Vision, your mind provides.

On the other sofa sits Steve, his eyes kind as he waits patiently for you to be ready. Beside him sits a handsome black man with an exhausted expression.

You can tell that it isn’t directed at you, but he looks tired. Just home from doing some Avengers work, maybe?

Beside him sits a middle-aged man with small streaks of gray at his temples. His face is kind, but he seems like he’s preoccupied. Like he’s got places to be or things to do.

He keeps wringing his hands slowly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he watches you.

On the far armchair is the man himself, Tony Stark. He looks every bit a king in his domain, just like Thor back home in New Asgard.

He owns the place—literally—and everyone knows it just by watching him sit there. He’s inquisitive about you, his mind clearly racing from the look in his eyes.

He’s the most analytical out of everyone. He keeps looking at you from head to toe, every shift in your stance, the way you hold your hands, or the fact that you’re looking each of them over and making your own conclusions catches his attention.

The last person in the room, and the only other one standing aside from you and Thor, is a tall beefy man with shortly cropped dark brown hair. He also looks tired, and he reaches up to rub his exhausted face with his shining black arm etched with golden veins that run through the sleek indestructible metal.

Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier. Though most people still call him that, from what Thor said in your prep when coming is that he’s been fixed?

No, that’s not the right way to phrase that. He’s not a dog. He’s been deprogrammed.

You don’t quite understand what that means, but you realized as Thor spoke that Hydra had done something to Bucky to make him do the things that he’d done. Like brainwashing, though you know nothing about how one gets brainwashed.

It made you sad, that someone would be that cruel and take from someone their identity and all the things that make them who they are. You heart aches for the former Winter Soldier and he gives you the tinies of smiles. Just a soft and subtle gesture of encouragement.

All eyes in the room are on you, and you’re freezing up so you appreciate the figurative extended hand.

When you speak, your voice trembles at first.

“I-It’s so…I’m s-so…”

They stir, sitting up straighter at the sound of your voice.

Get it together! You’re Queen of an entire fucking kingdom!

You clear your throat, and with a quick shallow breath you try again.

“I’m sorry, I’m a l-little nervous. I know how important you all are to Thor and I-I know this was sudden. We were both really sorry that you couldn’t come to the wedding but I’m so glad to meet you now. My name is Y/N, and I…I think that’s it?”

Turning to Thor, you find him smiling wide, singular eye bright. He’s proud and you can see it in the way he pulls his shoulders back and moves back towards you, slipping his arm around your waist.

Both of you are wearing the real versions of his illusion now minus the coats, formal King and Queen garb abandoned in his room.

Thor’s arm is a welcome warmth.

“That was wonderful, cherub.”

“Cherub?” A snarky voice teases, and both of you turn to look at Tony Stark.

“Leave them alone, Tony. I’ve heard some of the things you call Pepper when you think we aren’t listening.” The Black Widow, Natasha, cuts in.

“Like what?”

“Pudding-pop?”

“That’s a good one.” Thor observes. “Can I borrow it?”

“All y’all being really gross.” The new Captain America, Sam, points out.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have your own pudding-pop.” Bucky sighs, moving to the back of the sofa to lean both hands on the seat and look down at his friend.

“When’s the last time you had someone call you pudding-pop, Barnes?” Sam wonders, a clear attempt at a jab.

“Uh…1943? Just after I enlisted.” He answers, no sarcasm or embarrassment about that fact.

“You both need to get a life.” Natasha points out.

“You first.” Sam retorts.

Natasha fixes him with a look of confusion before getting up and moving towards Bucky. For a moment it looks as if she’s just going to pass right by him and into the kitchen behind him, but instead she slips her arm through his metal one and leans against him gently.

“I’ve got one. Don’t I, pudding-pop?”

The silence that follows is heavy but with building energy.

Then the room explodes with exclamations of, “What?!”

“When did this happen?!”

“How long have you two been a thing?”

“Why?!”

With their attention diverted, you relax, leaning into Thor’s embrace as Natasha catches your eye and gives you a quick subtle wink.

“I thought we were gonna wait?” You hear Bucky ask Natasha over the cacophony of voices demanding information, all of them on their feet again too except for Steve who is smiling and hiding it behind his hand.

