#perhaps I will take my friend up on her offer to get me a fake

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Totally fake | Ant x Reader (Heartbreak High)

Fake dating, fem!reader A/N: it’s been a while since I watched s1 so forgive me if the timeline is a little wonky. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You had no idea how you got yourself in this… situation. In this mess, honestly. Thanks to Amerie, the whole school life had imploded. Thanks a lot, Map Bitch. Now here you were, standing next to her trying to get a ticket for the party as Ant told her about how his mom reacted to the whole Darren wristy thing. Your face twinged up in sympathy. Somehow Quinni and Darren had adopted Amerie into your friendgroup after the whole thing, so here you were, supporting your new friend. Well, it was more like she dragged you along. Moral support or something. Ant ended up telling Ams to go ask Spider and she trudged away disappointed, but you stayed, hesitating. “Um, I’m sorry about your mom.” You offered. What a stupid thing to say, you cursed yourself. Boys made you nervous. “Yeah, it really sucks. I love Jesus and all but going to church 3 more times a week is reaaaaally boring.” He groaned. You began walking to your next class together. “Um.” You started talking before you could think. You were a fixer, it was a whole thing. A pathological need to fix things, which is why you couldn’t really be against Quinni and Darren taking Amerie in, you wanted to help fix this. But sometimes in your need to fix things you went a little overboard. You realized that that was what you were doing after you had already started talking, and now you didn’t know what to say. But being quiet now was also embarrassing. “What’s up?” Ant stopped and leaned against the doorway of your classroom. Looking at you expectantly. Fuck it. “Maybe I could help.” You looked at him. “With your mom I mean.” He looked confused, his brows furrowing as he tried to figure out what you were proposing. “How?” Taking a deep breath in, you began rambling the plan that had formed in your head in the span of maybe 10 seconds. Which in hindsight, perhaps was a sign that this was a really dumb idea. “Well. I’m assuming your moms problem is that Darren is not a girl. Because you’re Christian and all. Which, I don’t know, not very Christian, ya know? Loving your neighbour and all. But anyway. If her problem is in fact that, I am a very good liar, I know enough about like the bible and stuff, and I happen to be a girl…” You trail off. He looked as confused as he did before you started talking, which, honestly, you figured this would not be enough to get him to understand. It was just too embarrassing to finish. You felt cold all of a sudden. Nervous. Rubbing your arms for warmth, or perhaps in an attempt to rub the nervousness away. “I’m saying I could be your fake girlfriend until she calms down.” You finally huffed out. “Ohhhhhhh” You swore you could almost see the lightbulb that went off above his head. “Gotcha.” He nodded contemplatively. “You’re really smart, y/n, I’m impressed.” Still nodding. You were a little surprised he knew your name. People tended to not know it because you mostly kept to yourself outside of your friendship with Darren and Quinni. And you hadn’t talked to Ant before, like literally ever. Yeah you shared a lot of classes, but he didn’t really seem to pay attention and so far you had never been paired with him for any group work. “Let’s do it.” He grinned, excitedly. “Wait what?” Your eyes widened in surprise. “For real?” You didn’t know what you expected his answer to be, but for some reason you hadn’t prepared yourself for a yes.

“Yeah! I’m in! I only see positives honestly. I get to pretend to date the coolest girl I know and get my mom off my back.” Wait, what did he say? The coolest girl he knows? Huh? You blinked in confusion as he left you standing in front of the open door to go to his seat. Autopilot activated you went to your seat, in between Darren and Quinni. Completely zoned out your eyes trained on Ant who was sitting a couple rows ahead and to your right. “Earth to y/n, repeat Earth to y/n.” A hand was waving in front of your face and you blinked as you turned to Darren. “huh?”. “What’s wrong with you today, space girl?” They asked. “What?” Your brain hadn’t completely caught up yet. “Why were you talking to Ant?” Quinni asked excitedly. Why was she excited? “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk to him before.” She mused. Uh. What were you supposed to tell them? Both of them looked at you expectantly. Completely frozen, your brain refused to cooperate. “I.. uh. Amerie. Party. Slapband. You know?” The words were more stuttered out than said, and they did in fact not know what you meant.  Your saviour came in the form of a very out-of-breath Amerie, who was almost late to class, but just almost. She fell into her seat next to Quinni and immediately started babbling about whatever it was she was up to after she had left you and Ant, taking all attention off of you. And if they saw you staring at Ant the whole class, they didn’t say anything. Yet.

By the end of the school day you had bounced back, the whole Ant thing still nagging at a corner of your brain but not at the front anymore. Until you were walking out the school gate with Darren, Quinni and Amerie, that is. “Hey, y/n, Wait up!.” This caught the attention of your more than nosy friends. You stopped and turned around to see Ant jogging up with a stupidly cute grin on his face. “Um, hi, what’s up?” Your face felt unusually flushed. Your friends looked at you like they were vultures and you, and the ensuing gossip that would come from this, their prey. You didn’t need to look at them to know that. “Here.” He held out a slapband. “You don’t have one yet, do you?” “No, I don’t, actually.” You were about to tell him that you were not interested. Partys? Not your thing. But the way he looked at you, and the fact that he got you one and went out of his way to give it to you, rendered you incapable of rejecting it. He was waiting for you to take it, or do something to accept it, so you lifted your arm and held it out in front of him. He slapped it on your arm and you mumbled out a thank you. “No worries, babe.” He leaned in and gave you quick peck on the cheek before he proceeded to wink at you and then leave with a wave and a “See you later!”. You almost dropped to your knees. What the hell just happened. Wide-eyed you looked after him, hand lifting to touch the cheek he had just kissed, legs still awfully wobbly. “BABE?!?!?!” A chorus of awestruck half-yells ripped you out of your moment, seconds before your friends came into view in front of you and crowded you. This was… too much. You gave up trying to keep your legs steady and dropped down to the ground, sitting on your knees, before shifting to sit criss-cross applesauce. “Whoa, shit girl, you okay?” Amerie dropped down next to you. Not trusting your voice you simply nodded yes. “Oh my god, you and Anthony Vaughn?” Darren crouched down next, almost scandalized by what they had just witnessed. “Oh, are we sitting now?” Quinni, bless her, sat down next to you. “Yeah…” You just said, to no one in particular, nodding. “Oh my god, you’re like, a total goner.” Amerie laughed. “I am?” You turned to look at her with puppy-dog eyes. Before this day started, you had never talked to Anthony Vaughn before, and now, before it ended, you were apparently head over heels for him. You blamed it on hormones, or some kind of chemical inbalance in your brain. Because… there was no way, right?

This would make the fake-dating significantly harder, you concluded, after you had time to mull it over. You and your friends had continued sitting on the ground for a good 10 minutes, before you felt stable enough to attempt standing and walking again. Of course they all had a million questions, yelling simultaneously, trying to understand what they had just witnessed. You had no idea what to tell them. “I will tell you once I know.” You end up saying, which leads to more questions. “Seriously guys, not right now.” You couldn’t tell them anything before you lined up stories with Ant. Well, technically you could tell them it was all fake, but they were all huge blabbermouths, and you wanted to check in with Ant first, before doing anything. You hadn’t expected him to just… go and do that. Like, at least you had expected talking to him once, or maybe twice, about what being in a fake relationship entailed, you know, lining up stories, where, what, who, when…. What kind of person his mother was, how far to go, how much to do to make it believable. But now everything had kind of blown up and it had to wait. You didn’t even have his number, you realized, after you were finally alone. The gang had tried to peer-pressure you into making this a whole goss-sesh at the diner, but you managed to worm your way out of it. Now they would probably just do it anyway, but without you to defend yourself. Not that there was anything you could say right now. Frustrated you blew a piece of hair out of your face. This was gonna be one hell of a week.

#x reader #fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction #imagine #hbh #heartbreak high #anthony vaughn #ant vaughn #hbh ant #heartbreak high ant #heartbreak high anthony vaughn #ant x reader #anthony vaughn x reader #anthony vaughn imagine #hbh ant x reader #heartbreak high x reader #heartbreak high imagine #heartbreak high fanfic #mhaf-writes

[jinkookspencil]

til you make it | jjk

jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

tags/description: jk x chubby reader / fluff / friends to lovers / fake dating trope / rating: like pg13 or 15 with swear words / slow paced / it feels like one very long date :)) / this can be read as a oneshot but it ends in a way that sets up a part 2 which i will likely write but i still haven't gotten the chance to do so please bear with me / image from koomoments, i found it on goggle and edited it further

words: ~7.7k

tw+note: this fic includes fatshaming - detailed description: someone makes a comment about jk being out of oc/yn’s league and her not being good enough to date jungkook because of her size (the person says this to jk, behind oc/yn's back). oc/yn assumes people think that too, and talks to jungkook about her experiences dating as a plus-sized woman, mainly the fact that her ex was ashamed to go out with her. and in case anyone is wondering about where this fic comes from and any sensitivities regarding this fic, this is another fic that is loosely based on an experience i had myself... well, i wish this was what i had ~.~ i channeled my hurt into something comforting for myself and hopefully others. if anyone has ever been in a similar position and was fat-shamed or made to feel like they don't deserve good things because of your size, just know that you never deserved that treatment - you deserve all the good the world has to offer. lots of love always to my fellow curvy/plus/chubby people, and anyone who takes the time to read my fics <3

“Jungkook… Jungkook are you there?”

Your muffled voice echoed through his phone, thrown on the bed behind him as he searched his room frantically for his sweatpants. Talking to you on the phone wasn’t uncommon, but he jumped the moment he saw your name and when the clock on his bedside table confirmed the time. 3 AM. Later than you’d ever called. Dressing might’ve been a silly notion, but at this hour, his fight or flight response was triggered, and he couldn’t bring himself to think, let alone talk to you half-dressed. The urgency and/or intimacy of it all… frightened him.

“Yes! I’m here!” he calls out, hopping into his sweatpants before grabbing the phone and putting you up to his ear, feeling the cool glass of his screen nudged between his neck and his shoulder as he tied the strings at his stomach. “What’s up?”

“I need… a favor.”

“Anything.” He couldn’t have answered any faster. In the back of his mind, Jungkook hoped you’d called for another late-night talk, maybe one of your delirious, exhaustion-caused conversations where you’d fall asleep to his voice as he played along with whatever you’d wanted to talk about… Those were his favorites, even doing the same to you himself. Or maybe it was to inquire about one of his ramen recipes, going so far as to hope you’d ask him to come over and make it for you… In a perfect world, maybe. Well, if it were a perfect world, it’d be a confession.

A favor only made his heart race faster. Jungkook trusted his intuition in getting dressed, already walking to his front door, ready to go to you wherever you were... He already presumed you weren't drunk in a club and in need of someone to pick you up... you didn’t sound like it. The ramen recipe, perhaps? Though you sounded too anxious for it to be so. In any case, he meant his words - he’d do anything for you…

“It’s not serious, but it will take up some of your time tomorrow.”

“I said anything,” he reiterates, partly relieved.

“I’m invited to a wedding next week - my sister's best friend - and I need to get a dress. Do you mind coming to the mall with me tomorrow…”

That’s it? Jungkook joyously helped you pick out outfits, accessories, and even nail polish colors in the past, and every time he did - whether you’d asked or when he’d subtly recommended something he liked to you - his heart would flutter whenever he’d seen you actually take his advice, so he’d definitely agree, happily even…. but there had to be more to it.

“Well, I mean, of course….” he whispered quietly into the phone, his confusion apparent.

“Yeah, there’s more to it - don’t agree just yet...” In the moment of silence that followed, Jungkook silently prayed you’d ask him to go to the wedding with you. To be your plus one. Oh, what he’d give to spend the night beside you, the both of you all dolled up… Imagining the possible starlights at the scene with love in the air, he knew it’d be a great chance at finally confessing. If he chickened out, at least he’d be able to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend for a night.

“Would you…. Would it be okay if you pretended to be my boyfriend?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn at the thought of the heavens answering his prayers that quickly and immediately regretted not asking for more. He almost missed what you’d said next. “If we go shopping tomorrow…. Would it be okay for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“When… when we go shopping?” Jungkook choked, knowing you could hear his confusion through the phone once again.

“Yeah… You see… Most times when I go shopping… someone always has something to say about my body, and I’m kind of sick of it. ‘You won’t find anything in our store. Please leave.’ ‘I’m surprised this fits you.’ And then, just last week, I got the ‘Honey, no dress could flatter you enough that you’d be able to pull a man.’ That got me thinking, and…. I kinda suspect you, or someone, a man, being there with me might shut them up… some weird form of using the patriarchy and people’s internalized misogyny to, weirdly enough, protect my peace.”

Jungkook felt his blood boil as you went on. You, the most beautiful person he’d ever met, were being shamed… spoken to in that way…. often? People went out of their way to make you feel bad…. for having a body?

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah… I’m a bit embarrassed, actually… Should we forget it? Pretend I never asked. If it’s too much, I could just go alone - if I experience it, I experience it. I’m used to it. I just want to… try this as an experiment.”

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed. You don’t have to be. I feel embarrassed for not… for not knowing... I’m so fucking sorry you… ever had to go through that.” He’d felt a pang in his heart as the words left his mouth. An idiot was what he thought he was. It was something he’d never spared a thought about - how people, how you, could be mistreated in everyday life for simply existing as you were….

“No, don’t be sorry, Jungkook. It is what it is.”

It is what it is? It shouldn’t be, he thought.