Obviously he already knew, and it’s also obvious that Natasha revealed her relationship with Bucky for your benefit and to make meeting you the secondary event of this get together and while some women would be pissed that she’s gone and stolen your spotlight, you could not be more grateful.

~~~~~~~~~~

A metallic shoulder rubs against the side of your head and you lean away, gasping because you hadn’t expected the sensation.

You’re greeted with a metallic mask, similar to those of Tony Stark’s Iron Man helmet with slight variations around the mouth. The color is also brushed silver, the body white and red. It shifts to the side a little, away from you but it tips its head down in apology like an old 18th century gentleman.

“I’m sorry. Please, excuse me while I collect your empty plates.” The robot says.

“Sorry about the A.I., Cherub.” Tony says, then gives a quiet whistle. “Hey Bud, why don’t you take the night off?”

Beside you, Thor chuckles at Tony’s new nickname for you. He’s done nothing but call you cherub since Thor did earlier in the night. It’s going to stick, or so Steve had promised.

The A.I. straightens up and puts the plates back down before moving off down the hall and out of sight.

“Bud?” Bruce Banner asks, who insisted you call him Bruce and drop the Doctor and the last name.

You have to keep reminding yourself to do so every time you talk to him. Because you can’t seem to remember, you’ve just chosen not to talk to him until you can.

Tony gets to his feet, moving around the table to lean over you, hand placed on his jacket to keep it from swinging against you.

“B.U.D.” He repeats, each letter on its own. “Buggy and Underdeveloped. I’m working on it. I’ve got their manners down. Jarvis quality though not as reliable. Vision is helping me work out the kinks.”

“I do what I can.” Vision says, Wanda reaching around to massage the back of his shoulders.

“You’ve made all the improvements. Tony had them calling us dickheads that one week before he asked for your help.”

“It was a typo!” Tony moves around to Natasha’s plate and piles it on top of yours, then Bucky’s who mutters a nervous thanks which Tony also mutters back a somewhat stiff approval.

You’re not given much time to notice their exchange before Thor’s hand finds your thigh under the table and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You smile at him, reaching down to take his hand. “Just surprised. I’ve never been around artificial intelligence of that caliber.”

“Don’t worry, Cherub. You’ll be used to it soon. You’ll be getting an upgrade at that pretty space cottage of yours pretty soon.” Tony says, grabbing a few glasses one at a time as he moves around the table.

“I’ll help you, Stark.” Thor suddenly says and releases your hand to move around the table and grab the other plates and glasses.

Why does he call him by his last name? Habit maybe?

“Thanks,” Tony nods.

“Space cottage?” You’re not sure what he means.

“Yeah, that big wooden house you all call a palace?” Tony clarifies.

“Oh,” Silly way to look at it. “There’s steel too.”

Tony smirks, “Well, I’ll be sending some people over to get a security system installed and an advanced satellite scanner to catch any movements that might come in from—up there. With this new threat that-”

Thor coughs loudly, dropping a glass that makes a terrible shattering glass sound against the black tabletop. Bucky catches the glass and holds it still then offers it up to him again.

Tony meets Thor’s singular eyed gaze who shakes his head minutely.

“-which I guess you’re not supposed to know? Whoops.” And with that he turns and leaves the room.

You look at Thor and find him watching you, then he quickly turns and follows Tony out of the room.

Whenever you’ve read in the past that someone sees red, you’d always suspected that it was metaphorical. However, you see red as your brain short circuits and all you can feel is a level rage.

The one thing you’d asked of Thor was that he won’t keep secrets from you and here is one, not even a week after your wedding!

“Don’t worry.” Natasha interjects, getting up from her seat. “When it’s worth knowing about, Thor will tell you. He just doesn’t want you to worry.”

Your frown only grows. You can’t seem to get your sudden temper flare under control.

“You’re upset.” Steve notices, getting up when everyone also starts to rise. “Why?”

You follow their example and get to your feet, pushing your chair under the table before following them into a smaller living room space just off the main common room while trying to quell your anger.

The living room is mostly white and gray with a long sectional that is full of red pillows.

“Because I’m Queen of New Asgard.” You point out, speaking a little more firmly than you mean to.

Steve gestures to the seat at the edge of the sectional and you take it, swallowing hard as you shove some of that upset down into your tummy so that you won’t lash out at the very nice people that Thor sees as family.

“You are.” Steve agrees. “No one would argue that you aren’t.”

Does he not get it?

“He might not want me to worry, but I have a responsibility to the people of New Asgard. If something is happening that might affect them, I need to know.” You cross your arms across your chest, huffing lightly and letting that be the peak of your temper.

You don’t want to fight with Thor here in front of everyone.

The reaction isn’t what you expect.

Sam, who is sitting on the floor at the bend in the sofa leaning against it as the weight of his sleepiness begins to take over, whistles.

Long and slow.

Bucky chuckles as Natasha settles beside him, her arms crossed across her chest as she leans back into his arm.

They don’t look together even if they are, just comfortable. Bucky’s arm curves a little more for her and is the only giveaway that there’s more between them than friendship.

She smirks. On the sofa beside you, Wanda leans forward to try and get a look at your pouting face, her red curtain of hair falling over her shoulder. Vision is standing by the TV looking at a collection of records to put on a turntable that sits ready and empty.

Dr. Ban-Bruce isn’t anywhere in sight.

Steve settles in beside Wanda but closer to Sam, leaving enough room for Vision to sit when he’s finished with the music.

“Thor said you had some bite.” Natasha shares, “Said something about you standing up for Loki? What’s that about?”

You feel your cheeks burn, neck too. With a shrug, you drop your arms and clutch at the fabric of your pants by your knees.

“Yeah, dude’s pretty psycho,” Sam adds.

“Sure, yeah, because a bunch of people dressing up in costumes and going around fighting crime and otherworldly forces are completely sane.”

Shit, did you seriously just say that?

There’s a beat of silence, then, “She sounds very sensible. Now that I’ve had some time with it, I think the cape might have been a touch too far.”

Everyone chuckles, and you turn to look at Vision who finally picks an album and slips it in place.

“Sorry,” You offer, hesitating a moment before you decide to explain yourself. “Loki has been nothing but kind to me. And calling him a psycho offends me. I know you all and the rest of the planet, have issues with him and what he did…so did I, but he’s trying. And he’s family now…like you all…so…”

Your words trail off as you turn to look for Thor, but you can still see him across the common room in the kitchen, exchanging hushed words with Tony and it’s starting to rile you up again. What’s coming? What’s so important that Thor has brought in the Avengers too?

“What did Thor call it?” Bucky asks Nat.

“Bite.” Steve tells him, “She’s got bite.”

“I’d say it’s more like a sting. But she’s right. I don’t think any of us here can judge someone by their past. At least I can’t.” Bucky nods.

“Or me,” Nat agrees.

“Or me,” Wanda smiles.

And then the music starts. Vision turns, hands behind his back as he also smiles at the general pleasantries.

“Taylor Swift?” Sam demands, “Really?”

Vision’s smile vanishes and he gives him nice wide eyes of surprise, “I’ve never heard this one before.”

“Excuse me.” You get up and move towards the kitchen, determined to get an explanation while the room behind you continues to argue the merits of Vision exploring different musical avenues.

“Whose album even is that?” Sam demands.

Steve clears his throat, “I think you should both get some sleep. I want a debrief first thing in the morning. I might not be Captain America anymore, but I’m still running this show.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, you’ve never accepted the boss mantle until now. Which other albums do you have in your room that you’re too afraid to share?” Nat adds.

“Hey, I have no shame in my musical taste.” Steve defends.

As you near the kitchen, the open spaces separated only by two large circular pillars and a sleek concrete counter island, you slow as their quiet conversation begins to reach your ears. It wasn’t necessarily that you’re trying to eavesdrop…but they’re not talking about what you expected them to be talking about. So, you freeze.

Too nervous to move, forward because what the hell? Or back, because they’ll no doubt hear your retreat.

Where’s the talk about threats to the kingdom and planet? No, you get a nice dose of fear and jealousy instead.

“You only knew her for a week before you married her?”

“It was arranged. All of you knew this. I explained it the last time we met.”

“I get that, but what-” You can hear the hesitation in Tony’s voice.

Despite the fact that he knows he probably shouldn’t bring it up, he throws his dishtowel on the counter and turns around to lean against it as Thor’s hands continue to sift through the dishes, washing them slowly. “What happened to Foster? Weren’t you two pretty hot and heavy? Last time you brought her here-”

“Jane has other priorities.” Thor cuts him off, clearly still hurt from his breakup with Jane.

You hate the sound in his voice. Why does he have to be so clearly heartbroken?

“That’s all I get?” Tony asks, waiting and leaning in a little closer to Thor.

“What else would you have me say? It was hard to leave her. And if I’m honest, I still find myself thinking about what life might have become if she’d been ready to settle down.”

What?

You take a step back, wanting to get away from this horrible conversation you wish you hadn’t accidentally run into. Retreat being heard be damned!

But then, “Cherub?”

It’s Tony, a smirk in his voice as he turns to help Thor dry the dishes he sets aside.

“She is my angel.” Thor smiles, just a teeny upturn at the corners of his lips as he steals a glance at Tony.

Your heart gives a painful clench at the love that you’ve been seeing in his eye pour through in his voice.

“A celestial creature sent to me by fate. I had no knowledge of the capacities of love. I’ve only ever found love as I found Jane’s. We were met by chance, and the attraction was clear and instant. Intention as well. With my cherub, things though they grew quickly, were harder to find. I had to look past my own melancholia to see that she was there waiting for me.”

“She does look like she’s completely lost it.” Tony nudges Thor aside because he’s taking so long and takes over the washing.

“I hope you mean lost her heart to me?”

“What else? Her mind? Though why anyone would agree to rule an entire country is beyond me.”

“She’s brave.” Thor boasts, body completely relaxed. “I’ve never known anyone with her courage. The first night of our engagement she demanded that I be honest with her, even if I decided to keep Jane as a mistress.”

Tony looks at him, eyebrow quirked as he asks a voiceless question.

“Which of course, is out of the question. I entertained the thought for a bit, I can’t deny it. At the very beginning as I was making my plans to go leave Jane, to end things permanently so that I could do right by Y/N and really try to make our marriage something lasting—I wanted to keep Jane at my side by any means necessary.

“Imagining a life without her was painful and I hate to admit that I had every intention in those last moments before I saw her to ask her to be with me even after I was married.” Thor confesses, sounding torn between guilt and desperation.

You remember seeing that desperation in him before he’d gone to see Jane.

Even after his proposal to you, even after those earth-moving kisses, he’d wanted to keep Jane at his side.

Of course, he did. You shouldn’t be surprised by that. He and Jane had shared so much before you came into the picture. Before you were forced in if you’re honest.

Still, it hurts, and you hate hearing it.

For a second time, you take a step back, wanting to leave.

But then, “What changed your mind?”

Thor sighs heavily, exasperated, exhausted by something.

He crosses his large arms across his chest, black shirt straining against his biceps and pecs. He’s so massive. Standing next to Tony only accentuates that fact.

“It took her two hours to make time to speak with me, and another three before she stopped explaining her work on energy spikes in some far East quadrant of space to let me even bring up the fact I was officially engaged to someone else.

“The only reason I was able to hold off for so long is that she would come and kiss me every twenty minutes to promise that she’d be done soon.”

You hate that.

“It was the waiting around after three months of having seen her last and six months since we’d been together. I just couldn’t stand the thought of that always being my life. As much as I loved her, I didn’t want to spend my marriage waiting for a woman when another had already assured me of her commitment to rule at my side as wife and Queen.”

“Is that the only reason you’re so into your Cherub? Because she obviously likes you?”

“No.” Thor shakes his head, “No, there are many things about Y/N that draw me to her. Most of them I’ve discovered since I made the choice to really let Jane go. When I came home that night, she was there to lure me back from the pit I’d crawled myself into by telling Jane goodbye.”

Tony stops washing to fix Thor with a knowing gaze. He scoffs then turns back to his washing.

“So, the sex is good, is what you’re saying?”

“The sex is very good. Incredibly good. I have no complaints about our physical chemistry. In fact, it’s better than with Jane or anyone else I’ve ever been with. I’m not sure what it is, but we are very well suited in the bedroom. She has such vigor, such desire. I am never in no doubt of her want of me. It’s so good that I almost didn’t want to bring her here because then I’d have to give up an entire day of having her to myself wrapped up in nothing but her bedsheets.”

“Alright, I think I get the picture.” Tony holds up one soapy hand to stop Thor’s bragging. “So, she sleeps with you and makes you feel better. Jane makes you wait, so you end it for good. Did you at least give her a proper goodbye?”

Thor is silent, and this time, you don’t want to know. You’ve already guessed and have been suspecting that this is very much the case, but you don’t want the confirmation.

If that’s what happened when he went to see Jane, you don’t want to know. Even if it happened before you two were married and really together, it happened when you were already in the picture and your heart was already being swayed.

Stepping out from behind the large round pillar, one hand resting against the smooth black curve, you watch Thor think about Tony’s question, tilting his head up to look across the room towards the living room space where the Avengers are now laughing about who the hell knows what.

He sees you and his face loses color.

“Thor?”

“What’s the matter?” He asks, a small bit of panic in his voice.

He moves towards you and you move towards him, meeting halfway.

“Did you hear?” He knows, probably because of whatever is on your face that’s making him panic.

His large hands are already pushing your numerous braids back, throwing them over your shoulders gently so that he can place his hands on your neck.

“Thor,” You repeat, this time getting a hold of yourself and reaching up to grab his wrists and pull his hands down away from your face. “What’s coming?”

This is why you’d come in here, and this is what you’ll insist on knowing. Fuck everything else they were talking about. You don’t want to know, and you don’t care what happened or what Thor felt before both of you exchanged vows.

“What?”

He seems stunned by the shift of topic, despite the agony that you’d momentarily been in. His voice even cracks a little, too shocked by the change.

“The new threat,” You clarify. “This new thing that we need satellites back home for? What is it? What’s happening? I know that you probably don’t want me to worry or want to protect me or maybe you’re still thinking of me as a civilian? But I’m Queen of our kingdom, Thor. If something is coming for us, I deserve to know. I need to know what’s coming if I’m going to help you protect our people. It’s my job and I can’t do it if you don’t let me.”

“Cherub’s got a point.” Tony adds, and claps Thor on the shoulder before gathering up a tray and makes his way out of the kitchen and towards the others with a bottle of beer for each of them.

“You’re right.” Thor nods, reaching to take your hands and he pulls them up to his lips kiss away the pain that he must have seen you feeling.

He seems to know though that you don’t want to focus on that and so he doesn’t bring it up.

You can tell he wants to though. He really wants to talk about what was just said in this kitchen.

“Yes, you’re right, you should know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you frightened or worried when you didn’t have to be, but you’re right. As Queen, you have every right to know what might be coming. But can’t we wait to talk about it until later? Tonight perhaps? When we’re alone?”

You don’t want to agree. You want to make demands of him and make him tell you everything right now. However, you also know that you’re a little angry about what you overheard and that’s probably why your pulse is pounding in your throat, heart ramming itself against your ribcage.

“Fine.” You huff then turn to move back into the living room.

“Hey,” He coaxes you back, voice low and deep so that the others won’t hear him.

He catches your wrist and pulls you back gently.

“Did you hear us? Because if you did, when I went to leave Jane I-”

“I don’t wanna know, Thor. If you slept with her, I don’t want to know.” You sigh, stomach clenching painfully. “You did what you have to do. It’s not like you and I fell in love in any kind of traditional way. We were forced together and now we’re married. I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you aren’t, and as true as all of that is, I don’t like the way you’re talking about it.” Thor agonizes, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer and further into the kitchen out of view of the others. “You’re acting as if I don’t love you, or as if it’s a farce. I love you, cherub. It happened quickly, but it is real.”

“I know that, Thor,” It’s nice to hear though, because you’re seriously feeling weak in the confidence you’d spent every night since your wedding building.

For a bit there, you’d believed wholeheartedly that Thor loves you. You still do…but the realities of Jane and how quickly he’d had to end that relationship with her because he had to marry you to give his people a Queen have been brought to light and ruptured the bubble of your new marital bliss.

It’s also suddenly very clear to you that he must still love Jane very much. Even if he loves you too. There’s no way he can move on this quickly.

“You don’t look like you do. You look sad and it’s putting knots in my stomach, love. Please don’t doubt me now.”

Fuck!

You lean forward, shoving your forehead against his wide chest. You wrap your arms around his waist and fist the back of his shirt as he brings his hands up to the sides of your head. You can feel his lips against your scalp, kissing against the large middle braid that goes down along the back of your head.

“This is so hard.” You admit, hating your jealousy.

“I wish I could take all of your strife.” He kisses your head again, an audible smack. “I’m sorry I’m the one making it for you.”

Both of you knew that this would be tricky.

“I swear to you, cherub, it’s only you. You are the only woman I want and the only being in the universe that I want to bear my children.” His words are full of truth and you look up at him to find that same honesty in his gaze.

It’s pained and sorrowful and you hate it.

“I shouldn’t have listened.” You pull yourself up against his body and push yourself up with puckered lips.

Eagerly he leans down to meet your lips with his own but he shifts his head to the side to deepen the peck you’d wanted to leave you in no doubt as to his devotion, or at the very least, his passion.

He leans down to wrap his arms around you and press you up against the side of the pillar.

“Thor…” You whisper when he pulls back to tilt his head the other way. “We’re guests here.”

The reminder cools him down and he places his hands on your hips instead while you tickle the hairs on the back of his neck.

“We should get back to your friends.”

Thor sighs heavily, hating this idea, but he knows you’re right.

He reaches up to take hold of the back of your neck, squeezing it possessively before he leans down to give you one more quick kiss.

“Tonight, I will leave you in no doubt as to my devotion and love. I promise.”

His declaration takes your breath away, and apparently Bruce’s too as he sputters a cough around his own beer as he freezes on the other side of the kitchen by the fridge where another large round pillar lines a different entrance opposite the side you’re both standing on.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Bruce says, reaching up to wipe at the beer dribble around his mouth.

Thor takes his hands back and you slip out from between him and the pillar then make your way back towards the living room feeling flushed.

As you walk back in, observing the room, Steve and Vision are currently playing an apparently rousing game of Connect Four on the floor while Nat and Bucky sit cuddled up on the far corner of the sectional, talking quietly but also giving the two battling on the floor the occasional glance.

Wanda is on her phone, typing away quickly with a beer held between her thighs. Sam is standing by the records, despite his previous griping, nodding his head as Taylor Swift’s 22 fills the space.

Tony is on his own phone, standing in the far corner of the room with a sappy smile on his own face which tells you he’s probably talking to his own wife, Pepper Potts, who couldn’t make it tonight due to a work engagement.

All of them have a beer around them or in hand, and as you make your way towards the bend in the sectional feeling a little like you’re intruding, just as your back hits the sofa a cold bottle meets your cheek.

You jump a little but turn to look and Tony holds out a sealed bottle for you.

“You okay with import? Or do you want domestic?” He asks, holding his phone to his shoulder, brows drawn together as he waits for your answer.

“This is fine, thanks.” You take the bottle and then give him a quick smile.

“Good, because then I’d have sent you down to get your own.” He assures you, but a voice from his phone calls his name and he hurries away again, phone pressed to his ear.

You look at the bottle of beer in your hands, wondering if the top is a twist but when you go to turn it the ridges hurt your hand and you stop instantly.

Just as you’re about to lean over and ask Bucky to open the bottle for you, the sectional dips beside you and heat envelops your shoulder and side as Thor sits right beside you.

“It sounds like excuses to me.” He says, looking at Bruce who sits down beside him with a bit more space allowed between them.

“It’s not an excuse,” Bruce insists. “I’m working on something that needs all of my concentration. I’ll come visit soon, I promise. I’m going to be coming with Tony for the security system installation so, I’ll get to see the palace then.”

“Thor?” You hold the bottle up for him and he takes it from you, kissing the side of your head before he simply flicks the top with his thumb and it flies off and falls right on Steve’s head.

“Hey,” He complains, but then gets distracted as Vision connects his four red chips.

“I win.” Vision declares.

“Damn,” Steve concedes. “You got me. Go again?”

Vision dumps the chips, and they start splitting them up.

“Here you are, cherub.” Thor hands you back your beer, and you take a quick drink before settling in against Thor’s side a bit more comfortably as he gives you a squeeze but continues to chat with Bruce.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor xyou #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #thor odinson x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #a wife for thor pt12

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ecto-american · 4 years

Text

The Fenton Conspiracy

Phic Phight Oneshot for SummersSixEcho: The Fentons only have two children...Right?

Read on FFN and AO3

"Um...hello?" Maddie spoke hesitantly at seeing three children sitting in the Fenton kitchen, eating breakfast. They all looked up at her when she spoke. "Morning Jazz, Danny. And…" She trailed off.

An unfamiliar child was eating cereal, and she was an absolute doppelganger of her son. Black hair pulled back in a side-braid, bright blue eyes just like Jack's. She smiled warmly at her as she chewed. Maddie couldn't help but notice that she was dressed in Jazz's old black tank-top and jeans.

"Morning!" Jazz chirped. She had a bagel and coffee, and Maddie never took her eyes off of the trio as she went to fetch a cup.

She broke contact enough to pour herself some, only to set it all down. Nobody was sleeping over that she could remember. She looked a tad too young to be one of Jazz's friends, and the only girl Danny ever brought around was Sam. This was definitely not Sam. Who was she? How come she had never seen her before?

The huntress spun to meet the three.

"I'm very sorry, dear, but who are you?" she asked. The unfamiliar child frowned.

"Mom, this is Ellie," Jazz scowled. "Your youngest? Our little sister?" Maddie had no clue how to respond to that. "How can you forget her?"

"I only have two kids," Maddie said firmly. She turned to get her coffee, taking a drink. There was no way she was just simply so tired that she was hallucinating the entire thing.

"You have three," Danny spoke up. As always, he sounded exhausted, and he was also eating cereal. "Trust me, they gang up on me."

"It's true, I made him give me a piggyback ride home from school yesterday," the unfamiliar girl, Ellie?, replied cheerfully.

"She did, lazy little," Danny muttered off something as he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"It was far, and I was tired!" Ellie exclaimed.

"No, no," Maddie insisted. "I have two children." Danny sighed tiredly.

"Mom, how come you don't remember me?" Ellie's voice sounded absolutely heartbroken, and Maddie immediately felt a wave of guilt.

It didn't take long to immediately be hit with concern. What was this? Maddie knew she only had two children. There was no way one simply...forgot a child. As in, not forgot your child at the store, but the entire existence of a girl who had to be at least fourteen? This had to be some kind of prank. Her children wouldn't prank her like this though, would they? Neither were cracking up into giggles, the normal giveaway. Instead both were casually eating like it was...normal. Nothing seemingly out of place.

Maddie studied the girl as she took a long sip of coffee. She looked way too much like Danny and Jack for it to be some random girl for a prank either. Even if they found a doppelganger, which in itself was so unlikely, she could already immediately notice Fenton-specific quirks. The using of the inner wrist to wipe her mouth instead of a napkin of her hand, the way all of the children hunched over as they ate. It was odd how...much this girl fit into the family.

"What's going on?" Maddie demanded to know. She set the cup down on the table. Danny sighed, dropping his spoon into the cereal.

"Fine. I got detention again," he confessed. Maddie stared at him, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Look, I'm sorry. It wasn't my fault, it was Dash, he-"

"I mean about this girl, Daniel James," Maddie spoke coldly. Ellie dropped her own spoon in shock.

"I didn't do anything!" Ellie whined. "He's the one who got detention, I was in the library the whole time with Valerie!"

"You little liar!" Danny accused. "You weren't in the library, you were setting up a prank for Paulina with Sam!"

"Was not!" Ellie protested.

"Was too!" Danny argued back.

Was she having a stroke? Maddie watched the bickering in stunned silence as she tried to piece together everything.

"Are you a ghost?" Maddie asked bluntly, even though she immediately felt silly for asking such a thing. Of course a ghost wouldn't come out and confess such a thing.

Jazz sighed, annoyed as she put her bagel down.

"Mom, this is your daughter," she insisted. "Why do you resort anything to ghosts? It's not healthy to obsess this much on ghosts. Maybe tonight we should have a family night. It's been a while since we had one."

"Ugh," Danny made an annoyed noise from the back of his throat. "I'm not in the mood to watch Ghostbusters for the hundredth time."

"We can play board games!" Ellie pointed out.

"That's even worse," Danny complained.

"One of you two are going to explain what's going on," Maddie pressed her two (?) children, staring directly at Jazz and Danny. Neither flinched, nor gave any of their normal indications that they were lying, which honestly? Chilled her. What was going on?

"Ugh, one second." Jazz left the room, muttering something about the stairs. She returned moments later with her scrapbook, opening it, and Maddie couldn't believe her eyes.

This girl was in every family photo, and there were baby pictures of her. Pictures of school events with her there. Pictures of Maddie holding her as a baby, of her having three children at the beach and three Fenton children opening presents.

She didn't know what to think.

"We're gonna be late," Ellie spoke up, nodding at the clock. Everybody else glanced up.

"Ah, shoot," Jazz sighed. "Come on, I'll drive us."

Maddie watched Jazz and Danny pick up their normal backpacks, and Ellie pick up Danny's old backpack, a Crash Nebula themed one that he claimed to have outgrown.

"Bye Mom, love you!" Danny called out.

"Love you, see you after school," said Jazz, the three leaving the kitchen.

"Bye Mom! I love you!" Ellie chimed in.

"Um...have a good day, kids," Maddie spoke slowly. "I love you too."

She heard the trio of children chattering happily in the hallway, collecting coats and other winter gears. Nothing in particular, mostly just teenage talk about the upcoming day. School projects, friends, pointing out the recent snow and discussing weekend plans. The door opened, and it shut.

Maddie hurried to the window, watching the trio get into Jazz's car, it turning on almost instantly. Dani sat in the back, and Danny in the passenger seat. The car sat idle for a few seconds before her daughter pulled out of the driveway and took herself and her sibling, siblings?, to school. Maddie slipped back at the table, drinking coffee and looking through the scrapbook. When the hell did she gain a third child?

123456789

Jazz sighed heavily as she grasped the steering wheel. Her siblings got into the car, and as soon as the doors shut, she finally spoke.

"I think that...actually kinda worked," she replied. She glanced up at FentonWorks in amazement.

"The power of just acting casual," Ellie grinned. The clone buckled her seatbelt. "Tucker's amazing at Photoshop."

"Was this really easier than just telling them the truth?" Jazz accused Danny. He shrugged, clicking the seatbelt into place and leaning back.

"That's the backup plan. But all we really need to do is convince an entire school, Dad when he gets home, our neighbors and extended relatives that Ellie's always been here, and also somehow keep Vlad from finding out," Danny grinned. Jazz made an annoyed huff.

"Good luck," she scoffed, and she backed out of the driveway.

#phics #phic phight #my phics #danny phantom #team ghost

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artxyra · 5 years

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In Her Darkest Moments

Note: So this story came from me listening to the song “The Bully” by Sody. If the last part seems kind of lost it because I started this on a whim and took a break to work on other projects (both school-related and personal). There might be more added to this later but I’m not sure yet. Anyways, enjoy.

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Trigger warning: thoughts of suicide

Anger can manifest in multiple ways, but it’s what you do with that anger that can change the outcome of a single event.

~*~

Marinette may have grown used to the Lila and her classmates’ bullying towards her, but that didn’t mean she was slowly shattering. Every day was a war zone for her. Looking behind her back every second of the day, hoping that she wouldn’t stand out. But this has been going on for two years nearly three now. She can’t take it anymore.

Suicide was the easy way out, and she knows this. It was confronting her bullies and saying goodbye that was the hardest.