“Of course I’ll be there, ____. Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend.” He told you he’d do anything for you, and he meant it - he needed you to know that - and this was the very least he could do. “And hey, for the record, I’ll never let that ever happen to you again, you hear me? You just call me, okay? Anytime. I’ll do whatever I can. You’re not going through this shit again, okay? I'm your boyfriend whenever you want me to be... ”

Did you take the hint?

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you say, with an exhale and a slight giggle that gives away that you’d been choked up, the final nail in the coffin for Jungkook’s composure…

It wasn't the right time to confess, he knew that, but an ‘I love you’ still rested at the tip of his tongue. Friends loved each other... 'I love you' was always a comforting thing to hear... would it be so awkward now? You both have told each other variations of the saying in the past - from ‘love ya’s’ to random finger hearts in crowded rooms- but never the exact phrase. It held too much weight - the weight of the confession that, similarly, he’d been dying to relay…. but he reminded himself... it wasn't the right time.

“I told you… anything”

“I’ll see you tomorrow… boyfriend.”

✿

“Hi… girlfriend.”

Jungkook didn’t even try to hide the smile on his face. It’d hopefully overshadow the bags under his eyes… He’d been up for hours after your call - pressure, joy, anger, and pain overwhelming him all at once as he imagined what you might’ve gone through before, what undeserving, cruel words you’d heard from people too blind to see the sheer beauty before them. It hurt him even more that you felt embarrassed about asking him for help. You never should’ve been embarrassed about a damn thing. If anything had been embarrassing at the situation, it was the time he’d spent in front of his mirror, rehearsing vague, angry threats and snide comments he might have had to make, tapping out after a cringey “that’s my girlfriend” line.

Jungkook was never one to insult and intimidate others so purposefully, his enigmatic baby villain-like exterior always doing the work instead. It'd work whether they saw him as the lovestruck, caring sweetheart he was or the tough, protective boyfriend he could also be... but he knew the tattoos, piercings, and his physique probably aided him with the latter option, with Jungkook himself assuming it was the reason you'd asked him specifically to help out, especially over Taehyung, your mutual friend who also happened to be an actor... And busy on a late-night shoot, Tae left him helpless. He could not prepare any speech or insult to save his life, stuck between how to go about his dream role. You'd trusted him, and Jungkook decided he had no choice but to trust himself too. Whatever he emulated was up to the other person, and whatever came out of him would be the truth he’d been feeling at the moment. Whether he leaned into either side - either knowingly or unknowingly - all of it was still him, and specifically him as a boyfriend... That killed the nerves more than anything and allowed him to focus on the silver lining. He’d gotten the role he’d always wanted, and though there could have been better contexts, you looked as beautiful as ever in your flowy sundress… even as you did roll your eyes.

“Boyfriend,” you greeted him jokingly, smiling too before looking at him up and down. “What do you have going on today, Koo? I can't tell if you just came from the gym or not.”

Jungkook shakes his head in response, a proud, bunny-toothed smirk on his face. After ransacking his entire wardrobe that morning, he paired his go-to ripped jeans with a Nike muscle tee, clutching his motorcycle jacket in his hand. It wasn’t like him to wear sleeveless tops outside of the gym, still shy to show off the muscles he’d worked so hard for, as well as the tattoos he’d designed himself…. but provided he was there to intimidate others - and hopefully impress you - he had no doubts about showing them off and his mish-mash of an outfit. “This is just in case anyone even thought about saying anything to you today,” he added, flexing his muscles before spreading his arms wide open. “Come here.”

It didn’t pass Jungkook’s eye that you’d hesitated to step into his arms, but when you do, he finds himself inhaling deeply - your scent, but more so the feeling of you. With you in his arms, everything fell into place, as it always had with you.

“I’ve always got you. I have your back, you know that right?” he whispered into your neck, digging his fingertips as hard as he could into your soft, plush skin, hoping it’d emphasize his promise when he noted how your heartbeat hadn’t slowed as it always did when you hugged.

You hadn’t said a word the entire time, even as you pulled away and glanced up at him - ever so briefly. He'd have waited until you said something first, but he’d always read your face with ease, and the panic he sensed emanating from you only agonized him further. Once again, he tries to push away the scenarios you must’ve gone through.

He murmurs your name, sparking your attention. Remembering his role for the evening, Jungkook allowed himself to follow an urge he’d always resisted, brushing a stray hair away from your face, cupping your round chin in his hands. It felt too good - a taste of his forbidden imagined scenarios and the person he'd always dreamt of.

“Always, okay? I won’t allow my girlfriend to go through this,” he said, forcing himself to emphasize the title he wanted to give you in a teasing way. Again, you roll your eyes and push his hand away.

“We’re just testing a theory, Koo,” you say, starting to walk with him alongside you. “Don’t… get too into it.”

“Are you kidding? The acting classes I took years ago are finally coming in handy. This is good practice,” he said, wishing he could just tell you that he likely wouldn’t be acting at all - merely doing all the things he wished he could do on a regular basis. He kicked it off by grabbing your wrist, intertwining your fingers into his.

Jungkook had been so cool, so collected until this moment. It was only until he actually did it that Jungkook realized that hand-holding was expected, and he cursed himself for not spending more time prepping himself in front of the mirror. It was such a simple act, what he always wanted to do.... and so it drove him crazier than the hug. You’d hugged in the past, as friends do, but never held hands... not like this, at least. Taehyung had urged him to try doing so in the past, to ‘gauge your response,’ but he’d always been too much of a coward to do anything besides ask for high-fives and offer his elbow for you to hold when he walked you home. You were braver, taking his hand and tracing his tattoos whenever your talks went a little too deep or needed a distraction…. just as you did now, with your finger rubbing the skin below his thumb... Still, this felt different for the both of you.

Jungkook bit at his lips, trying to hold back….something. He himself wasn’t even sure if it was a smile or a squeal, but he soon remembered the point of his presence. The favor. A boyfriend - he, as a boyfriend - would never be able to keep his eyes off of his loved one. So, he’d allowed himself to steal glances your way, noting every single time how low you’d kept your head as you walked.

"Hey," he says, stopping.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smiles, taking in your expression and the way the sunlight beautifully shone on your face. "I just wanted to look at you."

"Okay, Bradley Cooper in A Star is Born," you chuckle, nudging him to continue your walk. "You need to watch more movies."

"And you need to know that you look really pretty today. You do know you're pretty, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Koo... I know."

Jungkook didn't know if you believed him or if you were serious or not, but he knew damn well that he was... Perhaps he was overdoing it already, but remembering how quickly his prayers had been answered just the night before, he held out hope that the universe still had his back, silently praying you’d soon realize see how good of a “fake” boyfriend he was and asked him to be your real one.

“This is the main store I wanted to visit, Koo,” you say, stopping in front of a modern gold and beige storefront on the busy high street. Suddenly, he felt an emptiness in his hand and at his side when you let go to reach out and pull open the glass door. Already half open, he forcefully tugs the brass handle as far back as he could, holding the door open for you to walk in first.

“I’m your boyfriend, remember? Let me do it,” he whispers by your ears and into the stony silence of the cool room.

Looking around, Jungkook quickly saw plenty of dresses that’d look great on you. It was overwhelming at first glance, but the one you pulled out from a nearby rack trumped them all. A blush, floor-length tulle dress, with tiny embroidered daisies scattered all over the fabric, including the translucent balloon sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline. It was almost as beautiful as you were.

“I knew they had this in stock! What do you think?” you smile, putting it up against your body. For the first time that day, Jungkook’s mind went blank - he was suddenly grateful you hadn’t asked him to accompany you to the wedding. It’d be too much to see you in it.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, holding the fabric between his index and thumb, tracing over a tiny daisy.

“Right? I’ll go try it on. Wait here, okay?” you say, moving to leave but quickly returning to place a swift kiss on his cheek.

Jungkook was so taken aback he did nothing even long after he’d seen you approach the sales assistant in the back and disappear into a dressing room.

“You can sit over here,” said the woman, who now returned and pointed at the arrangement of chairs a few steps away.

“Thanks,” he whispered, only now realizing his hand had been on his cheek, tracing the ghost of your kiss. You’d kissed his cheek. He’d been happily playing the role of the boyfriend the entire time, he hadn’t realized you hadn’t done much to play the role of ‘the girlfriend’ in return. But you did it. You kissed him. You wanted to, at least in that moment…

Jungkook tried not to linger on the thought any longer, knowing it’d feed his delusions. Pulling out his phone as he plopped onto the velvet seat, he loaded up the mobile game he’d been struggling with, and it was a few minutes later when he realized someone had been calling him.

“Sorry?” Jungkook asked, looking up to see the sales assistant leaning on the couch opposite him.

“I said ‘Hey,’” she repeats.

“Hey…” he responds, perplexed until he realizes you might've been calling him. “Is she okay in there? Does she need me?”

“Uhm, I don't think so,” she replies, seemingly just as confused as he was. “But… I was wondering… what’s her deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is she rich or something?”

“What?”

“I mean, what’s the catch, exactly? Why are you with her?”

“Because I love her? There's no catch.” It was freeing to say the words so openly, Jungkook thought - they’d left his lips without a thought. Still, what's it to her?

“Oh, come on,” she went on, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re out of her league. Just keep her for 'her kind' and the fetish freaks on the Internet, you know? You’re too hot to-“

In utter disbelief and refusing to hear another word, Jungkook stood up and made a beeline for the dressing room, his long strides and huffs echoing throughout the store in response.

“Hey, babe - need any help with the dress?” he asks a little too loudly, knocking on the dressing room door in the same fashion.

“....Yeah, actually. Can you get the woman that works here?” you say on the other side.

“No. Let me in.”

“Jungkook, just call her.”

“Let me in. I’m your boyfriend,” he emphasizes. “Let your boyfriend help.”

“…This dress is supposed to be a surprise, honey,” you reply.

“Babe, I already saw the dress,” he half-chuckles, almost forgetting his anger. You were clever as hell but never thought of the wittiest comebacks - it was endearing.

Jungkook rushed through the moment you pried open the wooden door, turning the metal lock behind him. Still lost in his thoughts, he mindlessly zips up your dress before stomping to the room’s bench, sitting upon it with his head in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies, feeling just how furrowed his brows had been as he stared at the floor.

“You don’t seem like it. Why’d you insist on coming in here?” you say by the mirror a few footsteps away.

“.....Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, this was uncool. I just wanted to get out of there. The… uh… scents on their diffuser were too much. My nose acted up... started sneezing.” It was hard to lie to you. He’d rushed over because he always had, for you were his safe space even now, but it surely was to prove something too. His eyes darted around the cramped dressing room, trying to look anywhere but you... he was too ashamed. “I'm so sorry, ____. This was my first thought. I didn’t even think that you were obviously getting dressed. Should I leave?”

“Koo, honey, relax. I don't know what's up, but... I don't think I want you to leave," you softly whisper.

Pink obstructed his vision, the spot on the carpet he'd been so focused on. Daisies made him snap out of his rage. And the hand on his knee interrupted the voice in his head that’d been on a tirade on the injustices of the world. But looking up at you, the world suddenly seemed so beautiful - you were in it.

“I'd never leave, then,” he says with a smile. “I’m fine.”

The reassurance was enough for you to get up from your crouched position by his legs and return to the mirror.

“We both know you can't lie, so I need you to tell me how I look in this dress. My curves stick out a little more than I’d like, and I don’t know how I feel about the whole arm situation. But I think I’ll get it. Nice, huh?”

“Nice." Repeating your description was the only thing he could do, unable to think of anything else to say. You were covered in flowers, yet here you stood, prettier than every single flower he’d seen in his entire life, let alone the ones on your dress. The dress did cling to your body at certain angles, and that’s what made it even all the more alluring. He had no idea what you’d meant by 'the whole arm situation' - the skin he’d always wanted to bite on was even more tempting through the translucent fabric… and with your shoulders out... it was a sight too good to be true. A wave of envy rushed over him, thinking of all the wedding guests that'd see you in the dress for hours while he only got a glimpse... They had no idea just how damn lucky they were, but Jungkook knew that he was as well, grateful for this very moment and trying to take a photographic memory of how you looked, twirling so alluringly in the room with him alone.

“Beautiful, actually,” he quickly adds.

"Good. If your nitpicky Virgo ass thinks it's a beautiful dress, then that means it really is pretty,” you say, satisfied.

It wasn't the dress that was so beautiful...

He opens his mouth to correct you, but nothing comes out, and you speak before he does. “Uhm, help me with the zipper again?”

Jungkook’s anger had blinded him when he’d zipped it up - the intimacy of the moment only just sinking in when he stood behind you, facing the back of your neck and shoulders. He was unzipping your dress - granted, not in the context he’d always imagined, but he couldn’t help but do it at the speed he’d always wanted to… slow and steady. What felt like an eternity later, just a few centimeters from the top of the dress, Jungkook sees lace peeking through. Abruptly letting go of the metal in his hands, Jungkook inhales, trying to shove away the image, but it must’ve been the hardest thing he’d ever tried to do. He never imagined you were the type to wear a strapless, lacy maroon bra. He didn’t even think bras came in that color. The rare times he dared to take his imagination that far, only for fleeting moments, he’d mentally dress you up in pink or black… Maroon was, somehow, sexier. This... this was too good to be true.

But Jungkook, always so detail-oriented, quickly spots a tiny piece of metal at your waist. Another zipper. Did he zip that one up as well? His fingers pull the zipper down, only for your hand to cover his, stopping him.

*“*Thank you, Koo... I got it from here,” you say with a hush.

"I'm sorry," he says in a similar fashion, stepping away.

"Don't be. But, uhm... I’ll get dressed. You don’t have to leave, but… can you... look away?”