Gripping onto her sleeves, she covers the marks of cutting, forcing herself to acknowledge she was okay when she clearly wasn’t. No one knew she was doing this to herself, and she wants to keep it that way. No longer did she wore pink capris with a white blouse and blazer, but now a grey knitted sweater with a pair of skinny jeans and low-heeled wedges. It was a nice change, but she didn’t feel like herself in her own skin.

Walking into her high school, Dupont’s sister school, she ignores the glances coming her way. Making her way to her locker, she quickly grabs the items needed for class and scurries down the halls. Because of the lack of akuma attacks, she’s often on-time to class and gets a decent night of rest when nightmares aren’t plaguing her mind.

Her books fell from her arms. She staggers in her steps.

“Oh my god, Marinette! Why did you purposely drop your books on me?” She dreads the familiar Italian accent female. Lila could only internally smirk at her work because it wasn’t long before Alya made her voice known.

“What the hell, Marinette, that’s the fifth time this week. What is wrong with you?”

A hard jab came to her shoulders. Marinette counts to ten. Her breathing evens just enough for her to gain her bearings. She grabs her books and pushes through the growing crowd of Lila supporters. No one is never on her side anymore.

Taking her seat, she barely acknowledges the disappointed look she was receiving from Adrien. Adrien, oh sweet Adrien, the blonde model manages to convince his father to let him continue with public school under the intention of doing more photo-shoots. They barely have spoken since collége and he unknowingly played into Lila’s greedy hands.

“Good Morning class,” The teacher greets as she walks in. Marinette doesn’t acknowledge today’s lesson as her mind started to doodle in her worn-out notebook.

Lila made sure that everything good in Marinette’s life was a diminished flame. Turning the former bluenette’s parents against her was the tipping point of it all. She would copy Marinette’s work, turn it in before the latter could get up from her seat. That would then turn into a long meeting with the school’s dean about plagiarism and dishonesty. It was a miracle that Marinette was still able to attend the school with the constant amount of this occurring.

Marinette’s safe place slowly became this Ladybug and Chat Noir theme café. She goes by there every day after school instead of heading home. It’s a great place for her to work on her projects without the fear of being judged, bullied and copied from. The owner, an older woman, grew to love the teen’s company and told her that she was welcome at any time of the day. She’ll forever remember the day that Marinette gave her the most heartfelt real smile instead of the dull, barely reaching her eyes smile. Those were the days that the two of them will cherish forever.

She sighs, pushing the unfinished work of a new design away from her. The owner notices this and looks around. There was no need to take orders; she quickly makes her over to the struggling teen.

“Is everything alright dear?” She asks, placing a comforting hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

A gentle gesture was all it took for her to breakdown. Tears stream down her face, red watery eyes glance up to the older woman breaking the owner’s heart. She hates seeing Marinette like this. Pulling the young woman into a comforting hug, Marinette cries into her chest.

“Shh, everything will be alright one day.” The owner repeats into the teen’s ear, rubbing on her back.

When Marinette couldn’t cry her eyes out anymore, she lifts herself up from the older woman’s lap to look around. The sky has darkened and there was no one in the café beside the two of them.

“I’m so sorry.” She immediately apologizes.

“Nonsense, Marinette. You clearly needed to let it all out.”

Marinette couldn’t help but look down in shame. She doesn’t deserve any of this comfort. To her, a mental breakdown went weakness and weakness is something that has been affecting her in all aspects of her life.

“I should get home.” Marinette murmurs holding herself.

As much as the owner didn’t want the teen to leave, she knew she couldn’t stop Marinette from leaving. Sighing, she hands Marinette her bags and wishes her goodbye.

Dread fills Marinette as she returns home, but something stops her from entering. Perhaps it was because of her parents and their lack of trust for her. Maybe it was the cool protective breeze of the night’s air. Biting her bottom lip, she pushes against the door and quickly makes a be-line to her bedroom.

Her room lacks its usual luster. Over the years, she slowly became dissociated from her room leaving it frozen in her middle school personality with only pops of colors representing her now.

Not wanting to go to sleep, she finds herself on the balcony watching the stars.

“You could have asked me if you wanted to stargaze tonight.” Her frown deepens hearing one of many voices she doesn’t want to hear.

“Go away, Chat.” She demands; caring less that it will hurt his feelings, but she knows him well enough that the word “no” isn’t in his vocabulary.

“Meow-ch, Princess—” He begins but Marinette turns to him with a glare on her face.

“Don’t call me, princess. I hate it.” She states getting up from her position. Chat Noir touches her shoulder only for her to push him away.

“No, you don’t.” He tries to counter, giving her his cat-like smirk, “Your heart wouldn’t have fluttered if you didn’t.”

Marinette scrunches her face. A single tear slides down her cheek. Chat, being the heroic knight he is, pulls her in for a hug, she tries to break free but due to her fatigue, she couldn’t. Instead, she wiggles in his arms.

“Let go of me.” She demands.

“You’re kidding me?” Chat slightly pushes her away, only to take in Marinette. Her body’s shaking, her arms hugs her torso, and tears ran down her face.

“Goodbye, Chat Noir.” Marinette rush towards the trapdoor and enters it.

She wants it all to end. To be fear from the nightmare that is her life. Collapsing onto the floor, the waterworks began. Tikki finally making her presences known and cuddles next her chosen knowing it was only time before Marinette gives up.

Marinette barely found the energy to wake up the next morning.

“Marinette, breakfast is ready!” She heard her mother’s voice carry out from the lower floor.

Trudging down from her bedroom and into the kitchen, Marinette sits down and stares silently at the plate of food in front of her. This felt odd. It’s been months since her mother made breakfast for the family. Her excuse has been that the store needs more attention and earlier opening time. When was the last she saw her mother’s bright smile and not the disappointed look? Marinette couldn’t remember for the life of her.

“Um…merci, maman.” Marinette murmurs taking a small bite.

Sabine either ignored the appreciation or she didn’t hear it, causing Marinette to feel even more out of place. It was after her tenth bite, that Marinette gave up on breakfast and walk out of the room. Looking at her phone, she realizes that class was going to start soon. Opting to ditch today, Marinette changes into a simple tee and a pair of denim shorts. Maybe today will be a better a day than the rest.

~*~

Marinette was enjoying her day away from school, but that all ends when a notification came through on her phone. It was the contents in that notification that made her want to hide, to throw up, and never show her face again. How could someone be so cruel to photoshop a photo of her doing explicit poses and send it to everyone in her class? How did they even get her new phone number?

The comments surrounding the post was a mixture of good and bad. Some, those who know her, wrote that it was clearly photoshopped, critiquing the image while others were expressing their shock and disappointment in Marinette for taking such photos.

Everything’s ruined. Her reputation (that was already on the rocks), her dreams, her life.

Locking herself in the nearest bathroom, that she could find, she collapses to the floor. Breathing became a challenge, her mind making thousands of scenarios, causing her to spin around confused and dazed. Reality began to shift into nothing. Grasping for air, she uses the sink to balance her, but no strength came to her aid.

“Marinette!” Tikki worries for chosen. She felt useless. Useless that to help her chosen, she must reveal the three-year secret that they’ve kept hidden. “I will get help. Please stay strong.” Tikki cries out, flying out the bathroom in search for help.

Marinette didn’t know how long she stayed in a fetal position on the floor. Minutes, maybe even hours there. Because the next thing she knew was the loud banging on the bathroom door. Someone’s calling out her name from the other side. The loud sound made her want to curl, even more, anything to get away from the torture that’s she experiencing.

“Marinette,” The voice calls out more clearly.

Arms surround her fragile body. They pull her in closer to their chest. She clings to the person’s shirt as it was the only tangible object that was grounding her to reality.

“I got you. You’re safe, Nette. Come back to me.” The voice whispers into her ear.

Her breathing evens.

The voice continues to repeat the same phrase as it was bringing her back to reality and calming her down. Her grip lessens on their shirt.

“That’s it, Nette. Come back to me.” He murmurs.

“Is she alright?” Another voice asks. It was feminine, something that allowed Marinette to feel safe and loved. Another pair of hands wrap around her body.

Darkness begins to fade away allowing the bright colors of images to flood her senses. Blinking, Marinette looks around and sees Kagami and Luka holding onto her. Her eyes make their way to the door where Felix stood with concern in eyes stoic eyes.

“W-w-what happened? H-h-how did I get here?” She stutters clenching onto Luka’s shirt even more.

“You’re okay, now, Nette. If it wasn’t for Tikki, we probably wouldn’t have known to be here.” Kagami says rubbing the small teen’s blue hair. Marinette welcomes it and cuddles closer to the woman.

“It was Rossi that caused this mess. I’m sure we can charge Rossi with slander and defamation.” Felix voices his opinion.

“Let’s ignore, Rossi, for a moment and focus on Nette. From what Tikki told me, this kind of behavior is becoming a regular occurrence. Which would explain why she doesn’t come to school from what Agreste been explaining.” Kagami declares with a heavy sigh.

“Should we call Bourgeois and ask for her input?” Felix suggests as his body dance subconsciously with the idea of going into the bathroom.

“No, not yet. Right now, we need to focus on bettering Nette.” Luka speaks with authority.

Felix and Kagami agrees and turns back to their now sleeping friend.

~*~

A week has passed since Marinette’s breakdown. Kagami refuses to let the bluenette be alone, so she offered her place. Marinette at first refused, but after a long talk with Felix, Kagami, Luka, and their kwamis, it was decided that she would stay.

As the days went by, the three friends to could a change in their beloved bluenette. She’s eating more and getting a good amount of sleep. Granted, there were akuma attacks during some of those days and if it wasn’t an akuma, it was Lila’s lying her way out of any situation.

Heal is always the hard part; as much as Marinette wanted to move on from this, she knows that it will only stop when Lila’s luck runs out.

Sitting down at the Ladybug and Chat Noir theme café, Marinette silently sips her coffee. The owner makes her way over to the teen and offers her another round. Marinette declines and apologizes for all the pain and concern she caused the older woman. To which the owner denies and told her that she reminds her of her own granddaughter that was bullied when her daughter and husband were living in Italy.

“I’m so sorry, what happened to your granddaughter?” Marinette asks, secreting cringing at such a question.

The owner answers with a sad sigh, “She nearly killed herself, if it wasn’t for the pets, she wouldn’t be here. Today, she’s following her dream by attending a private school across sees. You two would have gotten along very well if she was here.”

Marinette smiles, “I’m glad that she’s alright.” She replies, but the lingering thought of death managed to sneak up into her mind. Perhaps, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my friends. Shaking her head, she focuses on her coffee.

“If you need to talk, I’m always here.” The owner quickly gestures to the café before returning to the counter to take the orders of new customers.

Marinette finishes her coffee and exits the café.

“So, this is where you sneak off to.” Felix notes with Luka and Kagami behind him.

“What are you guys doing here?” Marinette asks, hugging the blonde before the two dark hairs.

“Well classes got out early and we wanted to spend the rest of the day with you,” Kagami answers pushing a strand of hair behind Marinette’s ear.

Marinette rolls her eyes, “Well the day is still bright and I’m feeling rather famished.”

The small group of friends laughs at the grumbling sound of Marinette’s stomach.

All it takes is for one grand action to make someone feel loved in their darkest moments.

Part 2

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #luka couffaine #ml felix #marinette deserves better #edits will come later #can you guess the ship?

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emybain · 5 years

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Iconic Day in Press History

I saw a post last night before going to bed about nova and Adrian getting engaged (I cant remember the post for the life of me but I know the topic has been discussed before so) and the wheels in my head started turning while I was trying to sleep, so I told myself I would write it first thing in the morning. I get the vibes that if nodrian decided to get married after Supernova, they would take their sweet time and not care that the press and the media were on their knees begging for the “power couple of the world” to tie the knot. Nova especially would enjoy messing with the paparazzi just bc she hates all the attention and would eventually just be like “fine. if you take pictures of me then they’ll be what I want them to be” and do a lot of things out of spite, such as her and adrian getting engaged. plus, they wouldn’t tell anyone other than their friends and family bc its a private matter, leaving the media scrambling for answers. anyway, yeah this is bad and rushed, but I dont really care; hopefully yall get the point *peace sign*

SPOILERS FOR SUPERNOVA

The most memorable day in press history around the world was when Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden, two members of the famed Renegades, announced their marriage to the public. Despite the world being in a global Age of Anarchy, the marriage promised hope for the future and gave many people courage. Right behind it, the second most memorable day was when the couple announced they were adopting the son of the late Lady Indomitable, Adrian Rawles, soon to be Adrian Everhart. The world was touched by this act, seeing that it proved coming together and helping one another in dark times was better than the Anarchist ideology of acting selfishly.

Despite the significance of these events, they were both knocked down nearly twenty years after the end of the Age of Anarchy when it was discovered that none other than Adrian Everhart, former Renegade, and Nova Artino, former Anarchist-turned-hero, were engaged to be married.

The press had a field day, to say the least. For years, they had hounded Gatlon’s, and the world’s, for that matter, power couple about tying the knot. Their union would be a symbolic event in the history of the world; it would be further proof that love conquered all hate. But, the couple seemed unbothered by the media’s many futile attempts at getting one to propose to the other. Every year, there was always a tabloid declaring the two had finally gotten engaged, even going as far as including a heavily photoshopped image of the two posed together, a gleaming ring on Miss Artino’s finger. Other tabloids wailed their desires for them to be wedded, fantasizing how the wedding would be and what the bride would wear on her special day. Four years before, they had watched as two other heroes and friends of the couple, Oscar Silva and Ruby Tucker, walked down the aisle together. They had hoped this wedding would have a domino effect, pushing couples around the world to do the same, especially one of the couples closest to the husband and wife. While there was a global spike in weddings that year, the one wedding everyone had been anticipating never happened.

Despite these attempts, the Everhart-Artino duo never announced they were getting married. Maybe they had already tied the knot in secret; the tabloids discussed this as a possibility for some time. Maybe they were only staying together for the public image and they really couldn’t stand one another; this was also speculated, but it was scoffed at by readers because there was no way it could be true. Everyone had seen the couple together, and not even the best actors in the world could convey that much love and affection for another person and it not be real. They were an inseparable match, made by the universe specifically for one another. They gave some the idea that soulmates did in fact exist. There was no doubt that they were in love, and that they would be in love for as long as they both lived.

So when, the press questioned, was the wedding?

When the young Everhart turned twenty-five, and then Artino twenty-four, the press finally gave up all attempts at getting the couple to wed. They came to the conclusion that the couple, at this point, was not getting married out of spite to everyone pressuring them into it. It wouldn’t surprise the press if that were true; many headliners from the past were of the couple being silly or messing with the media. One time, Nova Artino had jokingly flipped off a group of photographers while she was at lunch with her boyfriend, scrunching her face up until it was comical. Another time, she showed off a ring-less finger to the paparazzi as the couple was out for a stroll, faking a shocked face. And once, the couple posed with a magazine that had their faces on the cover, the headlining statement “GATLON’S SWEETHEARTS BROKEN UP?” and made goofy faces at the photographer that captured them. Eventually, the press took the hint and stopped all talk about their marriage.

At least until Nova Artino, now twenty-five, was seen out and about on her motorcycle with her close friend Danna Bell. The paparazzi treated it as another normal occurrence and started photographing them for the media outlets. All was well until Artino removed her gloves, showing off a jewel on her left ring finger that was most certainly new. The media hadn’t heard much from the power couple in a while, so seeing this sent a shockwave through every outlet around the world as photos soon circulated of the ring and what it could mean for the young individuals.

The press revived their anticipation at a potential wedding of the century; every tabloid had the ring on its cover; it was all the TV show that reported the latest celebrity gossip could talk about. There were skeptics, as there always were, who believed the ring was just another photoshopped image. They claimed the ring wasn’t big enough, that people with as much money as the Everharts didn’t purchase small rings. The fact that Artino wasn’t seen after that for weeks further strengthened the doubt that the media was right.

And then there was the annual Peace Gala, which became a tradition after the final defeat of Ace Anarchy. It was held every year to prove that the world had finally stopped fighting, that love is the greatest asset to have, and that hate has no place in the recovering world. It was always hosted by a high elected official, for after Ace Anarchy was defeated, the Renegades stepped down from power and implemented a democratic system of government. This year, it was held by the mayor of Gatlon. While mayor wasn’t a high seat in government, it was decided upon so that the gala may be held in Gatlon for the first time.

It was no small event; elected officials from around the world and well known names were invited, and it was open to the public. Full of food, music, dancing, and even fireworks, it was something people looked forward to every year. This year, perhaps more than others, for Nova Artino and Adrian Everhart were expected to be in attendance, and it would be the first time anyone would see the two since Nova’s appearance weeks prior.

So when the couple showed up, along with Everhart’s family and fellow heroes, the press nearly went wild. Sure, there would be articles about the elegant red cocktail dress Ruby Silva wore, as well as the matching red suit worn by her husband. There would be designers doting over the butterfly-inspired dress worn by Danna Bell, and even more people doting over the looks between her and her long time girlfriend, Narcissa Cronin. Journalists would write about the suspected new romance between Gatlon’s latest heartthrob and hero, Max Everhart and his friend Margaret White. But every newspaper, every magazine, every media outlet around the world would be headlining the modest band wrapped around Nova Artino’s left ring finger. Photographs would all be zoomed in on her hand curled around her fiancé’s arm.

But perhaps the best photo taken from that night would not be of the ring or of the couple kissing. No, the photo that everyone talked about and laughed at was of Nova Artino, peering over her shoulder at the lucky photographer’s camera from where she was dancing with her soon-to-be-husband. From the backless jumpsuit to the way her short hair was curled to perfection, and to the laughter in her eyes and a tiny, but smug smirk on her lips as if she were saying, “You don’t know shit,” there wasn’t a thing about the photo that the world didn’t love.

Yes, the engagement of Nova Artino and Adrian Everhart, the universal sweethearts, was perhaps the biggest moment in press history.

#supernova spoilers #nova artino #Adrian everhart #Oscar silva #ruby tucker #danna bell #anarchists #renegades #supernova #my writing #I was kinda going for some comedy in this #something a little more lighthearted #also idk what pov its from so yeah

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softsguideweb · 3 years

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Adobe Illustrator

In the event that you have chosen to learn Illustrator, you need to begin with the nuts and bolts. It's a truly incredible program, yet in addition a perplexing one. When you get comfortable with the interface, essential instruments, ranges and workspace, you will save a ton of time and nerves and your work process will appear to be smooth and lovely.

Types of Software Reviews Adobe Illustrator is a vector drawing program. It is frequently used to make logos, symbols, delineations, graphs, infographics, shirts, business cards, writing supplies, envelopes, bundling plan – and so on. All things considered, it is for the most part used to make high goal illustrations, which can later be printed too. In contrast to Photoshop, which stores picture data in spots, Illustrator utilizes numerical conditions when you draw shapes. What's that about?

Difference between System Software and Application Software

It implies that vector designs (like an Illustrator drawing) can be scaled or zoomed to any measure without losing quality, while raster pictures (like a picture altered in Photoshop) will pixelate as you scale: Alright, so you are as yet perusing this guide. That discloses to me that you truly need to draw nearer with Illustrator, so I am here to impart my insight to you. In this guide, I will acquaint you with the workspace, fundamental devices, shapes and we'll make our first logo utilizing this magnificent programming. If it's not too much trouble, note that I am utilizing Illustrator CS5 on Windows, so Mac clients should utilize somewhat unique key blends: Command key rather than Ctrl and Option rather than Alt. 2. The Illustrator Workspace Assuming you know about Photoshop, the Adobe Illustrator workspace will not shock you much, since the principle parts of it are essentially something very similar: You will fundamentally utilize the Tools board, since the entirety of the apparatuses that you need are there. To arrange a functioning device, you will utilize the Control board, where all alternatives for the current device are kept. Furthermore, obviously, the board docking zone – it keeps such significant ranges as Color Swatches, Layers, Stroke choices, Appearance, Gradient settings, and so on (everything ranges can be turned on or off in Windows menu). How about we look at the Tools board first. 2.1 Tools Panel There are numerous instruments accessible in the tool compartment, yet you don't need to remember everything. Only a couple of them will do the work. Here's a reference table (a few devices, similar to Rectangle, contain more instruments inside, which can be chosen by holding the apparatus symbol): I generally say that the most ideal method of learning is rehearsing. Along these lines, how about we gain proficiency with the essential instruments by really utilizing them. 3. Making a Logo in Illustrator I generally use Adobe Illustrator to make logos for my customers. For what reason don't we attempt one? How about we call our magnificent organization LimeWorks. We'll have to make a lime and put the name under it. Like this: Remember however, that we will make a straightforward logo, to make sure you get comfortable for certain instruments and strategies. How about we start with drawing lime sections. 3.1 Using Pen Tool We'll utilize the Pen apparatus, which is quite possibly the most utilized devices in Illustrator. It is utilized to make a wide range of shapes and articles. Select it by tapping on its symbol from the tool stash or utilize the P key. Utilizing the Pen apparatus, make your first triangle by clicking multiple times where you need the edges to be: Note: as you see, I use Grid (Ctrl+) to be more exact. To close the way, click on the main point: Presently it is fit to be loaded up with a tone. Ensure the triangle is chosen (click on it with Selection instrument, V) and pick a yellow tone: 3.2 Making Round Corners We need round corners to make our lime section (triangle) look smoother. We'll utilize the Round Corners impact: In the Round Corners discourse box, put something like 4 mm (I use millimeters as units) and snap OK to apply changes: Looks great. Presently we should add some surface, so it looks more sensible. 3.3 Adding Photoshop Effects In Adobe Illustrator, when you go to the Effects menu, you will see that there are Illustrator Effects and Photoshop Effects: We will utilize Stained Glass (Effects->Texture->Stained Glass). Yet, before that, we need a duplicate of our triangle over the first layer. 3.4 Copying Objects I'll show you some brisk tips on the most proficient method to effortlessly reorder objects over the current layer and beneath, while keeping the specific position. To glue a duplicate of a chose object over the first one in the specific position, first duplicate it (Ctrl+C) and afterward glue it utilizing Ctrl+F (in the event that you use Ctrl+V it will glue it in the screen). To glue it underneath the first item use Ctrl+B: Alright, so now you know the duplicate/glue stunts. Reorder our triangle directly before itself (Ctrl+F), and fill the stuck article with white tone: Open the Stained Glass discourse box and set as mine (Cell size=17; Border thickness=2; Light intensity=0): 3.5 Expand Appearance Extend Appearance is situated in the Object menu and is perhaps the main apparatuses in Illustrator. It might require a different manual for depict in detail, yet today we are just learning the essentials.

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kusada28-blog · 4 years

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Memories From Childhood

When I was a kid, I believed that Santa Claus was real. Like many other kids at that age, I thought that I would be rewarded with special gifts and presents if I was well behaved and did whatever my parents and teachers told me to do. After watching films such as Elf and Polar Express, my belief in Santa was reinforced even more. My parents knew of my faith in Santa and did everything in their power to allow me to continue believing in Saint Nicholas. Every Christmas, numerous presents wrapped in different colours of paper would be set beneath our beautiful Christmas tree. The cookies and milk I would leave out the night before would be gone, replaced with a thank you note.

However, that would all change during one fateful midnight on Christmas. Even though I was always a staunch believer in Santa, I never actually snuck out of bed and attempted to catch him while he was delivering his presents. For some reason, I decided to catch him red-handed one year when I had just turned seven. After I set some cookies and a glass of milk on the kitchen table as usual, I bid my parents goodnight and went into my room. Instead of sleeping, however, I laid in bed awake and counted down the minutes until midnight. It felt like I had waited for years before my clock finally read December 25, and I slowly crept out from under the comforts of my blankets and quietly opened my bedroom door.

As I made my way downstairs, I saw that the lights in the living room were turned on. I continued to tiptoe towards the source of the light and suddenly heard two voices whispering to one another. To my confusion, I realized that my parents were the ones who were speaking. I entered the living room to ask why they were still up and that’s when my entire world was flipped on its head. To my horror, I saw my mum laying presents beneath the tree while my dad was lazily snacking on the cookies I had put on the table. As I entered the room, they both froze in shock. In that moment, I was more confused than anything else; why would my parents be doing Santa’s job for him? My mum was quick on her feet and explained that Santa was late on his deliveries and gave them my presents to set up. She then ushered me back to bed while my dad was still frozen, a cookie dangling from his lips.

I laid awake for the rest of that night thinking about the events that had just transpired. The more I thought about it, the closer I came to realizing the truth about Santa. Was it just a coincidence that the thank you notes I received every year heavily resembled my dad’s handwriting? Or the fact that I always got presents that I told my parents I wanted? By the time I got out of bed the next morning, my belief in Santa had been shattered. Instead of feeling disappointed, however, I felt grateful towards my parents for doing their best to allow me to continue believing in Saint Nicholas. To this day, I still prepare cookies and a glass of milk on Christmas Eve while my parents presumably lays out the presents at midnight. Even though we all remember what happened that day and haven’t brought it up since, we still continue to do this as a family tradition.

When I was a kid, I believed in urban legends such as Slender Man. I first discovered Slender Man on Youtube and instantly became addicted to researching more about its backstory. As I dove deeper into the supposed “sightings” and stories about Slender Man, I also became scared that he was going to come and take me away, like so many stories that I read online. I became paranoid to the point that I would be afraid to walk to and from school, even though I lived a mere five minutes away. During the nighttime, I would close all the windows in my house and shut the blinds of my room because that gave me a false sense of safety and security.

My fear of Slender Man reached a point where I started to leave my bedroom door open at night since that would give my parents a better chance of hearing my cries for help if he ever did come for me. I’m not afraid to admit that there were times when I ran into my parents’ room and crawled between them to sleep after lying awake for hours on end thinking of all the ways that I could end up in one of the many arms of Slender Man.

My paranoia reached a boiling point when I watched a Youtube video talking about how having dreams and nightmares about Slender Man means that you’ve formed a connection with him and he’ll be coming to take you away. This made me go into full-on panic mode since I had constant nightmares about that exact scenario, so I felt like my days were numbered at that point. I pretended to be sick for days after this revelation so that I didn’t have to leave the house and put myself at risk in public. Looking back, this now seems like a foolish plan since I was home alone for most of the time while my parents went to work.

After not going to school for almost an entire week, a friend of mine came to visit me to see how I was doing. I secretly confessed to him about what I was doing and he gave me a dumbfounded look before bursting into laughter. He told me that Slender Man was created during a photoshop contest and that everything about him was false. I went online and did some more research about Slender Man’s origins and found that my friend was right. Nevertheless, this still didn’t completely quell my fear, since all the videos and stories that I saw during that time was enough to convince me that the existence of Slender Man was still very much a possibility.