“Of course,” Jungkook panics, turning around to face the abstract art on the wall. He tried his hardest to make sense of the colorful shapes in front of him, but all he could take in were the sounds behind him. Soft fabric, falling onto the carpeted floor. The brushing of bare feet… bare thighs. Fabrics, zippers, a clanky hanger…. He reckoned that if he tried hard enough, he might’ve been able to hear the humming of a radiator that must’ve been hidden behind these walls - he could certainly feel the heat, wiping away a bead of sweat. Another zipper. Probably the actual source of all the heat.

“Done, Koo,” he hears softly from behind him.

With a blink, Jungkook realized the shapes in front of him clearly made up a cityscape.

“Koo,” you call again, and he finally turns around to face you, hoping his face hadn’t been as flushed as yours was. You’d been changing - what excuse did he have? The giggle you let out confirms his suspicions, which he tried to cough away... until he gets an idea.

"Oh, hey, wear this," Jungkook says, handing you his leather jacket.

"W-why would I?" you ask.

Because I always wanted you to wear my clothes, I finally have an excuse to ask you to do so, and this will drive me and everyone else crazy, Jungkook thinks.

"It's cold outside," he utters.

"Jungkook, it's almost summer... why else would I be wearing a sundress?"

"It can get breezy! And hey, you want my opinion on fashion? Your outfit will look better with this on." Not exactly what he wanted to say.... "You know... sundress and leather jacket? Pretty and tough... Juxtaposition... It's a thing. It's... what couples do."

"I don't know if it'll fit, Koo," you say quietly, staring at the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Drape it over your shoulders, then," he says, doing it himself. He guessed that it would have fit you but didn't insist on it then and there - even if it hadn't, he'd always find ways to make you feel loved as his girlfriend... And you looked adorable in his jacket.

"Looks even better this way, actually..." you murmur, brushing away the hair from your face, clearly flustered. It gives Jungkook the exact rush and confidence he needs. He unlocks the door, taking your hand as he walks out of the dressing room together - more than ready to nail his dream role once again.

“It was a perfect fit - I’ll buy this for sure,” you say to the sales assistant with a smile, placing the dress on the marble counter. Jungkook could feel you try to let go of his hand, but he wouldn’t budge and only held on tighter - he’d let you struggle with your purse one-handedly if it meant he was holding your hand.

It only helped him reach for his wallet with his free hand quicker, handing the woman his black card after she’d announced the price.

“Jungkook, no,” you whispered, hand deep in your purse, the other still trapped by his grasp.

“Baby, it’s only fair that I pay,” he starts, in a low, hushed tone just loud enough to be heard as he takes in your quizzical expression with a smirk on his face. “…Since I’ll be ripping it off of you later.”

Jungkook can't help but chuckle, seeing you go catatonic beside him after letting out a comically loud gulp in response. He doesn’t need to look at the sales assistant’s face to know she’d been startled as well, almost forgetting to hand him the receipt. Putting away his card and wallet single-handedly, Jungkook quickly looks back at you when he realizes your hand has turned limp in his. He’d only ever seen you so petrified when he’d suggested you watch a horror film together, in the hopes of you curling up in his arms - but he’d always stupidly ruin the moment with a laugh seeing your frozen state and wide eyes, just like now…

“I love seeing my girl all flustered. You looked so beautiful in it, honey... Just wait til Sunday,” he laughs with a wink, wrapping an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and finally place a kiss on your head. He didn’t even know if the wedding was on a Sunday - if the lie fits… “Excuse me, do you know if there are any lingerie stores nearby? A place they’d sell something that suits the dress? I’m not done treating her - well, the both of us, really….”

“There’s a place two blocks down,” the woman says with her face flushed, and Jungkook yanks the bag into his hands the moment he is able to do so.

“Thanks,” you whisper, seemingly to both him and the woman. Reaching for your hand once again, Jungkook intertwines your fingers in his, occupying both of his hands and awkwardly following you out.

The two of you walk side by side in silence, replaying the moment until the store is out of sight and Jungkook finally realizes the gravity of what he’d said.

“____... Sorry about… what I said back there. I really didn't mean to be disrespectful... I should’ve checked in with you first before just saying that shit. It was just where my mind went to, and...Wait… Fuck.. please don’t think I had those thoughts when-”

“You didn’t?”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have those thoughts?”

Jungkook could so easily read your face most times, but this wasn’t one of them. Did you want him to have those thoughts about you? Should he lie? Were you just playing the role of the girlfriend, even now? Should he answer as the boyfriend or just Jungkook or…

“Relax, Koo. It was just unexpected… a little jerky, if it wasn’t you or if I hadn’t asked you to pretend… I thought the maroon suits the dress, though,” you pout.

“It does!” Jungkook blurts. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Jungkook. That was actually nice,” you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm, interrupting his train of thought.

“Nice?”

“Yeah… this is all…. this is very nice,” you hum, tugging at his leather jacket on your shoulders before wrapping your hands around his arm.

Was it really happening?

“I know you’re just faking it, but… it feels good to be treated this way. To have a boy… treat me like this… publicly.”

“Publicly? What do you mean?” he asks, ignoring the urge to deny he’d been faking anything.  “You had boyfriends before, no? What about your ex? Mr. Organic Shoes?” Jungkook could never remember the guy's name, remembering how distant the two of you had been at that time.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “No… no, he never… he never did this. He convinced me I wanted a too-private relationship -  you remember, I barely told anyone anything… I barely saw you or Tae... anyone. We barely went out, not for our anniversary, not to events, dinners….. nothing. The rare times we did, he’d never even hold my hand. I went along with it, figured that was his dating style and that he was just that shy, but - surprise, surprise - he goes everywhere with his new actress girlfriend, as proven by me drunkenly Insta-stalking him the other night. I like nights in more than anyone, but it was clear he just wanted me in private. In the breakup, he actually admitted he’d be ashamed to go out with me. It was that messy.”

“What the fuck does that idiot have to be ashamed about?” Jungkook fumed, even more so when you laugh in response.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, ____….. Fuck that guy, honestly,” Jungkook spits out, surveying the area he stood in and considering if it was possible to somehow track the asshole down and beat him up then and there, but with you still latched onto him so tightly…. he wouldn’t leave for anything. “You were always way too good for him, for anyone… I wish I’d told you sooner.”

“Thanks, Koo,” you whisper, hiding your face against his arm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t have the guts to face you at that moment either, knowing he’d kiss you all over just to show you how loudly and publicly you deserved to be loved if that's what you wanted.

“Thanks for today, too. My theory seems to be correct… I wasn't fat-shamed, so ‘yay’ to being treated with basic human decency. But that means you'll likely have to join me again in the future. Congratulations, Koo - you're one-off acting gig turned into a regular role in the _____ Cinematic Universe. What favor do you want in return? What’s your price, Jeon?”

“Oh, I'm never letting you shop without me ever again. See how good my leather jacket is on you? Forget being a boyfriend, my fashion advice is like no other. No... no, this is a Marvel contract now. I'm in this for life... but we agree this isn’t a one-off cameo? Spider-Kook is the star of this universe, alongside you? Just the two of us?"

"What, do you want me to get another guy to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

Fuck no. Jungkook shakes his head.

"I’m still your boyfriend for the day, aren’t I?"

".. What did you have in mind?"

“....I wanna show you something.”

✿

Nagging usually works on Jungkook. Well, nagging was a bit of an exaggeration - he caved in quickly when it came to your requests, seemingly forgetting his sheer signature willpower. But now, even you would admit that you’d been unrelenting… you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had been very vague about ‘what he wanted to show you,' the favor you'd pay in return for his current and future fake boyfriend gigs. But he wouldn't budge, even going so far as to finally resign with a smile and tell you to ‘just shut up and let him lead.’ Jungkook had always been down to do whatever you wanted to do - a true highlight in your friendship - but now, your heart fluttered at him taking the lead…. and even more so when he took you by the hand and excitedly, physically led you to all the places he did… his hand never leaving yours.

First, he took you to a bookstore - nailing the part of the perfect boyfriend with that choice alone, then taking it further when he went on to say he’d treat you to two books - one of your own choosing, the other of his. Something straight out of a romance book, as your day had been thus far.... and Jungkook must've caught on. Of all the books in all the aisles, he had to pick out “Fake It Til You Make It” - the fake dating romance book that inspired all this, only the roles were reversed… In truth, you could’ve easily asked Taehyung to pretend to be your boyfriend and help test out your experiment instead - the two of you were friends as well, and though your relationship was strictly platonic, Tae was an actual actor… But you had to jump at the chance that there might be a teeny, tiny possibility that life imitates fiction and your crush would see you in a new light. And if he hadn’t ended up thinking that dating you might not be too bad of an option… at least you’d get a day of what you’d always longed for. It was a risk. You’d never been able to hide your emotions and already got teary-eyed a number of times, seeing Jungkook act as noble as he’d always been… even better than the perfect boyfriend you’d imagined him to be. It was getting harder and harder to muster up the courage to ask him to accompany you to the wedding as well…

The second place Jungkook led you to was a photo booth studio. He spent way too much money on many different takes and overpriced photo strips, trying different decorations, poses, and photo options. If his arm around your shoulder weren’t holding onto you so firmly, you’d have bolted when he’d insisted on taking a ‘couples version,’ as if the rest weren’t torturously coupley enough. He must have found you out, and it was getting embarrassing.

“I guess…. To back up this lie,” you’d said sheepishly, trying to remind yourself of the situation.

“Sit on my lap and sit still,” he’d instructed, helping you onto his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Looking off to the side, you couldn’t tell what Jungkook did for the first photo - probably a funny face. For the second, he turned your face to his with his fingers underneath your chin, and you heard the camera click. His features seemed softer, a twinkle present in his eyes… you’d missed the countdown once again, and suddenly Jungkook’s lips were on your cheek, your face held in his hand. He let out a loud mwah you could still feel against your skin after he backed away.

“You kissed my cheek earlier, so…” he quickly mumbled.

A stinging feeling hadn’t left your face. It was hard to say whether it was the lingering feeling of Jungkook’s lips or its effect, the smile you couldn’t stop from appearing on your face.

“Here,” Jungkook whispers, handing you one of the two duplicate photo-strips.

Oh… he was looking at me in that first photo. Why do we look so in love? Holy shit, is he a good actor. Oh hey, how did I not realize he’d also been smiling when he kissed my cheek?

“Put it on the back of your phone,” you hear.

“To back up the lie,” he says, repeating your own words when you finally look at him through your lashes, catching him slip his copy into his wallet as you did into your phone case. Before you were able to process what he’d just done and the photos staring back at you, he wrapped his around your wrist, pulling you out of the tight space.

It was still hard to tell what Jungkook had wanted to show you…. More glimpses of something you could never have, perhaps…

✿

Jungkook was running out of time. He wanted to do so much more for you. He’d imagined taking you out on so many different types of dates and crammed in as many as he could with the time he had left in the day, the possibly pivotal hours that he hoped would awaken something in you.

It was hard not to get carried away, as he always had a tendency to... He’d begun speculating that he actually was in a dream in the bookstore when he found the novel with a story eerily similar to his exact predicament. Ever the believer in fate, Jungkook took it as a sign that he was doing the right thing…. and if all that he was doing couldn’t wake you up, surely the book would... Then at the photobooth… Jungkook could have sworn you’d felt like a real couple then - you’d just been goofing around together, as you always had…. In such a cramped space filled with laughter and love, he’d finally mustered up the courage to kiss you back. He could have sworn he’d seen you smile so wide after that, and that made him happier than the kiss did. Maybe he had a shot....

The third stop was a quick run to the grocery store, which he knew would confuse you most of all. He mindlessly grabbed both of your favorite snacks and drinks in a rush before dashing out, thanking the heavens that he'd made it exactly where he wanted to be, right on time after that.

The park, before sunset.

As expected, the place was packed with couples, families, and friend groups all gathered around and enjoying golden hour. The cool sun shined through marshmallow-like clouds high in the warmly-hued sky. Laughter, music, and joy could be heard all around you - the sounds of happiness, home, and peace.

A perfect spring day.

A perfect opportunity.

Once you'd set up camp and his impromptu picnic, Jungkook leaned back and silently motioned to you to lean against his chest. You do so, cuddling right against him and making Jungkook feel so whole. He'd urged you to read the book he picked out, but you settled on the second one and suggested he give the other a go himself. Jungkook was never a reader, and he would read if you'd asked him to do so sincerely... but he put the book down five pages in. Why would he read a book, especially one that you needed, when he could bask in the beauty of his reality right there in that very moment?

Only thinking this far, Jungkook didn't know what to do after this, but he knew one thing: he’d never felt more alive nor more at peace.

"It's beautiful, Koo."

Jungkook opens his eyes, after closing them briefly as he took in the moment to see you staring up at the orange-pink sky.

"Yeah, it is. You're prettier, though," he says.

"Thanks, boyfriend," you scoff. "Thanks for showing me this... Thank you for the favor. Thank you for everything, Koo. I have to say that again.”

"The sky isn't exactly what I wanted to show you today, _____."

"Oh? Well, what is it?"

“Look at me, _____.”

Startled by his sudden command, you sit up to face him. He couldn’t say what he needed to say without seeing, knowing you believed him… Your eyes always told the truth.