However, my fear of the urban legend was reduced significantly. I began to think less about Slender Man and eventually stopped being afraid of him entirely. After a few weeks, I revisited some of the old videos and stories that I saw online and began noticing things that didn’t quite add up and further confirmed that the whole thing was a hoax. I often wonder what would’ve happened if my friend never told me about how the legend was created. I’m glad that I don’t live in constant fear anymore, but at the same time, a certain thrill also seems absent from my life.

When I was a kid, I believed that Star Wars was real. I remember my dad sitting me down when I was four and showing me every film from both the original and prequel trilogies. He told me about how awestruck he was after seeing A New Hope (then just titled Star Wars) for the first time in 1977. He claims to have seen it over ten times in theatres alone when it was released and said that he didn’t think anything could top that original film until both Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi came out, of course. By the time the prequels came out over a decade and a half later, my dad had already become a middle-aged man getting ready for his first child (me). However, his maturing age didn’t make him any less excited for the new trilogy. Although those films weren’t exactly what he expected, he still loves them nonetheless.

I watched the entire saga in under a week and instantly became obsessed, like my father before me. Every time I walked through automatic doors, I would wave my fingers apart and pretend like I was using the force to slide the doors open. During Halloween, I would always dress up as a character from the galaxy far, far away; from Han Solo to generic stormtroopers, it seems like I’ve pretended to be every character from the Star Wars universe. My room was filled with posters of Luke and Anakin Skywalker, and I never missed a single episode of The Clone Wars. Furthermore, I would often talk to people using quotes from the films, to both the delight and annoyance of my dad.

Since I saw the films at a very young age, I didn’t have any reason to believe that the stories were just that, stories. For a few years after I first watched the movies, I kept on waiting for a wise Jedi master similar to Yoda or Obi-wan to one day show up at my house and tell me that I’m ready to begin my Jedi training. When that dream failed to materialize after a couple years, I slowly started to accept the reality that my favourite film franchise was mere fiction. Although this disappointed me greatly, I never lost my love for Star Wars. The movies will always hold a special place in my heart since they provide me with a sense of nostalgia every time I watch them. Moreover, the films have kept the bond between my father and me as strong as ever. We will always remember that family is the most important thing in life, which also happens to be the core theme of Star Wars.

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babygirlgalitzine · 7 years

Text

acting

Honestly I have no clue where this came from but I’ve been writing it for a while and Fake Dating is my favourite AU of all time so it does fit with day 7.

They don’t know how they ended up here. Honestly. But somehow, a simple comment in a televised interview had made social media blow up within seconds, “Aaron and Robert” trending almost instantly worldwide. Next days’ magazines and newspapers had headlines consisting of “Sugden and Dingle- the hottest new couple?”

Robert sighed as he flicked through his phone. “Spam…definite no to that interview. HE SAID WHAT?!” He frantically clicked a link on an email he had just received from his representative, explaining that Aaron Dingle had mentioned him in his latest interview and people were bombarding her with questions concerning Britain’s hottest new couple.

“Aaron Dingle Confirms New Romance?” the headline had read, with a botched Photoshop edit of two relatively new press released photos of Aaron and Robert. “In a recent interview, actor Aaron Dingle may or may not have confirmed he is in a relationship with rival actor, Robert Sugden. Speaking in his interview, Dingle, 26, joked about the rivalry between the pair, stating ‘No, there’s no bad blood there at all. Rob’s a great lad and we get on quite well. He’s a good looking lad, no wonder he gets all the girls screaming over him, I feel like that when I see him too.’ This comes after last month’s revelation from Mr Dingle that he is, in fact, gay. With Mr Sugden already out as bisexual, could this be their confirmation that they are a couple?”

Robert rolled his eyes before responding to Cindy, his representative, to deny all rumours that he and Aaron are an item, seething at the thought of it. He had been asked questions about Aaron throughout his career, the both of them starting their career at roughly the same time, in rival shows and only ever seeing each other at award shows.

People had quickly become attracted to the thought of them being together, fan accounts set up for the pair of them, coining the name ‘Robron’: something the press had picked up on after Aaron’s interview. They both knew how people felt about them but even when they both got questioned on it in interviews, they quashed rumours straight away.

When Aaron came out as gay, rumours became strife again, the public and press all just assuming that he must be in a serious relationship for him to come out at this stage in his career, having just released his second film which was the most anticipated film of the year. They both understood how difficult it is to come out in the industry they’re in, Robert having come out as bisexual just over five years ago, after he was pictured falling out of a nightclub with a random man and kissing in the middle of the street.

Aaron’s phone buzzed on the arm of the chair he was sat in. A Twitter notification. Mentioned by @Robert_Sugden: @AaronDingle so when were you planning on telling me you fancied me?

Aaron snorted in response, shaking his head in utter disbelief. He knew exactly why Robert was doing this publicly. He wanted a reaction from everyone. Aaron decided to reply back, tweeting Always fancied ya sweetcheeks. Text me anyway.

He wasn’t sure why he asked Robert to text him, but they had each other’s numbers from right back in the start of their career. They’d probably exchanged a few texts between them, mainly just about certain roles they were playing throughout the years they’d known each other.

He chuckled at the replies growing in the hundreds by the second, suddenly nervous at the prospect of Robert actually texting him. He decided to go off the Twitter app and focused on the script he was flicking through originally, before his phone buzzed five minutes later, the name Robert Sugden lighting up the screen. Hi, it’s Robert was the text. Aaron responded with Yeah I know, idiot. I’ve got your number.

Robert rolled his eyes at Aaron’s response. If he knew one thing about him, it was that Aaron was known for being sarcastic at times. They exchanged more texts, mainly just talking about the interview and the scripts both of them were flicking through. They talked for hours, never short of anything to say and it never become awkward. Robert had moved from his lounge to his bed in the time they were talking, not mentioning to Aaron, but Robert knew he’d moved because at one point he has spent quite a few words wrong before apologising saying Sorry, I just moved.

He didn’t know when exactly, but Robert must have fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning because he was led with his pillow upright and his phone next to his head, the battery almost dead. He plugged it in to charge before looking at his texts, not remembering the last thing he and Aaron said. I guess you’ve fallen asleep? Night was the last text from Aaron after he hadn’t responded to a question sent just thirteen minutes before at 03:07. Robert quickly answered the question and admitted that he did fall asleep before he collapsed his heavy head on the white pillow, sighing at the events of the day before.

Aaron woke up to his phone buzzing on his bedside table. His eyes flicked over to the clock and saw that it was almost midday. He picked up his phone, fully expecting it to be a missed call from his agent who needed Aaron to confirm whether or not he was interested in his recent script. Instead, it was a text from Robert. Aaron groaned before responding with morning and pulled his quilt away from his body and leaving the bed. He’d been up until the early hours of the morning texting Robert, the two of them catching up like they were a couple of school friends who hadn’t seen each other for years. At one point, Robert had stopped responding and because it was quite late, or rather, early, Aaron decided that he must have fallen asleep. Aaron tried to sleep after that, he really did. But he tossed and turned for almost an hour, being too hot sometimes and then too cold. He couldn’t sleep with his elasticated bottom of his trackies halfway up his leg and no matter how many times he shoved it back down with his big toe, they always seemed to ride back up. It resulted in him sleeping in only his boxers, one leg under the quilt with the other one out, pillows shoved to his face and the mattress cover bunched up in the middle of the bed.

“I’m just saying, we need to hurry up with confirming this role. Robert! If you take this role, they need to cast the love interest straight away and they’ve got a rough idea on who they want, but they aren’t budging until you do.” Michael, Robert’s agent ranted as they both walked through the offices.

Robert stopped in his tracks and turned to face Michael, “Who are they casting?” He asked.

Michael looked down at the papers in his hand, red suddenly covering his face. “We-well nothing’s been confirmed yet but it’s looking likely to be Aaron. Aaron Dingle.”

That shut Robert up. He grabbed the papers out of his agent’s hands and pinched the ballpoint pen that was balancing in between Michael’s right ear and the side of his head. Robert quickly skimmed the terms and conditions of the contract before scrawling R. Sugden.

He was now signed up to do the film. With Aaron.

The news spread quickly that Robert was tipped to do the film. Of course, this meant that rumour mill had started spinning because it was also in the public domain that Aaron had been interested in the same film for the past couple of weeks.

Aaron turned through the channels on his TV screen just moments after confirming his role in a new film. He wasn’t really focused on what was going on, he just continued pressing the ‘next channel’ button as he stared absent mindedly at the colours flicking. “Could rumoured couple Robert Sugden and Aaron Dingle be on their way to becoming work colleagues at last?” The news presenter asked, looking directly down the camera. That caught Aaron’s attention. “It has come to light just moments ago that both Dingle and Sugden have signed their contracts for what’s rumoured to become the biggest blockbuster of the decade. We sat down with the director just weeks ago when speculation was strife about the love interests in this new movie and he told us that the love interest is definitely going to be a same sex couple. With this fact, and the news that both Aaron Dingle and Robert Sugden have agreed to a contract, could they be that same sex couple?”

Aaron stared at the screen, long after the report had ended. He was in a state of shock. Him and Robert had never worked together, they’d never really been together alone, only ever seeing each other at award shows and after parties. He texted his agent and asked if it was true that he and Robert were going to be working alongside each other. Not even five minutes he got a response, confirming that they were, indeed, going to be filming as each other’s love interest.

So I suppose we’re working together. Aaron had texted Robert later that night. Seems like it was the response he received. Somehow, half an hour later, Robert was sat in his car, driving following the instructions on his satnav. They had the brilliant idea of spending some time together, away from any colleagues or press, so Robert had offered to drive to Aaron’s house, right there and then. He pulled into the driveway and quickly got out, turning to face where he had just come from, checking to see if anyone had followed him. He couldn’t risk being seen going into Aaron’s house, not with all the rumours flying about.

He rang the doorbell and heard a voice from inside shout “It’s open!” Aaron.

Robert chuckled under his breath and stepped into Aaron’s house.

The first thing Robert noticed was how homely it was. He had family photos on the wall leading up the stairs, and a very distinct smell of cinnamon and orange. He noticed that he had a cabinet in his lounge, and upon it, various statues he had won over his career. Robert looked around, spotting a pair of old trainers placed sloppily next to the door. Looking up, he saw Aaron stood holding an Xbox control.

“Hey.” Robert said first, nodding at him.

Aaron looked at him, biting his lip before asking, “Wanna play? I’ll go and get us some beers, you choose the game.”

Robert took the control and sat down in front of the TV, stealing a glance at Aaron as he walked away. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, a pair of light wash joggers and navy hoodie. Robert suddenly felt over dressed in his shirt and jeans.

“Thanks.” Robert said as Aaron held out a can of lager for him.

They spent over an hour chatting to each other about anything and everything, arguing over FIFA because Aaron was convinced that Robert used a cheat on him, but really Aaron just wasn’t that great. At one point, Robert had got wound up because Aaron deliberately got one of his players sent off so he ended up nudging Aaron, Aaron then overdramatically fell to his side. They acted as though this wasn’t the first time they spent quality time with each other. It just felt natural.

Somehow, they’d ended up putting on a boxset and ordering in a Chinese, and before long they’d got to the end of the boxset in the early hours of the morning. Robert could feel his eyes drooping as he stood up to drive back home, but Aaron must have seen how tired he was,

“Stay over, I’ve got a spare bed you can use.” Aaron said, packing the empty beer cans in a bag.

Robert looked at him and yawned. Aaron continued, “You’re shattered! And I’m definitely not having your death on my conscience if you fall asleep at the wheel. Just stay over in the spare room and you can leave tomorrow.”

Robert finally agreed and Aaron showed him where the bedroom was.

The next morning, Robert woke up to the strong smell of bacon and coffee coming from downstairs. He padded across the hallway and down the stairs, trying to remember the layout of Aaron’s house. Walking into the kitchen, he saw Aaron leaning against the worktop, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands while he fried some bacon. Robert sat down on one of the seats, pulling his shirt down a little to cover his boxers.

“Some of that for me?” Robert teased, his head nodding towards the frying pan.

Aaron gulped his coffee and nodded. “Yeah, ‘was gonna bring it up to you but I didn’t know if you liked tea or coffee.

“Tea please. 2 sugars and milk.”

Aaron nodded and flicked the kettle on, before pulling out another mug and some milk from the fridge. Robert watched as Aaron moved around, shirtless and only in a pair of football shorts. He looked good, great even. He was muscular, worked out a lot evidently. His shoulders were broad, and his arms looked almost comforting. “Ta.” Robert said, his throat dry as Aaron passed him his now made tea. “Mm, I should probably get going soon, I’ve got a meeting.”

Aaron nodded, before pulling the toast out of the toaster and putting the bacon on it. “Yeah, just stay for this and then you can go. Don’t want you driving on an empty stomach, do we?”

Dirty Stop-Out Sugden: Robert Sugden pictured leaving Aaron Dingle’s home. They’d been spotted. The paparazzi had photos of Robert walking into Aaron’s home the evening before and then again in the late morning, his hair dishevelled and in a top of Aaron’s. “Actor Robert Sugden was pictured going into, and then leaving, rumoured boyfriend Aaron Dingle’s home. He entered the property just after 7pm on Friday night and left just before 11am on Saturday morning. News also came out on Friday that both Dingle and Sugden will be co-stars in an upcoming film for the first time.”

Robert rolled his eyes as he saw the news pop up in his Twitter mentions constantly. He was waiting outside the meeting room, now changed into a suit to seem more presentable. “Nice to see you wearing your own clothes and not your boyfriends.” Cindy had commented as she opened the door for Robert to enter.

“Oh not you as well! I was in the spare bedroom!” Robert exasperated, clearly annoyed with all the new rumours.

Cindy chuckled as she sat down next to him, “Yeah but I know you Robert. And I also know that Aaron is definitely your type. You should go for it!”

Robert snorts and begins to look at the sheets of paper that were laid out in front of him on the table before his phone buzzed in his pocket. Have fun at your meeting, boyfriend😉 “I hate him, I actually hate him” Robert thought as he smirked at the message on his lockscreen.

Think we should just tell people now, boyfriend😉 Robert responded when the rest of the people came in to discuss the already signed contract, talking about when filming would start and what to tell the press in any interviews. Half an hour later and Robert was fully informed and ready to drive home. Before he left the building, he checked his phone again and it was full of notifications from his emails and Twitter. “Aaron, you bastard.” He muttered under his breath as he opened Twitter to see a post from Aaron. @AaronDingle: would love to finally announce that me and @Robert_Sugden are official. We wanted to keep it a secret but now its all out

Robert played along and retweeted it, sending Aaron a heart emoji.

The tweets blew up straight away, retweets and likes going up in their hundreds every second. New outlets rushed to get their stories out first. Both Robert and Aaron got multiple calls and emails, all of them from their agents, wanting them to talk to them first before speaking to any press.

Robert found a photo he took the night before, the two of them sat eating a Chinese whilst playing FIFA. Aaron had his hoodie up, covering his fluffy hair, a huge smile on his face, showing off his chow mein. Robert was in the front of the photo, laughing at Aaron’s reaction to it being taken. He posted it to Twitter, tagging Aaron in it before driving home.

By the time Robert had gone home, his and Aaron’s tweets had reached half a million retweets, and their names were trending worldwide with links to hundreds of news articles all claiming they’ve spoken to them. Aaron rang him. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done this?” Aaron almost questioned.

Robert unlocked his front door and chucked his script on the table, alongside his keys. “No, maybe not. But it is fun.”

Aaron sighed down the phone before admitting that it was. “Anyway, you can come around to mine if you want? I’ve got the script to look at and we should probably read through it properly because we start filming in two weeks.” Robert gushed out, toeing off his shoes and undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“Yeah, alright then.” Aaron said before the two of them put the phone down.

Robert rushed upstairs, pulling out some joggers of his own and the top of Aaron’s he borrowed. He downloaded a few films onto his TV and put two copies of the script on to his coffee table and waited for Aaron whilst scrolling through his phone.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at Robert’s door. He walked to it, opened it up and moved to the side so Aaron could walk in. “I’ve brought some beers.” Aaron announced, holding a pack up.

“Oh, nice one! I completely forgot about that to be honest.” Robert admitted as he let Aaron walk deeper into his house.

“Is this the script?” Aaron shouted from the room he just walked into. Robert followed him and put his phone in his pocket.

Robert nodded, “Yeah, I picked up two so you can have this one until you get your own.”

Aaron picked it up and flicked through the pages. He only got a sample script before signing the contract so he didn’t get to see his role completely. Part way through looking his eyebrows shot up and Robert chuckled at his reaction. “So we are love interests then?” Aaron asked.

Robert nodded, “Seems that way. Probably makes sense for us to be dating then, ey?”

Aaron sat down, laughing. “Oh c’mon!” He sighed. “It’s a bit of fun. Nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

Opening a beer, Robert sunk further into his sofa. “S’pose not.” He shrugged. “Still can’t believe we’ve done it though. When people find out we’re going to be hated.”

Aaron opened his own beer now, script balanced on his knees. “They won’t find out! Just carry this on for a bit and then we can eventually say we broke up.” He said as he continued to look at the script. “Oh and we have to kiss. Well that’s gonna make people cry.”

Robert laughed as he looked at his own script.

By the time Aaron left Robert’s house, they had gone through some of their parts together and managed to watch the first Harry Potter. Aaron also decided that they should post another photo of the two of them, so Robert took a photo on Aaron’s phone, where Aaron was slung over Robert’s shoulder, kissing his cheek while Robert smiled at the camera.

“Rob, you’re needed on set.” Aaron said has he walked into his own dressing room, not even shocked to find Robert sat in a chair, with his legs up on the table. It had been three months since Aaron had announced to the world that he and Robert were together and now they were working on their first joint film. The public were none the wiser that they weren’t actually together, both of them getting closer as time went by so people saw them in the streets together.

“Yup, I know. I’ll go now.” Robert said, groaning as he stood up.

Aaron sniggered. “Old man.”

Robert’s head whipped around straight away and he pointed his finger at Aaron, “Shut it, you, or I’ll take back what I’ve left on your desk.” He walked out of the room, softly shutting the door and Aaron could hear his heavy footsteps walking up the corridor.

Aaron rolled his eyes and sat where Robert was just moments before. He picked up his phone that was put on his desk, groaning in annoyance about his smashed screen that he hasn’t found time to fix yet. Next to his phone was a closed box of Malteasers, a pack that was definitely not there when he left the room a few hours prior. That must have been what Robert was talking about, Aaron thought as he opened them up. Except, underneath the box was a piece of lined paper that looked as though it had been ripped out of a notebook. It had been folded up, hiding the message that read: Aaron, meet me at The Dorchester, 6pm tonight -Robert x

He grabbed his phone, checking the time. 3pm. He had three hours to find a suit and get to the hotel. Quickly pocketing his phone and grabbing his script, he made his way out of the room and down the corridor, ready to sign out and drive home. Robert’s just lucky that Aaron had finished for the day, otherwise he’d be getting stood up.

It took him just over twenty minutes to get home, his brain ticking on all the suits he could possibly wear. In the end, he decided to go for a tight fitted black suit with a bright white shirt. He jumped into the shower and then stood in front of his bathroom mirror with the towel wrapped around his waist and did his hair. As he was applying a bit of gel to his hair, he heard his phone chime from his bedroom. He ran in, his hand clenched around the towel making sure that it didn’t fall down. He took his phone out of charge, smiling as he saw the text from Robert.

Hey, just checking in to see if we’re on for tonight? don’t want to get stood up x

Like he’d turn him down.

Yeah, i’m getting ready now x Aaron responded before he went back into the bathroom and finished his hair.

By the time he had got dressed, he hadn’t noticed his phone going off again with a text from Robert.

Show me what you’re wearing tonight x

Aaron didn’t know exactly when they both started signing their texts off with kisses, but he knew it had been going on for a while by the looks of his messages as he scrolled up.

You’ll see x Aaron texted back before getting into his car and driving.

Aaron pulled up his car to see Robert leant against his own car, his leg bent at the knee and his foot balanced on the wheel. “Hey.” Aaron shouted out as he locked his car.

Robert straightened up as soon as he heard Aaron’s voice, putting his phone in his pocket and stroking his lapels. He looked up at Aaron as he neared and his eyes scanned his body. Wow. “You look…amazing.” Robert told Aaron, his eyes trailing back up his body to look into his eyes.

Aaron blushed and returned the compliment before they walked in to the restaurant part of the hotel.

“Ah, Mr Sugden, Mr Dingle!” The maitre d’ enthused as they walked through the door. “So delighted you chose to come here for your meal! As discussed on the phone, Mr Sugden, we will place you towards the back of the restaurant in a secluded spot.”

Robert nodded and thanked him, shocking Aaron by grabbing hold of his hand and entwining their fingers together, pulling slightly to get Aaron to move. People looked up from their tables to see the two men walking to their own table.

“See anything you fancy?” Aaron asked as he peeped over his menu.

Robert pulled his own menu down, looking at Aaron. “You?” He cheekily replied.

Aaron’s cheeks visibly pinkened before Robert spoke again, “Actually, the lobster sounds nice.”

Aaron nodded and looked back at his menu before finding the sea bass and pointing it out to Robert, waiting for him to look up at him. “Rob,” Aaron whispered. “This looks good. Can I get it?”

Robert looked up at his date and said “Yeah, get whatever you want, it’s all on me.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can pay myself, y’know?” Aaron stated.

“Yeah,” Robert started, “I know. But I was the one who asked you here so I want to be the one to spoil you. So choose whatever you want and I’ll buy it.”

Aaron smirked, folded the menu and placed it onto the table. He crossed his arms and stared at Robert, who’s eyes were still scanning the menu. “I can feel you watching me.” Robert said without even looking up.

“Yeah well maybe I fancy you too.” Aaron flirted.

Robert really did look gorgeous. He had left his hair flat as he knew that Aaron liked the softness of it and he was wearing a navy suit with a slightly paler blue shirt. His skin was pale, showing off his darkest freckles and if Aaron looked closely enough, he could see the lightest ones scattered across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

“So is this you flirting with me for the fun of it, or do you genuinely fancy me?” Robert asked, clearly interested in the answer. He put the menu down onto the table, copying Aaron’s position and looking directly into his eyes.

Aaron shrugged before laughing, his eyes lighting up. “No, I genuinely like you Robert. Shocking, innit?”

Robert reached over and put his hand on Aaron’s, stroking his knuckles softly. “I like you too.”

The rest of the meal ran smoothly, the food being exceptional, but they expected that with the restaurant having three Michelin stars. Robert didn’t want to let go of Aaron’s hand, even though he had to for them to be able to eat. Instead, Aaron took the initiative to link their legs together under the table, so throughout the meal, Aaron foot run up and down Robert’s calf, their other legs with their ankles linked together. Robert appreciated the touch, it made him feel like Aaron wasn’t ashamed to be with Robert.

Aaron leaned against his car, waiting for Robert to finish signing an autograph for the waiter, something that Aaron had already done whilst Robert was in the bathroom. When Robert came out, he walked straight over to Aaron and held onto his waist. “Good date?” Robert asked.

Aaron looked down between the pair of them, their stomachs practically touching as Robert ran his hands up and down Aaron’s sides. “Yeah. It was the best.” Aaron confirmed.

He doesn’t think he’d ever seen Robert smile so bright. His cheeks must have ached at the reaction, his grin all teeth and his eyes crinkling at the side. “So, as I did so well at our first date, can I steal a kiss from you?” Robert asked cheekily.

“Oh, I dunno.” Aaron flirted as he pushed his back further into the car, his arms coming up to hold on to Robert’s lapels.

Robert leaned in and brushed his nose against Aaron’s cheek, delicately kissing it as he moved to his lips. Robert’s own were parted, ready to kiss Aaron finally. Their breath mingled in the air as neither of them really moved closer to the other, until Robert couldn’t wait any longer and his lips wrapped around Aaron’s bottom lip, sucking on to it slightly as his hands flew up to Aaron’s neck, his fingers threading through the short hairs at the back of his head. Aaron groaned almost silently as Robert moved his lips, pushing the kiss deeper, Aaron almost breaking his back against the car. After a few more moments, Robert pulled away from the kiss, keeping his hands at Aaron’s neck, still threading through the hairs and pecked his lips once more before detaching himself completely.

“Wow.” Was all Aaron could say as his left hand came up and touched his now sore lips.

“Wow indeed.” Robert smirked as he kissed Aaron’s forehead and winked before announcing that he was going home.

When Robert did eventually get home, his phone buzzed on the dashboard of his car. He knew it was Aaron straight away so he smiled as he picked it up.

Thanks for tonight, really. Was amazing, best date i’ve ever been on xx

His head fell back onto the head rest and he smirked at the car roof before replying with You’re welcome babe, we’ll have to have another date soon xx

“And Robert, if you put your hand on his waist...yeah that’s it! Perfect!” The director yelled as he positioned Aaron and Robert for their characters on screen kiss.

They’d been working relentlessly for four hours, running over scenes that needed to be re-filmed and ones that they hadn’t yet filmed. It was tiring and the lights were starting to give Aaron a headache. After this shift, they only had two more days left on set and then it was press interviews for a few weeks, so both Robert and Aaron had been struggling to keep spirits up in a tightly packed schedule.

It had been less than a week since their date. Less than a week since their first kiss- and now their second one would be in character, in front of several cameras. Aaron- or rather- his character, smiled as he leaned forward, getting closer to Robert’s face. Their lips met and it was soft and tender, juxtaposed with Aaron’s wiry beard and Robert’s cracked lips. It wasn’t anything electric, nothing like their first kiss. It was pure, heart-warming even.

“That’s a wrap!” The director shouted. “Thanks boys, that was perfect! Only two more days to go, we’re almost there now.”

Robert smirked at Aaron, his hands still on his waist, warming Aaron’s skin up. He rubbed his hand up and down slightly, trying to not put anyone’s attention on them. “Come to my dressing room?” Robert asked softly before pulling his hand away.

Aaron nodded, not bothering to risk talking. He knew he was falling for Robert and the more time he spent with him, the more he felt like he wanted their relationship to be real. Every photo they had taken and uploaded, every video recorded of them messing around was all real on Aaron’s part. He didn’t want to share it with the world; he wanted to keep Robert to himself.

When they got to Robert’s dressing room, Robert walked in first, Aaron trailing behind him. Robert grabbed hold of Aaron’s wrist, pulling him rather harshly into the door and shutting it behind him, Aaron’s back now pressed against it. Robert smirked and his head went straight to Aaron’s neck, his mouth latching onto the skin and kissing. He mumbled against it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

Aaron leant his neck to the other side, exposing more of his skin and Robert chuckled as his kissed and nipped at his neck. Aaron could feel Robert’s breath through his nose, tickling him but also raising goosebumps. He grabbed onto Robert’s hips, pushing Robert into him until their bodies were fully touching, and Aaron’s hands moved down to rest on his arse. Robert moved his head up, breathing heavily now and pushed his lips onto Aaron’s, the younger man eliciting a loud moan. He started to roll his hips against Robert, this time Robert was the one moaning as Aaron grew more confident. Robert grounded his hips into Aaron’s, both of them moving at the same time and kissing more deeply. Aaron could feel something pool in the bottom of his stomach and he was ready to let go completely when there was a knock at the door.

“Mr Sugden, can we quickly run through the interview schedule with you?” The voice asked.

Robert pulled back from Aaron, his head tilting back in disbelief. He looked at Aaron and apologised before pecking his lips and opening the door.

“Oh, hello Mr Dingle. Well if the both of you are together I guess we can kill two birds with one stone and tell you at the same time.” The girl continued but Aaron was distracted by Robert rubbing his back in circular motions.