“All of it... All of this... This day was what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you… the kind of love you deserve. The kind of boyfriend you deserve. Actually, no - this isn’t even half of what you deserve. This is just the shit I could think of on the spot on a Monday afternoon. You deserve so much more, _____. I want to show that to you. I want to… I want you to know that. You don’t need to thank me for anything. The favor wasn’t even a favor. You deserve to have someone do that for you, no questions asked. I said ‘always,’ didn’t I? You deserve to go on dates, a boyfriend who loves you loudly and proudly.”

When your ears perked up, Jungkook knew you were listening. Really listening. But the tears on your face interrupted his train of thought. He needed to do something.

“Here,” he starts, clearing his throat as he stands up. “I LOVE HER, WORLD - I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND! I AM IN LOVE WITH HER!” Jungkook’s voice echoed loud enough for every surrounding person to turn to him after his very loud declaration towards the sun.

“Jungkook!” you quietly protest, pulling him back down with a shocked smile on your face.

“I don’t know if you want exactly that….” he says, a proud, bashful smile still on his face as he reaches for your hand. “But you deserve it, regardless. Even if it’s not with me…. That’s what I wanted to show you. I wanted to show the love you deserve.”

Jungkook thanked the heavens for having his back once again. He'd imagined confessing a million different ways, but he'd never have imagined for it to go so smoothly and in such a spontaneously romantic setting. For such an important moment, he was thankful he could read you like a book once again. You took in every word, and your eyes began to water. This was it.

“Even if it’s not with you?”

Wait... what?! What did he say?! What did you say?!

"_____?”

Jungkook had been just as startled as you’d been at the calling of your name. It came from a woman who’d been sitting behind you, someone he had noticed earlier who had been clearly listening in on his confession, even smiling widely with the man beside her when he jumped up and declared his love so loudly. She… knew you?

"Rina?” you say, the shock you’d already been in still present on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s our last date night before the wedding! Picnic in the park - a classic, isn't it? You would know, boo! You have a boyfriend! You're doing the same!”

You turn, mouth agape, to face Jungkook. “Oh, we’re….”

“Oh, don’t bother denying it. We all heard loverboy’s declaration - straight out of a 1980s film. I love it! I won't tell your sister if you don't want me too,” she cheers, smiling at Jungkook. “Oh wait, you aren’t even hiding it, are you? Look at your phone case!”

The photos of you in his arms, him kissing your cheek, were displayed right there through your crystal clear phone case on your lap. Behind his now bashful smile, Jungkook felt a thrill at the exposure.

“Oh, don’t be so shy now, you two,” the man speaks now. “You reminded us of ourselves.”

“____! He's just your type! What’s your name, cutie?” the woman, Rina, asks.

“Oh, it’s Jungkook.”

"Jungkook, I'm Rina. I'm friends with _____ and her sister! I assume you're coming to our wedding next week? _____ must have told you about it already. As long as you’re _____’s boyfriend, you’re welcome. Jae & I are going all out and want as many people there as possible!”

Jungkook had no idea what he must've done in his life, or a past one, for the universe to have his back like this. It’s exactly what he’d wanted… except it didn’t come from you. With all eyes on him, his dart to you, relieved and euphoric to see you smile and nod.

“I, I, I’d love to…"

“Great! I guess we’ll see you then, loverboy. Bye, my love,” Rina says, turning back to give you a hug. “I know me and your sister are the ones who taught you not to hear anything a man has to say but…. He’s a good one. Keep him. Listen to Jungkook, huh?”

Jae leads Rina away, the two of them waving goodbye and turning back until they are out of sight. But Jungkook can’t face you yet. He confessed…. didn’t he? He knew you were listening, but it still felt as though his words remained in the air, unfinished. Did you finally get it? Rina did. The whole damn park did. At least he’d gotten what he wanted. One more gig… One more gig to perfect it.

“I guess you’re my date…. loverboy.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts scenario #jungkook x reader #bts

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Johnny Cage x Celebrity Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tonight's walk with your celebrity peer was supposed to calm you after the shitshow of an interview you had as a guest on a television host show.

Maybe the walk wasn't helping because the flickering street annoyed your senses. Or you could see the stars to a bare minimum due to light pollution.

This area is where famous or rich people commonly reside, so it's what you indirectly asked for.

"I don't get why you're surprised, Y/n. Her last name literally is a few letters off from spelling 'Degenerate'. I told you she was going to ask questions like those." Your beloved doucebag friend tries to console you. You didn't know if he was even making it worse.

"Okay, I know what you said before, Cage! I wasn't actually expecting her to just- I don't know- blurt out my personal business and try to put me on the spot." You glared at him.

"Did you not watch when Swift was-"

"Let's not talk about that." You cut him off and kept walking down the street with him, trying to brush off the embarrassment and anger.

After a brief moment of silence, Johnny sighs. "Honestly, don't take what she said to heart. Coming from me, you're amazing!"

Getting a genuine compliment from the famous actor Johnny Cage was something many can't achieve.

"Coming from you, I guess that makes me feel better." You smile a bit. "Anyways, how is the set on Ninja Mime goi-"

"Are you Y/n L/n?!" Both of you hear someone scream ahead. So much for a quiet night walk...

There stood some guy who looked around your age, looking very surprised to see you. Only you, he didn't seem to acknowledge Cage.

"Oh, erm, good evening!" You offered a shy smile. Still becoming a growing celebrity, you weren't quite use to interacting with fans. Despite being on stage a few times, but it's partially different.

The fan ran to you, making you tense up in alert, but he only extended out a hand.

To you, it wasn't a big deal to give a fan a simple handshake, not until he said something unnecessarily random.

"Wow, you looked a lot slimmer in your photos."

It just didn't click until you noticed him looking you up and down which made you pretty uncomfortable.

And that comment alone made Johnny take his sunglasses off to eye the boy in a disgusted manner. Unfortunately, it didn't end there.

Retrieving your hand away and brushing it on your clothes, you let out a fake laugh before you and Johnny moved along past.

"Well, nice to meet you. I wish you a goodnight." You politely dismissed.

The fan frowned just before speeding in front of you. "Wait! Can I maybe get your phone number? Or you can follow me on my social media! I pretty much have everything you got-"

"Ohh, no thanks! Sweet of you, but I'm okay!" You smile wider, getting more uncomfortable to the point you reached for your friend's hand for comfort or perhaps help.

"But-"

"Hey, buddy, she said no! Go back to your room and jerk it!" Johnny snapped, pulling you behind him to be protective.

The fan didn't take lightly to the confrontation. "I wasn't talking to you! Your movies fucking suck!"

You grimaced, knowing that one was a strike to Johnny's ego. You butt in before it escalates further.

"If I take a picture with you, would you be happy with that?" You asked the obsessed male, patting Johnny so he moves out your way. He still kept an irritated glare on the boy.

"Sure, I'd like that. But can I still get your-"

Johnny pulls you away before the boy finishes his greedy requests. "Lesson thirty-six, you offer a fan one thing, you give them EVERYTHING."

Before you even replied, the fan tries grabbing you back which made you panic.

Letting out a yelp, Johnny was alerted and did not hesitate to punch the creep. The delivered hit caused the fan to fall on the concrete, a little red fluid leaking from his nose and covering a bit of his teeth.

"You don't ever touch her! I don't care if you're her biggest fan!" Cage scolded loudly at the fan who seemed pretty knocked out after that single hit.

You let out a relieved sigh. You didn't exactly want the fan to get hurt, but no matter now, he's going to leave you alone now.

"Come on, we'll get you back to your condo." Johnny calmly tells you, wrapping an arm around you and escorting you away.

For a douchebag, he was a pretty loveable friend. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mortal kombat imagines #mk headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #goddesswritings

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [1/?]

hello!! I've been wanting to write a longer h/c fic for awhile. This is the exposition/first installment to that (4.8k words).

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written for these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

“A wedding,” Vincent repeats.

“Yes,” Yves says. “A wedding.”

It’s his cousin Aimee’s wedding—she’s four years older than he is. Back when he’d gone with his family back to France over the summers, she’d been one of the people he’d grown quickly to look up to—someone who knew the ins and outs, it seemed, to every stage of life he was in the process of stumbling through.

Yves has always been used to being looked up to—one of the natural consequences, perhaps, of being the eldest in his immediate family—and he likes to think that he’s good at giving off the impression that he has things figured out. But he’d grown close to Aimee at their family reunions precisely because she was everything he tried to be: strong-willed and resilient, self-sufficient even in the face of hardship.

Aimee’s getting married to Genevieve—someone who Yves has only met a couple times, but who manages to be one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. All in all, it’s a wedding he wouldn’t miss under any circumstances.

Leon, his brother, and Victoire, his sister, will be there, along with Aimee’s friends and the rest of his extended family. The problem is that Leon keeps in touch with Mikhail. Mikhail let slip that Yves has been seeing Vincent. Leon told Victoire, who told Aimee. And now Aimee is offering to pay for Vincent’s plane ticket to their wedding in France in the spring—a bit of a last minute arrangement, but she’d sounded so excited at the prospect that Yves was finally seeing someone new (“I’d love to meet him,” she’d said over the phone, “would it be too much to ask him to take a couple days off work? Oh my gosh, please give me his contact details, I’ll send him an invitation,” and she’d sounded so excited about it that he hadn’t had it in him to turn her down).

“It’s very last minute,” he says, “but my cousin’s getting married, and she really wants to meet you. It’ll be some time in early March, in Provence. She says she’ll pay for your flight, if you want to go, but you’d probably have to take a couple days off.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking at him. “And you want me to be there?”

“Of course I do,” Yves says. “I think it’s more a question of whether you want to be there.”

Vincent looks back at him, his expression carefully blank. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your family? That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that you’d take lightly.”

“They want to meet you,” Yves says. “And I wouldn’t mind introducing you. I think they would really like you.”

“It would be a waste of your time,” Vincent says, quietly, “to introduce me as someone you’re serious about if we’re just planning to break things off.”

Yves is well aware of the fact. This arrangement with Vincent—the trust he places in Vincent; the practiced familiarity, the feigned intimacy—has an expiration date. The fact that he doesn’t know when the expiration date is doesn’t change the fact that it will, inevitably, end—when Erika gets the point, or fades from Yves’s life entirely; when Vincent finds someone he considers worthy of pursuing in actuality; when either of them become interested in dating again. Whatever it is that ends up ending things, Yves knows: what he has with Vincent right now is strictly temporary. 

Perhaps it would be disingenuous to lie to his family about who exactly Vincent is to him. But then again, Yves thinks it isn’t much worse than any other relationship, with all of its ups and downs, all its hopes and uncertainties. It’s not like he can ever guarantee that a relationship is certain to work out, no matter how serious he feels about it in the moment. So is there really any harm to introducing Vincent as his current partner—as someone he feels certain about now, but maybe not always—and to leave it at that?

“It’s not really going to be my day, in the first place,” Yves says. “My relationship status is more of a conversation starter than anything. And even if you go by the timeline we told Erika, we haven’t even been together for a year. I don’t think my family will think much of it other than, like, a small and noncommittal window into what I’ve been up to. So it’s really up to you.”

“I think it would be fun,” Vincent says, “though only if you’re sure about having me there.”

“Great. I’m sure,” Yves says. “Everyone will love you.” He does think it’s true. Something about Vincent tends to have that effect, he thinks.

—

The fact that he and Vincent are traveling together is not exactly a secret.

Vincent agrees it’s best shared on a need-to-know basis—they won’t be the ones to bring it up, but if someone asks about it, they’ll answer honestly. It would be more work, Yves thinks, to have to coordinate lies about this.

But he runs into trouble not even two weeks later.

“So you and Vincent are taking the week off,” Cara says to him carefully, over lunch.

“Yes,” Yves says.

“Any plans?”

“I’m actually flying to France,” Yves tells her, uncertain about whether or not he should mention Vincent’s involvement—if Vincent has talked to Cara about this already, there’s no point in hiding anything, but he should be careful with the information he discloses otherwise. “One of my cousins is getting married there.”

“Oh,” Cara says, all too knowingly. “What a coincidence. Vincent told me he’s also planning on going to France.”

“I… heard,” Yves says, slowly. “He’s told me as much.”

“I didn’t realize France was such a popular tourist destination for march,” Cara says, smiling at him. “I thought most people went over the summer.”

“You know what they say,” Yves says. “France’s beauty knows no seasons.” 

“You should ask Vincent which part of France he’s visiting,” Cara says, with a smirk. “Maybe you guys can book a hotel together.”

Yves is positive he’s being laughed at. “It’s the third largest country in Europe,” he says. “I’m sure the chance of us ending up in the same region is statistically very low.”

“I think Cara knows we’re fake dating,” he laments to Vincent later, in the break room. “I mean, the dating part, not the fake part.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Yves says. He doesn’t think they’ve been that obvious about it. “I just told her I was going to France. She made some undue assumptions.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I told her I was attending a wedding there.”

An impromptu trip to France, over the same week at the tail end of busy season, to attend a wedding. Separately. Yves is starting to understand where Cara's suspicions might’ve come from.

“That would do it,” he says.

Perhaps they really need to coordinate what a need-to-know basis means. Cara is, thankfully, not the type of person to gossip, from what Yves has gathered, but if their coworkers know, that could complicate things. “I don’t think she’ll say anything,” he says. “But I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d assume.”

Vincent seems to consider this. “It’s fine,” he says. “Though it might prove troublesome when we decide to end things.”

“We can figure that out when it happens,” Yves says.  

At some point in the foreseeable future, everything will go back to how it’s always been. Yves had been fine on his own for a long time before he’d met Erika. He’s sure he’ll be prepared for it when it happens.

—

The entire drive to the airport feels surreal.

Mikhail drives them. They leave at the crack of dawn—4am, on the dot. Victoire’s in the passenger seat, dozing off, and Leon, Vincent, and Yves are crammed into the backseat. 

Yves sits in the middle—there’s not much leg room to go around in the first place, but he tries to take up as little space as possible, mostly for Vincent’s sake. He and Leon have been crammed into far smaller cars on far longer road trips.

Leon says, “This is the earliest in the morning I’ve ever third wheeled.”

Victoire, who has her eyes shut, says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent.”

“Likewise,” Vincent says. 

“Yves has told us all about you,” Leon says.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What has he said about me?”

“Mostly that you’re super hot,” Leon says. Yves, who is in a perfect position to elbow him, elbows him for that.

“You make me sound so shallow,” Yves says.

“But also that you’re really good at your job,” Leon continues, patting Yves on the leg. “Did you know Yves likes people who he’s slightly intimidated by?”

“I never said that,” Yves says.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Mikhail says. 

“You guys are conspiring against me,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs. 

Leon launches into a series of questions—about how they met, about who asked who out first, about what it’s like at work, about what kinds of things Vincent does for fun.

“No wonder Yves is totally whipped,” Leon says, after Vincent finishes telling a story about how he’d given a presentation at a conference in place of his then-boss, who had—due to unforeseen flight delays—found out last minute that she wouldn’t have been able to make it on time. Yves hasn’t heard this story before, but it doesn’t surprise him that Vincent would be able to pull that sort of thing off, even with such paralyzingly short notice. “You’re exactly his type.”

Just great. If anyone could dig a nice, fitting grave for him over the span of one conversation, Yves thinks, it would be younger brother. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you over for dinner yet,” Victoire says, her eyes still closed. How much of this conversation she’s actually been awake for, Yves can’t say.

She makes Yves promise that, after their trip to France, Vincent will be over for dinner. (“Sure,” Vincent says. “Just tell me the date in advance. I’ll clear my schedule.” Yves will have to apologize to him after this—for some reason, Vincent has an uncanny talent for ending up invited to half the things Yves is personally involved in.)

Yves is awake enough to hold a conversation, but he finds himself yawning mid-sentence on more than a few occasions. Vincent doesn’t so much as yawn at all over the entirety of the car ride. Yves has no idea if he’s always up this early, or if he’s just naturally immune to tiredness—another signature of his good genetics, next to the fact that he looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, or the fact that he manages to look good in everything he wears. Some people just win the genetic lottery, Yves supposes.

For some reason, he finds he feels a little more tired than usual. Waking up early is never easy, but usually he’d be distinctly more alert by now. There’s a strange, uncharacteristic heaviness to his limbs—it’s the kind of grogginess he only experiences when he hasn’t been getting enough sleep for awhile.

It’s fine. They have an eight hour flight ahead of them—they’ll be flying into Marseille, and then being driven up to Provence, where the wedding will be taking place. He can catch up on sleep over the flight.

As they’re unloading the suitcases from the back trunk, Vincent says, “Your family’s nice.”

Yves laughs. “I’m relieved they haven’t scared you off yet. Sorry for the… well, interrogation, by the way.”

“I can tell you’re close to them,” Vincent says, a little more quietly.

When Yves looks over, something about Vincent’s smile looks almost wistful. Yves wonders, briefly, how well Vincent has kept up with his own family. If he’d ever been packed into the backseat of a small car, back when he’d lived in Korea; if over some long road trip, he’d ever had to come up with increasingly inventive ways to pass the time. If his relatives ever teased him, then, about the crushes he’d had when he was younger, or anything else. If the ocean that was suddenly between them came with another, less tangible kind of distance, the kind that even phone calls and international flights can never quite bridge.

Yves doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know how he’d go about asking if he wanted to know. How is it that sometimes, he feels like he knows so much about Vincent, but other times, he feels like he knows almost nothing at all?

—

Aimee has booked him a seat next to Vincent. 

They’re a few rows away from the others—I wanted to seat everyone together, Aimee had texted him a few weeks back, but when I was booking Vincent’s ticket, the seats up front were all sold out, so I just moved you so you’d be sitting next to him. 

Now, he watches as Vincent pushes his briefcase gingerly into the overhead compartment.

“You must not be new to flying,” he says.

Vincent nods. “I’m not.”

“Eight more hours,” Yves says, taking the middle seat so that Vincent doesn’t have to. “It’ll be over in no time, especially if you take a nap.”

“I have some work to get done,” Vincent says. “Only after the plane takes off, though.”

Right—no electronics larger than a cell phone until they’re 30,000 feet in the air. “I thought this was supposed to be your week off.”

“It is,” Vincent says. “I just want to make sure everything’s still in one piece by the time I get back.”

Yves has never quite been comfortable on planes. It’s not that he’s afraid of flying, or that the turbulence bothers him—it’s more just the cramped space, the noise, the anticipation, the discomfort—all of it compounds. It’s usually difficult to get to sleep, but he’s so tired right now that maybe this flight will be an exception.

There’s just one problem: whoever is in charge of the air conditioning in the airplane cabin really hates him. Compared to Provence, New York’s climate is generally more extreme—colder in the winters, hotter in the summers—so all he has on him right now is a thin jacket. It’d be perfectly reasonable attire in most situations, except for the fact that this airplane in particular is unusually frigid. It’s definitely cold enough to be distinctly uncomfortable, especially considering that he’s just sitting in place. Yves crosses his arms, suppressing a shiver.

“Do you think Aimee will be convinced?” Vincent asks.

“Convinced?”

“That we’re together.”

“I’m sure she has better things to do than play detective over the state of my relationships,” Yves says, with a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s why you invited me,” Vincent says, “is it not?”

“Pardon?”

“To show the rest of your family that you’re not still hung up over Erika.”

“I invited you for a lot of reasons,” Yves says. “For one, you’re good company.”

“So are all your friends.”

“I thought we could both use a week off,” Yves adds. “It’s France, in the springtime. What could be better?”

Vincent says, “I need you to tell me what to do.”

“What?”

“Your cousin paid for my flight,” he lists, counting off his fingers. “Your family is paying for the hotel. Your best friend drove me to the airport.” He says these things as if he’s listing off all the ways in which he’s indebted to them. “It’d be easiest for both of us if you told me how to make a good impression. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Yves blinks. “I don’t think you’d need my help to make a good impression.”

“You could’ve taken anyone with you, but you’re taking me,” Vincent presses. “There has to be something you need me for.”

If there was nothing, you wouldn’t have invited me. The sentiment hangs between them, unspoken. But Yves can see it in Vincent’s expression. 

“My favorite cousin is getting married,” Yves says, fervently. “To her fiancee—who is also super cool, by the way. My whole family is going to be there. Do you think I’d choose to endure an eight hour plane ride sitting next to someone I didn’t like?”

“Maybe,” Vincent says.

Yves shakes his head. “It’s true that my family wants to meet you. But if I didn’t want you to come to France with me, I could’ve come up with an excuse.”

He twists around in his seat so that he’s facing Vincent directly. Narrowly resists the urge to reach out and grab Vincent’s hand. “I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t. You don’t have to do anything out of the ordinary—if you have fun on this trip, that’s more than enough.”

Vincent stares back at him, his eyes wide. 

Yves has a feeling he’s said too much. It isn’t Vincent’s fault for assuming this is all just for show, considering everything that’s come before. Part of it is, but another part of him just really wants Vincent to have fun—to take in the sights at the gorgeous venue Aimee’s sent him pictures of, to have a week off in one of the most picturesque countrysides in the world (Yves may be slightly biased, but still) and not have to think too hard about impressing everyone. 

“Is that… okay with you?” Yves asks.

“Yes,” Vincent says. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry if I misled you, or anything.”

“You didn’t.” This time, Vincent really does smile—a sly, quicksilver thing. “For the record, I am very excited to go to your cousin’s wedding.”

“Thank god,” Yves says. “That’s good. I was beginning to think I was holding you hostage.”

He leans back into his seat, suppressing another shiver. Something about the changing pressure in the airplane cabin is making his head start to ache. It’s probably the elevation. Perhaps he should try to sleep just so that he doesn’t have to sit for eight hours with a headache brewing.

He shuts his eyes and tries. It’s no use. He’s tired, and the cabin is quiet enough, but it’s too cold to get to sleep—it feels impossible to get comfortable like this.

So he picks up a novel he’d been meaning to get to—something suspenseful, to offset the monotony of the flight.

When the seatbelt sign flickers off, Vincent unclips his seatbelt so that he can retrieve his briefcase from one of the overhead compartments, and spends the next half hour paging through multiple documents and leaving notes in the margins at a dizzying pace. Yves slinks down lower into his seat, trying hard not to shiver. 

“Is it just me, or is it kind of cold in here?” 

Vincent frowns at him in a concerned way that seems to suggest that it really is just him. Then again, Vincent is unfazed by New York’s cold winters, so Yves isn’t sure he’s the best point of reference.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asks.

“No,” Yves says quickly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “If you’re certain.”

He turns his attention back to the screen, and Yves resigns himself to reading—or, more accurately, trying and failing to read. It’s mercilessly cold, and his head hurts enough to make focusing on any one thing an uncomfortable task. He gets through another couple chapters, finds himself rereading the same passage over and over again, and—finally, defeated—dog-ears the page and slides the book into the pocket attached to the seat in front of him.

The next time the flight attendants come around, Vincent says something to one of them Yves can’t quite make out. Yves asks for orange juice—it’s not supposed to be symbolic, or anything, but on the off-chance that this headache ends up being a precursor to something more unpleasant, he thinks it might be wise.

The flight attendant pours him the orange juice he’s asked for—no ice (right now, something ice cold is the last thing he needs)—and sets it down on the tray table in front of him. Yves stares down at it, blinking. He hasn’t eaten all day, but strangely, he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He doesn’t register the flight attendant from before—the one Vincent talked to—is back until he hears Vincent’s quiet “thanks” to his left.

Something brushes against his arm.

He looks up. It’s one of those travel blankets they sometimes carry, neatly folded, though this flight hadn’t given them out to everyone at the start. They must be reserved—given only upon request, maybe. 

“You said you were cold,” Vincent—who’s holding out the blanket for him—says, by way of explanation.

Yves blinks at him. He’s about to reassure Vincent, instinctively, that it’s not that cold—that he would’ve been fine without the blanket, that Vincent didn’t have to go out of his way to ask for one.

But his head hurts. He hasn’t been warm all flight. To say that the blanket is a relief would be a massive understatement.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it. “This is perfect. I won’t be cold with this.”

He ends up wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tightly around him—like a cloak, or like the jacket that he might have brought with him if he’d had the foresight to anticipate feeling this cold on a commercial flight.

It’s nice. He’s still a little cold, with the blanket, but it’s enough to keep him from openly shivering.

He should really try to get some sleep, he thinks. It’s going to be evening in France when they land. A seat away from him, the window shutters are pulled up, but he can see, from the crevices around the window, that it’s light out.

“I’m going to try to nap,” he tells Vincent. “But wake me up if I need anything—elbow me if you have to. I’m not usually a heavy sleeper.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“You can wake me whenever,” Yves says, muffling a yawn into his hand. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent smiles at him, the kind of smile that implies he thinks he’s working exactly as hard as he should be. “No promises.”

It’s not easy to get to sleep, despite his exhaustion. He lays there for a while, his eyes shut—it’s certainly warmer with the blanket, but for some reason, he feels strangely restless. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being here, with his family, with Vincent—on the way to see one of the most important people in his life get married. Maybe it’s the cup of black coffee he’d downed this morning to be awake enough to help Mikhail navigate and, subsequently, awake enough to actually be useful at the airport.

In the end, he falls asleep to the static hum of the aircraft, to the sound of Vincent hammering away at his keyboard next to him, incessant and comforting.

—

Yves wakes to someone tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m up.”

“A ‘light sleeper,’ you said,” Vincent says. “We just landed.”

Yves says, “I’m wide awake.” The yawn that he hides behind one hand is apparently not subtle enough, because when Vincent looks away from him in favor of staring straight ahead, it looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Vincent’s stowed away his laptop already—Yves hopes that’s a sign that he’s done with work for the duration of this trip, but more likely he just had to put it away for landing.

“How was the flight for you?” Yves says.

Vincent looks at him. “Uneventful,” he says, at last.

“Not enthralled by all the financial records you had to go through?”

“They were very enthralling. How was your nap?”

“Good,” Yves says, even though he doesn’t feel particularly rested. He’s just groggy, probably, and the headache is just as bad as it was, if not worse. He’s sure once he gets off the plane and gets some fresh air, he’ll feel much better. “I probably needed it.” His breath hitches, unexpectedly, he turns to the side, raising his arm to his face to shield the oncoming—

“hH-’IZscHH’iew!” 

The sneeze is loud, embarrassingly, and it scrapes unpleasantly against his throat, which feels… off.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, frowning. He looks more concerned than he has any right to be.

Yves flashes Vincent a distracted smile. “Thanks.”

Everything—from the moment they step off the plane—is exhaustingly hectic. 

The hotel in Provence is more than an hour away from the airport they’ve landed at. They have a bus to catch, which means that after they regroup with the others, it’s international customs, baggage claim, and then they’re headed, maneuvering multiple suitcases each, onto the bus. He sits next to Vincent, though on the aisle side, so that he can lean over and interject whenever Leon and Victoire say something that’s worth commenting on.

Other than that, he talks with Vincent, mostly—about Aimee, about how she’s been in his life for longer than he’s known how to write his name, back when his parents would take him back to France once or twice a year. (“She was practically an older sister to me,” he says, “except we never fought,” to which Vincent says, “You make it sound like not getting along is a requirement to be siblings,” to which Yves says, “It definitely is.”)