Robert nodded at the woman at certain point of her talking and Aaron hoped that meant he was following what she was saying because he had no clue. Robert carried on rubbing Aaron’s back, getting further down his spine and finished with his hand in his back pocket, lightly tapping and squeezing Aaron’s arse. The girl must have known something was up because Robert’s hair was all over the place and Aaron’ face was still bright red and that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

“Yeah, we’ve got it! Thanks Kelly.” Robert announced and opened the door to let her out. Once he knew she was gone, he faced Aaron and began to kiss him again, smiling into the kiss.

Aaron sat next to Robert, their bodies pressed together on the sofa. It was their sixth interview of the day and thankfully the last. This was always the most boring part of releasing movies, tediously answering the same or similar questions in every interview, trying to think of new and original answers but struggling after the first three times. Robert swore that if he got asked what superpower he’d have one more time he’d retire early. Aaron could see Robert getting progressively fed up as the day went on and he tried to keep him entertained by throwing sweets at him and making ridiculous Snapchat videos of the two of them.

As it is, the final interview was probably the best one of the whole day, the interviewer asking genuinely interesting questions about the difficulties of filming and if they’d ever want to go into directing themselves.

“I don’t think we could do an interview without asking about your relationship. So, how did the two of you get together?” The interviewer interrogated.

Aaron took the lead with this question, “Well I mentioned Robert in an interview and we basically started texting each other and chilling at each other’s houses, having mini dates in the comfort of our own home and now we’re here”

Robert slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders and pulled him into his neck, Aaron playfully rolling his eyes.

“You look so in love.” The interviewer commented and without thinking, Robert responded.

“Yeah, well I love him, don’t I?”

Aaron’s eyes went wide and his mouth parted. “Wait what?” He practically shouted.

Robert fiddled with his fingers, nervous straight away. Aaron recognised that face and attempted to resurrect his comment by saying, “Sorry, that was the first time he’s said it. But..” He nudged his nose into Robert’s cheek, “I love you too.”

“Awww.” The interviewer crooned.

Aaron slammed the car door as he sat in the drivers seat. He had driven him and Robert to the final interview because it wasn’t that far away from his house and they had had a break before it. He banged the wheel and shouted “Fuck!”

Robert tapped on the window before opened the door and sunk down into the passenger seat. “I know it was stupid for me to say that then and I really am sorry. Please just forgive me because I’m an idiot and you know it!” His voice cracked, clearly almost in tears. “I shouldn’t have said it in an interview.”

Aaron turned his body around to look at Robert, whose cheeks now had tears falling down them. He lifted his hands up and held onto Robert’s face, his thumbs stroking the tears away. “Hey, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He soothed.

“We aren’t even together, I should’ve asked you to be my boyfriend first.” Robert ranted, his voice shaky from his tears.

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, confusion flooding across his face. “You were being serious? You actually love me?” He questioned.

Robert sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. Now I’m guessing you don’t?”

“No! I mean, yeah! Yes Robert, I bloody love you! I thought you were just saying it because of where we were!” Aaron rambled, his eyes circulating Robert’s face, trying to decipher how he was feeling.

They were silent for a few moments, staring at each other before Robert grabbed Aaron’s cheeks and kissed him harshly. The kiss heated up quickly, passion rising between the two of them at their confessions. Robert somehow managed to straddle Aaron’s lap, the steering wheel digging uncomfortably into his back but he didn’t seem to care. “I love you too.” He whispered as he pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads touching. Aaron tilted his head up, trying to reach Robert’s lips once more, not wanting to part from him at all. It was Aaron who deepened the kiss this time, his tongue licking into Robert’s mouth before Robert leaned back just that little bit too much and landed on the steering wheel, letting the car horn go off. Aaron laughed into Robert’s mouth, unable to believe the fact that Robert was sat on his lap, snogging each other like horny teenagers at a party.

Robert refused to move from Aaron’s lap, sitting down properly and locking his hands together at the back of Aaron’s neck. “So, will you be my boyfriend? Officially.” Robert asked, tilting his head.

Aaron moved his hands so they were placed on Robert’s arse. “Hmm, yes!” He confirmed. He tapped Robert’s bum once and said, “Now shift, I’ll drive you home.”

Second date tonight!! You better look good x Robert texted his boyfriend the morning of the film premiere. They had decided that this would be their second date, and as neither had stayed over at the others house since they became official a week ago, they decided that Robert would pick Aaron up and they’d drive there and back together, Robert maybe staying the night.

I’ll look like shit compared to you though, everyone fancies you x Aaron responded and Robert rolled his eyes. It had been an ongoing joke that everyone fancies Robert because he’s bisexual, something that doesn’t bother Aaron at all, despite recent news articles.

A few hours later, Robert got into his car and drove to Aaron’s house, beeping his horn to let Aaron know he was there. His had parked so he was facing away from the house, so he couldn’t see Aaron locking the door and walking to the passenger seat. Neither of them knew what the other was wearing for the premiere, their suits had been picked out and tailor made for their body, tightly fitted in all the right places.

Aaron sat down in the car, chucking his wallet on the dashboard before leaning over and kissing Robert. “You look amazing.” Robert said, looking at him properly before leaning in again. He really was lucky to have Aaron.

Smiling at Robert, Aaron returned the compliments and rested his hand on Robert’s thigh as he drove off to Leicester Square. “So, are you staying over tonight?” Aaron asked, his thumb stroking the outside of Robert’s thigh.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Robert nodded, “Yeah, bags in the back. Doubt I’ll be needing any clothes though.” He flirted.

Aaron scoffed, “Oh shut up!” and looked out of the window, his hold on Robert’s leg not faltering once.

“Robert! Robert!” “Aaron! Aaron, look this way!” The lights were blinding, the camera’s flashing at what seemed a million miles an hour.

They both hated red carpet events, the screams of paparazzi’s trying to get the best photos for their articles, the interviewers pushing each other just to get the first interview, not even to mention the repeated questions and comments again.

Robert wrapped his arm around Aaron, both of them smiling in the photos. Robert muttered under his breath at one point for Aaron to look behind the cameras, at a woman stood in the crowd wearing a wedding dress, thus creating the best photo of the night, Aaron’s grin as he laughs and Robert looked at the man whose body had crumpled half its size as he laughed, Robert smiling widely too.

When it was time to walk to the interviewers, Robert and Aaron decided to split up, trying to get through as many interviews as quickly as possible with their co-stars. Unsurprisingly, many of the questions asked was about their relationship. Aaron had finished his portion of interviews before Robert, who had now joined the director and was talking about whether Robert himself would like to go into directing. He walked over to where they were being interviewed, indicating to the woman holding the microphone that he was going to scare Robert. He jumped out at him a few moments later, grabbing on to Robert’s waist to stop him from jumping and knocking anyone out. “Don’t! Do that, Aaron. You know I get scared easily you idiot.” Robert chastised Aaron before pulling him under his arm and kissing his cheek. “Just spoke about you.” Robert whispered against his skin.

“Oh yeah?” Aaron asked curiously.

“Yeah, talking about how much I love you.”

“Love you too.” Aaron replied, kissing him again before the three of them concluded the interview and walking into the theatre.

“It genuinely looked amazing though, like I wasn’t expecting the fight scenes to be like that at all.” Aaron rambled on as he opened his front door for him and Robert.

He was definitely a nerd when it came to the final products of films, mind-blown by the production and directing. It was quite endearing for Robert really, he loved to see Aaron excited by something they do as their job. But right now, he wanted Aaron upstairs, in his bed.

Robert kissed Aaron deeply, trying to get him to stop speaking but he didn’t stop instantly, still trying to finish his sentence with Robert’s lips on his. “C’mon, upstairs.” Robert muttered, grasping hold of Aaron hand and dragging him to the stairs.

They continued to kiss as they struggled to make it up the stairs. Robert was leading, mouth on Aaron, his hand pulling at Aaron’s tie as he walked backwards. When they had eventually made it into the bedroom, Aaron quickly unwrapped Robert’s tie and unbuttoned his shirt before ripping it off, the blazer still attached somehow. He kissed down Robert’s neck, pushing him towards the bed before the two of them became tangled in the quilt, moving about undressing each other completely. Robert left open kisses all over Aaron’s body, starting at his neck, going down his chest spending more time than necessary sucking and biting at his sensitive nipples before ending up at his thighs, biting a little bit harder, making Aaron moan in a way that Robert would probably never forget.

Twelve hours later they had woken up, time now way past midday and the sun beaming in through the open curtains. Aaron’s body was curled around Robert’s, their heads facing each other and Robert’s hand subconsciously stroking Aaron’s hair. Robert woke up first, his eyes opening slowly so he wouldn’t be blinded straightaway. He couldn’t move from Aaron’s hold once he had fully woken up, so he just laid there, a little bit too hot under the cover and Aaron’s overheated body. Aaron woke up around ten minutes later to Robert kissing his forehead.

“Morning.” Aaron grumbled out, morning voice making him sound like a teenager going through the change.

He rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow and groaned before stretching his body and yawning.

“Morning.” Robert whispered back, kissing Aaron softly. “Can we just stay here all day?”

Aaron smirked and nodded, “Yeah, but I’m starving and I need a piss.”

Robert’s face crunched up in mock disgust, but soon smoothed out when Aaron leaned forward and kissed him before shoving the covers off him and walking off to the bathroom. Stark naked. Robert wolf whistled at Aaron and started laughing when Aaron’s response was sticking his finger in the air.

Waiting for Aaron to return, Robert picked his phone up and put it on charge, flicking through his emails congratulating him on the premiere of the film, and links to more scripts. By the time Aaron had come back, Robert managed to send off one email and was now looking through another about the annual award show. He had been invited to it after being nominated for the award that Aaron beat him to, Best Actor. After looking at the other nominees, he noticed that Aaron wasn’t up for it, but that wasn’t surprising considering he had a year out from TV to focus on films.

“I’m up for best actor.” Robert announced as Aaron sat on his bed, holding out some toast while a piece was already stuck between his teeth.

His eyes shot open, “Wait really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of ya!” Aaron rambled.

Robert was still a little bit in shock, he hadn’t been expecting it at all. “Will you come with me?” He asked, “T-to the award show?”

Aaron nodded, “Yeah, course.”

Two months later and Aaron and Robert were donning some suits again. It was the night of the award show and Robert was nervous, having made the shortlist and was now up against only 3 people. This would be the biggest award in his career so far and he had no clue what he would do if he won it. He genuinely hadn’t let the thought cross his mind until that morning when Aaron asked him if he had sorted a speech out over breakfast.

“What, no! I won’t even win, I can’t think of anything to say!” Robert ranted.

Aaron moved closer to him and held his arms out to put his hands on either side of Robert’s face. “Hey, I believe in you. You deserve to win this, you’re amazing and you need to start believing that.”

After Aaron wasn’t nominated this time around, they decided that they’d go together and for the first time, Aaron would sit with Robert, surrounded by the cast of his show, rather than Aaron sitting with the cast from his show. They sat together, Aaron on the left of Robert, their hands holding while they drank the first pint of the night.

Robert’s award was the last to be announced, the main award that everyone wanted to take home.

“And the winner of the Best Actor 2017 is...ROBERT SUGDEN!”

The cheers around him erupted and Robert was in shock. This couldn’t be happening. No. Aaron stood up first, cheering and clapping and Robert stood up instinctively, gasping for air and putting his hands to his mouth in shock. Aaron pulled his hands away and kissed him, completely unaware of the cameras that had turned up in front of Robert, waiting for him to start walking up to the stage.

“Wow, erm. Thanks, I guess! I genuinely didn’t have a speech prepared for this because I didn’t think I’d win looking at the other nominees. This morning, my boyfriend kinda screwed it into my head that I should probably think about making one, but I was still convinced I’d lose.” Robert announced, hand wrapped around the statuette. “This is the second time I’ve been nominated for this exact award, and, well we all know how it went two years ago, don’t we Mr Dingle?” The audience laughed at his joke as the camera focused on Aaron for a moment, who was smiling wildly at his boyfriend on stage. “Anyway, I just want to say thanks to everyone at the show for giving me the opportunity to do what I love every day; it’s such a blessing to be working with you. Thanks to everybody who voted for me as well, and a special thanks to my other half, whose sitting over there,” He said as he pointed Aaron out, “you astound me every day that I’m lucky enough to spend with you by my side, you’ve helped me so much and you continue to believe in me in everything I do. I love you.”

“LOVE YOU TOO.” Aaron shouted back, making everyone around him laugh.

Four years had passed since Robert won Best Actor. It was now 2021 and Aaron and Robert had moved in together. They bought a new house, and decorated it showing both their personalities. Aaron took Robert out for a meal three years ago, in their favourite restaurant. Robert hadn’t noticed at first, but Aaron had booked the entire place out for them. Still, Robert thought nothing of it because they hadn’t seen each other for a while and sometimes Aaron liked to do romantic things like that. The only time it clicked that Aaron was proposing was when he was on one knee, holding the ring out to him. Of course, he said yes and they wed eight months later.

Their favourite memory from their relationship however, was the little baby girl now led in between them in their bed, a white dummy in her mouth and a pale pink baby-grow on her. She yawned around her dummy and the boys watched as it fell to the side of her head. Robert picked it and held it in his own mouth, both of them watching as she stuck her little tongue out. Three days before, their lives changed when their surrogate went into labour, ringing them with the good news. Annie was born six hours later, dark brown hair already curly and bright blue eyes. Robert would never forget seeing her in his husband’s arms for the first time, his daughter wrapping his entire hand around his finger. She still does that now and Robert loves it, he loves seeing his little fingers spreading out, and her even smaller fingernails. She was perfect, and they were content.

#robrondays #robroninlove #robron #day 7: favourite au #FINISHED

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