His parents flew into France yesterday, so they should be settled in already—they’ll catch up with them at the hotel tonight, if it’s not too late. He probably won’t see Aimee and Genevieve until tomorrow morning, at breakfast—and even then, that depends on how busy they are with the various wedding preparations Aimee’s been telling him about.

The roads nearing the hotel are uneven and winding. Halfway through the drive, Yves registers, faintly, that he isn’t really feeling any better from before. His head is still hurting from the flight, and when he swallows, he finds his throat feels perhaps the slightest bit sore.

He’s cold, too, in the sort of uncomfortable, persistent way that’s difficult to alleviate, even with extra layers or with a warm drink. He’s starting to suspect that maybe the airplane cabin hadn’t been the problem after all.

None of that is particularly visible to any of the others—that is, until he finds himself tensing up halfway through a sentence, burying his head into the crook of his elbow as his eyes squeeze shut—

“God, sorry, I— hh-! hHehh’iiZZSCHh’iiEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent, Victoire, and Leon say to him, all at once.

“You’d better not be getting sick,” Leon says, turning to him, with the sort of tone that implies that he’s joking. “That would really be the worst timing.”

“I’m not,” Yves says, swallowing against the soreness in his throat. “I promise.” Or, perhaps more accurately—he can’t be.

It will be the perfect wedding, he thinks. Aimee has planned it out meticulously, and she’s one of the most thorough people he knows. The weather forecast says this week will be sunny and temperate. He’s here, in France. Tomorrow, he’ll be surrounded by his extended family, and in the afternoon he and Vincent will head off to the welcome party, and he’ll get to give Aimee the gifts he’s gotten for her and introduce Vincent to everyone formally. Everything will go as planned—the welcome party, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and on Saturday, the wedding and the vows.

It will be perfect, because it has to be. Yves will be present, and attentive, and he’ll give the speech he has prepared at Aimee’s wedding, and they’ll all remember this week fondly. Even considering the small, almost negligible chance that he’s coming down with something, there are more important things he has to worry about right now, which is to say: Yves is going to do this right.

He’s going to make sure of it. 

[ Part 2 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i'm sorry if this exposition is like #comparatively uneventful 😭😭😭 #this entire fic was written with the intent of giving people-pleaser yves the worst time possible #so i promise that is to come... in the future (if i have the time and bandwidth to write more and if people want to read more) #yvverse #my fic #fun fact - i used to refuse to write characters with anything worse than a cold (the flu included) just as principle #clearly that changed over the years haha

[avatar-anna]

summary: harry is oblivious

reposting because i may have accidentally deleted the original!

part one

"Please? I think you'll really like it if you give it a chance."

Harry shuffled uncomfortably as he stood by his car. He and Y/n were just leaving the pub they normally met at. They had a couple drinks together and talked, a typical date for the pair. They usually went their separate ways afterward, but this time Y/n had asked if he would come back to her place to watch a movie. Her favorite movie apparently.

"I don't know. Romance movies aren't really my thing," he said. The idea of sitting down and watching some sappy romance film for two hours was not at all his idea of a good time. He felt like by telling her no, he was sparing her his negative feelings and commentary about the film while they watched it.

"But it's more than a romance movie. Pride and Prejudice is a masterpiece. The acting and the story are out of this world, and the music is amazing. It—It's my favorite movie."

Harry felt really awkward. He liked spending time with Y/n, but he also really didn't want to see this movie.

Y/n could see on his face that he wasn't at all interested in watching her favorite movie with her. It hurt, seeing as she felt she was constantly going out of her comfort zone to do things he wanted to do—going to loud bars that played even louder music that wasn't exactly her favorite, seeing bands at dark clubs that had lots of smoke in them and sticky bar tops, hanging out with his friends at a different dive bar—but she wasn't going to force him to do something he didn't want to.

"You know what? I'm actually pretty tired. I don't know if I would stay up through a whole film anyway," she said, faking a yawn.

Harry, totally buying the lie, nodded. "Me too. I'll talk to you later?"

He kissed her goodbye, and they both went their separate ways. On the drive back, Y/n thought about the last month. It was good. The more she and Harry spent time together, the more she liked him. And she saw him regularly since he wasn't touring at the moment. They met at bars and pubs, or the park with his goddaughter, Lucy. And it was great, but as she got ready to meet Harry tonight, she thought about how she was always going out of her way to do what Harry wanted. Sure it was just going to the same pub a couple nights a week, but she wanted more. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it? She thought that by inviting him over to watch one of her favorite movies, they could spend their time a little differently, and maybe she could share a piece of herself with Harry.

And maybe even get him to stay the night.

Because of Lucy, Harry couldn't really spend the night. And since Y/n didn't like leaving her animals unattended, nor did she want to make things uncomfortable for Harry's goddaughter, she hadn't spent the night at his place, either. But this time Y/n knew for a fact that Lucy was at a sleepover. So she took more time to get ready for her date with Harry tonight in the hopes that he'd taken her up on her offer.

But he didn't, and now Y/n wasn't really sure how to feel. Perhaps she could've suggested a different movie, but now she just wanted to go home and overthink.

Harry didn't have to have the same taste in movies as her, she knew that, but she just wished he had said yes.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A week later, Harry was texting Y/n while he was waiting to pick Lucy up from school.

Usually, every time a text came from her, butterflies erupted in his stomach. But for some reason, Y/n was taking longer to respond than usual. The text bubbles kept coming up, then disappearing, coming up, then disappearing. All he'd asked her was if she wanted to see one of his friends play at the pub downtown. Normally she immediately said yes, but now she was taking ages to respond. Harry had never been the type to fret over whether or not a girl would text him back, but the longer Y/n took to respond, the more his palms began to sweat.

Y/n: I'm not feeling well. Raincheck?

That made him nervous. Y/n hardly said no. If she was sick, she was sick, but this was the second time she'd said no to going on a date. Harry knew it had only been a month, but he really, really liked her. She was so kind, and so beautiful, and had such a gentle soul. He'd never felt so drawn to someone before, which was odd considering how different they were on paper. But she made him smile like no one else, and he wanted to make it work. And now she'd rejected him twice in the span of a week.

In a desperate move he didn't really think through, he pulled up Y/n's contact and called her. It took a couple of rings, but she eventually picked up.

"Harry. Hey."

Even hearing her voice brought a smile to his face. "Hi. Is everything okay?"

"Uh...Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I think I'm just coming down with something," she said.

Harry frowned. Y/n didn't sound sick, she sounded nervous. "Are you sure that's it? If I'm coming on too strong, and you want to slow down, you can tell me."

It was hard to admit, but maybe he was coming on too strong. He and Y/n hadn't been together all that long. Maybe by asking to hang out so much, she was starting to get sick of him. He hoped that wasn't the case.

"No, that's not it. That's not it at all," she said, but didn't elaborate.

"Well then what is it?"

"I—I know that you like me, and I don't doubt that you like me, but...I just feel like we only do things you want to do...If that makes sense."

The butterflies in his stomach died when she said that. That wasn't true, was it? "I—I don't—Is this about me not coming over to watch that movie with you the other day?"

"Kind of? I just feel like we're always going to the pub or out to a bar for drinks, or watching rock bands play in loud clubs, and I'm cool with that because I like spending time with you, but that's not really my thing. Like at all. I was trying to share something I enjoy with you by inviting you over, and you kind of just shut me down immediately," Y/n said. She sounded hesitant, like she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I—" Was this really how she felt? "I just thought I was doing you a favor. I don't like those kinds of movies, so I didn't want to ruin it for you. I—I thought I was being nice."

"Okay, well let me do you a favor. I don't like loud, dingy bars, so I'm staying home tonight."

How the hell did they end up here? Harry just wanted to spend time with Y/n, and now she was angry with him. Why did him not wanting to watch a movie matter so much?

"Y/n, I don't—"

"I get it, Harry. We can only hang out if it's something you want to do," she said. "I'll talk to you later."

And then she hung up.

Harry was more confused than upset. He thought things were good, but clearly he was wrong.

"Hey, Wiggles!"

The back door to his car opened, and Lucy slid inside, strapping herself into her seat. It took Harry a second to recover from the phone call and respond to Lucy, but that was all it took for her to notice something was wrong.

"What's up with you?"

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the school parking lot.

“It’s Y/n isn’t it?” Lucy replied. “Did she break up with you?”

“No! Just drop it, Lucy,” Harry said, a tad bit too harshly.

Lucy did finally stop talking, crossing her arms and looking out the window angrily. Harry immediately felt bad, but he was too pissed off and upset by his phone call with Y/n to apologize.

The drive to Harry’s house was awkward and quiet, a rare occurrence for the two of them. Lucy usually told Harry all about her classmates and everything they did to annoy her at school that day.

When they finally made it, Harry opened the door for Lucy. She stormed past him without a word, opening the front door to his house and slamming it. Sighing, Harry grabbed his goddaughter's backpack and followed her inside. It seemed he had some making up to do with both of his favorite girls.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Lucy. I’m sorry. Please let me in,” Harry said from the other side of the door.

Lucy had her own room in his house, as she often stayed with him. He spoiled her rotten, her bedroom every kid her age’s dream. Well, kind of. Lucy was a neat freak and had a decaf coffee addiction, so her room was spotless and had minimal toys, but it was what she wanted, so Harry of course gave it to her. He was currently on the outside of it, though, waiting for his goddaughter to let him in.

“Go away.”

Leaning his head against the door, Harry took a deep breath before saying, “You were right. My mood was because of Y/n.”

Harry knew that admitting Lucy was right was a sure way to get her to open the door. And it worked, the door clicking open a couple seconds later. Her eyes were red, and Harry’s heart melted at the sight. He hated making Lucy upset.

Sniffling, she asked, “What did you do?”

“Now, why do you assume it was something I did?” he asked with a grin.

Lucy rolled her eyes, recovering quickly. “Because you're a man. Duh.”

“Well, why don't I explain, and you can tell me what I did wrong," he suggested, hoisting her up onto his hip. She was a little old for that, but she enjoyed being carried from place to place every now and again.

Harry set her down in the kitchen so he could start on dinner. Lucy “managed” as she always did, watching as he moved about the kitchen. While he cooked, he loosely explained his phone call with Y/n. Perhaps it was a little odd to be confiding in a ten year old, but Lucy liked being included and Harry didn't really mind sharing.

“I’d be mad at you too,” Lucy finally said.

“I don’t get why, though,” Harry said. “I thought things were fine.”

“Have you ever taken Y/n out on an actual date?”

That stopped Harry in his tracks. “What do you mean? Of course we've been on dates.”

Lucy's face was completely unconvinced. “I think your idea of a date and the rest of the female population’s idea of a date might be very different. Maybe she feels like just another one of your friends.”

Squinting down at his goddaughter, Harry said, “What do you know about dating, hm? Do I need to scare off any boys? Girls?”

Harry teased and played with Lucy the rest of the night. When she went to bed, though, he had much to think about.

Was he not a good boyfriend? Harry thought he and Y/n were getting along really well, but maybe Lucy had a point. Maybe meeting and talking at pubs wasn't enough. What did Y/n call them? Dingy? How did he not realize that she wouldn't like something like that? He'd never been the dating type, so he didn't really know what to do when it came to this kind of thing. He thought just spending time together would be sufficient, but apparently not.

Y/n gardened and sold flowers for a living. She had a pet cow and taught Lucy how to make flower crowns and crochet little hats and bandanas. She wore pastels and pink and champagne-colored shimmer on her eyes. How did he ever think that she would enjoy a dark bar that only served three kinds of beer or a concert with a mosh pit? Harry liked them just fine, but that made him even more aware of the fact that he was so different than Y/n.

Curiously, Harry turned on his TV as he got into bed. He searched for the movie Y/n had wanted to watch with him, hoping to understand her better.

Harry was sure he would fall asleep as the opening song began to play, but he didn't. He stayed up for the whole thing, watching aptly as the story played out.

Much to his surprise, Harry actually liked the movie. He didn't think that historical romance movies would be something he would enjoy, but there was something about it. The longing, the earnestness, and yes, he had to admit that the love story that played throughout was good too, and he could see someone like Y/n loving everything about this movie.

But it also had him thinking. Was that what Y/n wanted? A Mr. Darcy type? Most of Harry’s upper body was covered in tattoos, his hair was long and unruly, he once had an eyebrow piercing. He was in no way anything like the main character. He was clearly in no way a romantic. What did Y/n see in him?

Before he could think, Harry picked up the phone and called Y/n. She picked up after two rings.

“Harry? It's kind of late. What are you—”

“I’m not like him,” he said abruptly.

“Like who?”

“That guy in the movie. I’m not like him at all. And I—I don’t want to be. I like who I am.”

“I like who you are too, Harry,” she said, not acknowledging the fact that he watched her favorite movie. "Do you—Do you think I don't like you?"

"Well, no, I just thought because you love this movie so much was because of what's his name—"

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yeah him. He's all posh and stuff, and I—"

"While I find your insecurity slightly adorable, I'm gonna have to stop you," Y/n said. "Harry, I didn't ask you to watch the movie with me because I was trying to change you or anything like that. I just wanted to spend time with you outside of a club or dive bar."

"Oh," Harry said. Well that was a lot more sensible than his downward spiral.

"Yeah 'Oh.' Do you really think I'm that shallow?"

Blushing, he said, "No."

"Good. Now, aside from that, did you like it?"

Harry stayed up longer than he normally did to talk to Y/n about the movie, and a bunch of other things. By the end of the second hour, he knew it was getting a little late, but he didn't want to hang up.

"If you're up for it, maybe we could watch a movie together instead of going to that dingy pub on Friday," he said, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry for being so mean earlier. I enjoy spending time with you so much, I just—"

"I know, I get it now. Our dates need a little more variety. And less loud music"

"Well, maybe more than a little variety," Y/n joked. "Maybe I can plan the next date? No romance movies, I promise."

Something in Harry settled at her suggestion. "That sounds nice. If I wasn't obvious, I'm kind of terrible at this dating stuff."

"You're not terrible. You're very sweet, and you watched my favorite movie all by yourself. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't care."

Harry blushed. "Thanks."

"Not to mention all the tattoos and the long hair and the muscles and the eye liner—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Thank you, and thank you for being honest," Harry said. He really did appreciate her honesty instead of just giving up on him altogether.

"Of course. And next time follow my lead when I invite you over late at night to watch a movie, okay? Odds are, we probably won't be watching much of anything."

Y/n hung up before Harry could respond. His eyes were wide as he stared at his hands in disbelief. He really was an idiot.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles blurb

[eclectiaa]

A BAD GUY — K. Ayato

Note: This is something I previously posted on my old account but I like it enough to repost.

Contents: Modern!AU, Fem!Reader x Kamisato Ayato

You became fast friends with Ayaka freshman year. You’re not sure what it was, you just clicked. Perhaps it was her kindness that pushed you to talk to her, or her oddly endearing naivety despite being one of the smartest people in your year. Whatever it was, you’re more than grateful to call her a friend. You have a lot of fun with her, you talk about everything, and you always have each other’s back. In short, you love her to bits. If there’s a problem, it’s certainly not her.

…It’s her older brother.

Everyone is always gushing over him. He’s amazing. He’s so talented. He’s so handsome…

He’s a walking cliché, that’s what he is. Student council president, most likely to be valedictorian, the guy everyone trusts, even the teachers. He’s always getting homemade desserts, cooked up in home economics by classmates and underclassmen alike. Valentine’s especially was absolute madness. Everyone went out of their way to do something for him, trying to get his attention by putting extra effort in their gifts. Then they squealed in happiness when he accepted the offerings and thanked them, as though he bestowed a great honor upon them.

But he’s just so fake. Even though he’s always smiling, it never quite reaches his eyes, and the way he looks at people is so…calculating. How does no one see it?

You’ve been to Ayaka’s house plenty of times by now, and Ayato has been very polite towards you. Still, you can never feel fully at ease whenever he’s around, as though your every move is being carefully watched. The only reason you’ve never said anything is because it’s just your hunch, you’ve never had any real proof of him being anything but perfect.

That is until one day when you’re on cleaning duty and you happen upon something that you were not supposed to see. Your partner for the day would not stop talking, telling you grandiose stories about how he beat another school’s football team all by himself, and how he almost died the other day at the cafeteria when he ordered a special drink that he didn’t know contained beans, which he is allergic to.

Needing a break from the chatter, you offer to take the trash out. The dumpsters are at the back of the school, so it’s quite a walk there, but you’re all too happy to get some peace and quiet.

On your way there, you pass by the student council room. The door is only a bit ajar but you see it all too clearly when, out of habit, you peer inside. Kamisato Ayato is standing there, carrying a load of gifts in his arms to the trash and dumping them in.

You’re so shocked by such a mean action that it makes you drop what you’re holding. Stupid you, because it immediately alerts him of your presence.

Oh, and he is not smiling. Without stopping to think, you pick up what you can and bolt down the hallway before he can say anything.

It gnaws at you for days. Did you see it wrong? No, those clear plastic wrappers were definitely filled with uneaten goodies. One afternoon, Ayaka catches you gnawing on your lip and she asks what’s wrong. You just stare at her for a moment, not knowing what to do. It makes her repeat herself, more worried this time.

“Ayaka…about Ayato-senpai—”

“Hm, what about me?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, whipping around so fast you should get whiplash. There he is with his usual smile, but you swear there’s a twitch of agitation behind those blue eyes.

“Elder brother!”

“Did [Name] tell you the good news, Ayaka?” He smiles a bit more genuinely as he strokes his little sister’s hair despite her protests that he’ll mess it up. “She’ll be joining the student council.”

And just like that, you get roped into the job. It’s definitely for the purpose of keeping an eye on you. You try to protest, but apparently there’s nothing you can do when Ayato decides to use his power to pull the strings.

Frankly, Ayato doesn’t care if you tell someone else—they wouldn’t believe you anyway—but he doesn’t need his sister knowing the less than stellar parts of him.

It’s being on the council that gives you a front-row seat to the enigma that is Kamisato Ayato. He’s still mostly unreadable but, as time goes by, it’s hard to miss the way that he cares about his fellow students. It’s outright impossible to miss his workload—the sheer amount shows how much everyone relies on him—and the pressure he’s constantly under.

It clearly weighs on him more than he lets on, which worries you a bit, though you’re a bit scared to bring it up.

Turns out, you don’t have to. One afternoon, when things become a bit too much, Ayato lets you see a glimpse at the real him. Everyone else left already and, figuring that you’ve already seen through his performance anyway, he doesn’t bother hiding his real feelings from you, baring his annoyances and all. He gripes about a particular teacher that passes off too much of their own responsibility and ones that are too longwinded. You sit with him and talk for a long time, quite enthralled by this new side of him, raw and genuine.

Before long, it becomes custom for the two of you to be the last ones to leave in the afternoon. You get to see him in a new light and, at some point, you ask him the thing that you still haven’t quite figured out: Why did he throw away the gifts he got?

Ayato looks away and, with a sigh, tells you that he’s quite a picky eater and he can’t stomach some of the food he gets. Gifting it to someone else would get noticed easily, so throwing it away is the best way to avoid anyone’s feelings getting hurt. You study the slight pout to his mouth and realise with a start that he’s embarrassed.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him act so much like a little kid and you suddenly burst into laughter. Wiping a tear from your eye, you apologise to him for laughing about it and, when Ayato returns a wry smile, you feel like you’ve gotten a bit closer.

This doesn’t go unnoticed, of course. There are some upperclassmen that don’t take so kindly to you stealing all of Ayato’s “attention”. They make a point to tell you in the most hurtful ways possible, hounding you every day whenever you’re alone.

It gets so bad that you consider resigning for a few days before they come to you groveling, begging for forgiveness.

You’re not quite sure what happened but you can guess. That afternoon, your face feels warm and it’s hard to look Ayato in the eye.

Even worse, you find yourself thinking of him while making cookies in home economics, adding the cranberries that he seems to like so much, before your stomach drops. What are you even thinking? He doesn’t want to eat these.

Except when you’re handing them out to the council, he steals them all for himself without a word. The others chuckle, but you’re not quite sure what they find so funny. Your heart does flips in a way it’s never done before, though.

Ayaka notices that something is different. You’ve never really warmed up to her brother but that seems to be changing. She’s pleased that two people so important to her are getting along.

It’s around this time that the talkative boy in your class confesses to you.

“It’s not really my business,” Ayato says when you ask him what you should do. Your eyes sting as you turn away. Frankly, why did you even bother asking him? You’re alone again in the council room and being with him just makes you feel a certain type of way. No, not ‘a certain’...you know exactly what you’re feeling. Maybe that’s why the words just slipped from your mouth and you’re so hopeful that he’ll say something.

You don’t know why you had any expectations at all.

Ayaka can tell Ayato is in a bad mood though. He comes back home that day and barely registers when she asks how his day’s been. It’s weird to see him so out of it, and she wonders if it has anything to do with her classmate Itto.

Of course, you have to turn him down. You’ve fallen for someone else and can’t lead him on. Except after you’ve said your piece, he remains a bit pushy. That’s when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders.

“She’s not interested,” a cold voice cuts in blithely, effectively scaring away your suitor.

“Ayato?”

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #ayato x y/n #ayato x you #ayato fluff #mine

[anonymousewrites]

Portal to My Heart (Book 3) Chapter Nine

Loki x Reader

Chapter Nine: Upon Meeting Variants

Summary: Loki and (Y/N) go after Timely and have to fight a friend to get to him.

            Mobius, (Y/N), and Loki stepped out of the building into the streets of the World Fair. Renslayer was walking away with Timely, and Mobius bolted towards them. Loki just saluted to the man he had put in the pig cage, and (Y/N) snickered before rushing up to Timely and Renslayer with Mobius.

            “Mr. Timely, my associates and I want to discuss a business venture,” said Mobius hurriedly.

“It’s thrilling,” said Loki.

            “Fellas, we are discussing business,” said Renslayer, glaring at the group.

            “Renslayer, this is only gonna take a minute,” said Mobius.

            “Do you all know each other?” asked Timely.

            “It’s complicated,” said (Y/N), shrugging, the most calm and balanced person there.

            “Timely!” shouted a man, getting in his way. “I want my money back, Timely. These trousers don’t work.”

            “Councilman, what are you talking about?” said Timely. “You look taller than me. I told you these were a prototype.”

            Behind them, there was the sound of a device clanking and a slight explosion. Another prototype. Fantastic, thought (Y/N), realizing the scam Timely had successfully pulled on the businessman.

            “Perhaps I could come by next week, maybe adjust the settings,” offered Timely.

            “Next week?” said the councilman.

            “Next week. Fine,” said Timely, nodding.

            “Fine.”

            “Fine.”

            The councilman walked off, having been duped once more.

            “Nice trick,” said (Y/N), grinning. “You’re a good scammer.”

            “Luminary is the word you’re looking for,” said Timely.

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Loki, I think he’s reminding me of 2012 you. All about the right titles and everything. Twisting words and all that.”

            Loki didn’t look impressed whatsoever.

            “My ideas are just ahead of their time,” said Timely.

            “I don’t think mechanic trousers every caught on even in my time,” remarked (Y/N). “And we had men in spandex fighting with frisbees.”

            “Oh, no, I think your ideas are wonderful,” said Renslayer, trying to butter him up.

            “Fighting with frisbees?” asked Timely, a bit interested.

            “It’s not that impressive,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “Perhaps I just need the crude technology of this era to catch up with my visionary mind,” said Timely.

            “You’re not wrong,” said (Y/N).

            Loki nodded emphatically. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he could see that Renslayer wasn’t getting as much attention, and that’s what they needed. (Y/N) always knew what to say (well, when she wasn’t running her mouth, that is).

            “Enlightened people always understand vision,” said Timely, nodding.

            “Your inventions are fake, Timely!” shouted the businessman. He companions were glaring at the showman.

            Timely paused. “Excuse me.” He ran for it.

            “I’ll wipe that smile off your face!” shouted the businessman, and he and his gang ran after Timely. “Stop that man! He’s a thief!”

            “Shit,” said (Y/N) as chaos began. This was always how things ended for them. “I’m so glad I wore comfortable shoes.” She took off with Loki and Mobius after Timely with Renslayer hot on their heels.

            (Y/N) and Loki were faster than the others and darted in front, and when Timely successfully trapped the men on one of the ferris wheel compartments, they caught up to him in front of an empty carriage.

            Loki caught him before he could run. “You’re clearly really good at getting away.”

            “Look, Timely, we need to talk to yo—ooh!” (Y/N) jumped back when a green sword appeared in front of them and went for Timely.

            Immediately, (Y/N) jumped in front, and the tip of the sword rested on her chest. She put her hands up and faced Sylvie.

            “Don’t do this,” said (Y/N).

            “Sylvie, no!” said Loki, eyes flicking between the sword and (Y/N). He remembered too easily (Y/N)’s blood on his hands.

            “You stay out of this,” said Sylvie, trying to get around (Y/N) but unwilling to harm her.

            (Y/N) pushed Timely back into the carriage before Sylvie could harm him, and Sylvie stalked forward, but Loki and (Y/N) got onboard before the doors closed. Loki and (Y/N) pushed Timely behind them and held up their hands as the carriage began moving. They needed to talk to Sylvie, get her to think for a moment.

            “Just wait. Just wait a second,” said Loki.

            “Please, Sylvie, listen to us,” said (Y/N).

            “You’ve done enough! Get out of my way and let me finish the job!” said Sylvie, glaring.

            She stabbed at Timely, but (Y/N) moved forward. Sylvie’s eyes widened, and she diverted her attack at the same time Loki grabbed her and pushed her back with green magic.

            “When you should up out of nowhere to ruin my life, you asked me what I would do if one of his variants turned up,” said Sylvie. “And I told you then, I’d kill him.”

            “What is going on?!” cried Timely.

            “Sylvie, we need him. Without him, the TVA will be destroyed,” said (Y/N).

            “Good! Let it burn!” snapped Sylvie.

            “The TVA,” stammered Timely. He pulled something out of his pocket and held up a familiar orange handbook. “The Time Variance Authority.”

            Sylvie lunged, but once again, she couldn’t get past Loki and (Y/N) without hurting them.

            “I know you just want to be left alone to live a life on your branch,” said Loki. “I understand that. But if the Loom fails and the TVA is destroyed, there won’t be a life to go back to!”

            “This is about everyone in all the branches left, Sylvie! This is about protecting lives!” said (Y/N) forcefully. “Don’t you see that we need him to do that?”

            Sylvie raised a hand, and Timely was pinned against the window in the air while she looked on. “Stopping that place from being destroyed and fixing it are two very, very different things,” she snapped. “And working with one of his variants is not gonna get you either.”

            “Your machete hasn’t solved any problems thus far,” said Loki, narrowing his eyes.

            “Do you think I want to be here?” said Sylvie. “Do you think I’m gonna get any joy out of killing that man?”

            “Then don’t!” shouted (Y/N).

            Sylvie pulled the TVA handbook to her and flung it at Loki and (Y/N). “Where do you think he got that book? If you and the TVA hadn’t messed with him, he’d have remained harmless. But instead, you weaponized him.”

            “What are you talking about?” questioned Loki.

            “Renslayer set him on a path he wasn’t meant for,” snapped Sylvie. “And now you are waltzing him straight back to the TVA. The thief of all free will. The most dangerous man who ever lived!”

            “Sylvie, we have never met this man in our lives, and that handbook has nothing to do with us,” said (Y/N). “We never heard the name Victor Timely until today.”

            “We were shocked when we saw his face,” said Loki. He threw up his hands in frustration. “Maybe we should throw him off this ferris wheel! But we need him. The TVA needs him. All those people who could die need him!” With magic, Loki realized Timely, and he fell to the ground.

            “Sylvie, just like you and Loki aren’t the same person, Timely doesn’t have to be another He Who Remains!” said (Y/N). “Nothing bad has to happen to anyone!”

            “You haven’t got a clue, have you?” sneered Sylvie.

            She ran forward, and (Y/N) shoved Timely away while Loki used magic to redirect Sylvie.

            “Those lives—your home—are in danger,” said (Y/N). “And he’s our best hope to save them!”

            Sylvie glared and shook her sword, but there was a glint of sadness in her eyes. “This is all very familiar, isn’t it?” Her anger broke to desperation and exhaustion. “I can’t let him live.”

            She raised her hands, and green magic collects. Loki did the same, and the two stared at each other for a moment. Then they fired. (Y/N)’s adrenaline spiked, and she lurched forward, and a portal opened up to land her in front of Loki. She pushed him away and took the attack from Sylvie while Sylvie flew back from Loki’s. (Y/N) tumbled back out of the Ferris wheel carriage that had arrived back at the bottom.

            Timely, Loki, and (Y/N) hit the ground hard and groaned while the crowd gasped in shock. Sylvie’s eyes widened in horror as she once again saw (Y/N) take a hit for a He Who Remains variant and got hurt because of her. Loki immediately scrambled up and to her side to check on. His heart beat a million miles a minute at the fear of holding her dying body again.

            “I’m okay, I’m okay. Just getting one hell of a bruise,” said (Y/N), putting her hand over Loki’s. She knew what he was remembering.

            “Mr. Timely!” Renslayer emerged from the crowd and knelt beside Timely to help him up. “Mr. Timely, are you okay?”

            The crowd pressed in around them all, anxious to see what had happened. Mobius shoved to the front and looked at Loki and (Y/N) worriedly.

            “Are you two okay?” he asked.

            “Fine, fine,” said (Y/N).

            “We’re alright,” said Loki.

            “Get out of my way!” The businessman was still angry at Timely and shoving his way down the stairs of the Ferris wheel. Sylvie stood at the top staring down at them.

            “Where is Timely?” said (Y/N), whirling around herself in the crowd.

            “Aaah!” A roar of anger grabbed all attention as a ghostly clock grew as tall as the Ferris Wheel. “Boo!” shouted Miss Minutes.

            Screams went up from the crowd, and the people of 1893 ran for their lives.

            “You better run!” said Miss Minutes, chasing after them.

            Loki and (Y/N) grabbed each other to keep from being swept off by the panicked crowd. Renslayer pulled Timely up and began to push him away from the streets.

            “This is on you,” snapped Sylvie, glaring at Loki. Her gaze softened on (Y/N) as she momentarily looked for any wounds on her. Sylvie wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself if she hurt (Y/N) again.

            “Loki, (Y/N), come on!” shouted Mobius.

l

            “A version of you created the TVA. But two variants of the same Norse god and a human variant murdered him, which resulted in the creation of new timelines, which would each see the rebirth of countless different versions of you,” explained Renslayer.

            “Are you saying I created the TVA?” asked Timely.

            “Something like that,” said Renslayer.

            “I know this must be overwhelming,” said Miss Minutes. “If it’s too much for you—”

            “No,” said Timely. “It’s like the story of myself that I always imagined is true.”

            “Did you hear the murder part?” asked Renslayer. “That is why you need me by your side.” She reached out to him, but Timely didn’t react. “I’ll keep you safe.”

            “And the two of you work for the TVA?” questioned Timely.

            “Well, even before the TVA or her, you created me!” chirped Miss Minutes proudly. “And we worked together at the End of Time. I’m here because I know what a great man you can become.”

            “And you, Mrs…” Timely trailed off.

            “Miss Ravonna,” said Renslayer.

            “Miss Ravonna,” said Timely.

            “I’m just looking to restore stability to the TVA,” said Renslayer. “Our Loom, a device not unlike your prototype onstage, it’s in trouble. And it needs you.”

            “That’s not dissimilar to what the wizard gentleman and the young woman in blue said to me,” said Timely. “Why aren’t the two of you in cahoots with them and their butler?”

            “They can’t be trusted,” said Renslayer.

            “Why not?” asked Timely.

            “Loki and (Y/N) helped murder your variant,” said Miss Minutes.

            “But they protected me. And (Y/N) made some quite good points. It seemed like she was trying to protect lives in some way,” said Timely. “They didn’t seem like they wanted to do anything but help people. Certainly not hurt me.” Loki and that woman, Sylvie, he fought seemed a bit strange, but every time (Y/N) had spoken, it had been clear and to the point. He felt like she was telling the truth.

            There was a banging on the door before they could continue.

            “Time to go,” said Timely, standing up.

            “Don’t you want to see who it is?” asked Renslayer.

            “Timely! Open this door!” demanded the furious businessman.

            “We could just take a Time Door,” said Renslayer.

            “Are you crazy? They’ll track us,” said Miss Minutes.

            “It won’t matter if we go straight to the TVA,” said Renslayer.

            “I’m not going anywhere until I have my latest prototype,” said Timely decisively. He opened a cupboard to expose a secret way out.

            “Okay. Pack it up. Let’s go,” said Renslayer.

            “It’s at my lab across the lake,” said Timely.

            “The lake?” said Renslayer.

            “You’ll love it. It’s like the Caribbean of the Midwest,” said Timely. Then he clambered through his escape hatch. Renslayer had no option but to follow.

            The moment they ducked out, they found themselves face-to-face with (Y/N), Mobius, and Loki.

            “They’ve tracked us!” said Renslayer. “Run!” She grabbed Timely and pulled him with her.

            (Y/N), Loki, and Mobius chased after them. They rounded a corner and found no one but the businessman and his angry compatriots.

            “Where are they?” said Loki, spinning around.

            “No idea,” said (Y/N).

            “Can you do the thing you did with Brad?” asked Loki.

            “Not on command,” said (Y/N).

            “He’s mine, rat bags,” sneered the businessman.

            “I beg your pardon?” said Loki, raising an eyebrow.

            Mobius just sighed. “Go ahead.”

            Loki blasted the businessman with magic, and he disappeared.

            “Take him, he’s all yours!” shouted the now-scared thugs.

            Mobius, (Y/N), and Loki split up, dodging down various alleyways in hopes of finding Renslayer and Timely, but they found nothing and no one.

            “Anything?” asked Loki when they met up again.

            “Nothing,” said Mobius.

            “Nope,” said (Y/N).

            “I’ll have B-15 run a trace,” said Mobius.

            “(Y/N), keep trying to do that thing from before,” said Loki.

            “Got it, got it,” said (Y/N).

l

            “Welcome!” said Timely to Miss Minutes when they arrived in his warehouse. With Miss Minutes’s urging, they had left Renslayer on a small boat since Timely didn’t do partnerships. Now it was just the two of them, precisely how Miss Minutes wanted it. “Have a seat, a float. I’ll just be a minute.”

            “Oh, take your time,” said Miss Minutes. “Don’t worry about me.” She watched Timely fondly as he gathered up a few prototypes and notebooks. “You’re so much like him. Look at all your amazing work. I’m so happy to be here.”

            “This is it,” said Timely, holding up a small device. “The culmination of my life’s w-work.”

            “Just wonderful,” praised Miss Minutes.

            “Yes,” said Timely.

            “You have always been so smart, Victor,” said Miss Minutes.

            “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”

            “Now, what’s the rush?” said Miss Minutes.

            “Don’t we have to get to the TVA?” said Timely in confusion.

            “I was thinking it may be smart to lay low for a while,” said Miss Minutes. “We made quite the ruckus back there.

            “Oh. Okay…” said Timely hesitantly.

            “Okay,” said Miss Minutes, pleased. “You know, for a moment, I was worried you wouldn’t come with me. That you lived Ravonna or (Y/N) better than me.” She blushed and turned orange again.

            Timely took a step back hesitantly.

            “Is there a sketch of me in that journal of yours?” asked Miss Minutes.

            “Not yet, but I…I’m sure there will be,” said Timely, sitting down at his table.

            “When you first created me, long before the TVA or the Multiversal War, I was just a simple AI. Just something to play chess with,” said Miss Minutes. “But you knew I could be more for you, so you gave me autonomy to write my own programming. I was allowed to have wants and follow whims and become who I am. And still, each night we played chess and talked.”

            “A loyal friend,” said Timely simply.

            “More than friends,” said Miss Minutes. “The war, the TVA, the eons after…I, alone, was by your side.” She hmphed. “But then you chose others over me. You almost gave the entire TVA to that stupid (Y/N) variant. You said she was intelligent and in tune with what it meant to live, but I think you just got caught up in her energy and mistook foolish ferocity for the passion you and I have.” Miss Minutes stared at him. “If you had just given me the one whim you never allowed me, then we would have been alright. But you never gave me what I wanted. A real body.”

            Timely cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, that wasn’t me.”

            “If I had a body, we could truly lead together instead of you searching for someone else,” sighed Miss Minutes.

            “Yes…that’s something I don’t know how to do. Leading with others,” said Timely.

            “You never even tried.” Miss Minutes walked through the air to the mannequins. “With all your powers and your abilities, you just kept me as your thing. Your computer, your toy. Instead of what I could have been.” Miss Minutes stepped backwards into a mannequin, and her animated face shown from the sculpted face. “Your girl.”

            Timely’s hand shifted towards the controller, and Miss Minutes looked on in alarm.

            “Victor, what are you doing?” she questioned. She shot towards him as he grabbed it fearfully. “Put that down! Don’t do this! We’re a team. You need me! I lo—”

            Timely turned Miss Minutes off, and she disappeared before she could confess. Timely shuddered and let out a shaky breath.

            “Lover’s tiff?” said a sarcastic voice.

            Timely jumped. “Th-thank god you’re here. Things were getting quite stra—” He shrieked.

            Renslayer stepped into the warehouse’s light and hoisted the pruning-stick prototype at her side.

            “That’s…That’s very dangerous,” warned Timely. “Still a prototype. Quite unstable.”

            Renslayer ignored him and pocketed Miss Minutes’s controller.

            “Clearly, I made a mistake leaving you behind,” said Timely.

            “Save it,” snapped Renslayer. “I was entrusted with this mission by He Who Remains, not his variant. So, from now on, I’m the one in charge.” She pruned a mannequin to make her point, and Timely flinched. “Are we clear?”

            “As a bell, Ravonna,” said Timely, putting up his hands and sitting down. “Miss Renslayer.”

            In the orange glow of the Timestick, a blue flash of light contrasted brightly, and Timely and Renslayer’s heads jerked towards it. A rift—a portal—had opened from within the warehouse, and (Y/N), Loki, and Mobius stumbled through before it closed.

            “Got it!” said (Y/N), grinning.

            “With B-15’s tracking,” said Loki. “And a bit of magic from he.” He was teasing her, though, since he was proud of her for using her abilities more steadily. Each time they were in the TVA it meant she couldn’t learn to use them, but out here, she could.

            “Shut up,” responded (Y/N) instantly, but it lacked any real rudenesss. “At least I figured it out a bit.” With a lot of annoyance at Loki, Sylvie, and Renslayer.

            “Still following me,” hissed Renslayer, stepping behind Timely and holding the Timestick up.

            That got the trio’s attention, and their eyes widened.

            “No, no!” said Mobius.

            “Step away from him. We need him,” said Loki. A green glow appeared in his palms, and beside him, (Y/N) flexed her hands in an attempt to charge her abilities. (She still had very few ideas how to use it. It was just getting smoother the more she used it)

            “Move any closer, and he’s done,” said Renslayer darkly.

            “Stop. Von, what are you doing?” asked Mobius. “Is this the free will you were looking for? Look at me. You have lost your way.”

            Renslayer scoffed. “Mobius, you really are unbelievable. How dare you lecture me?”

            “I’m not lecturing. I’m pleading,” said Mobius.

            “After all those years of doing your dirty work, cleaning up your messes, making the hard decisions you never had to make…After all the times I put the TVA above myself, even at the cost of my own happiness, my humanity…Who are you to lecture me about losing my way?” questioned Renslayer.

            (Y/N)’s eyes flicked to the stool Timely was sitting on. If she could open a portal beneath him, she could get him before her. I guess I have to use my emotions and hope my abilities don’t need to recharge or anything. At least the emotions part won’t be hard. Renslayer annoys the shit out of me.

            “Look, we’ve all lost our way,” said Mobius carefully. “But someone has to keep track of the big picture here.”

            “You have no idea what it takes to lead, to act, to keep order!” sneered Renslayer.

            I’ve had enough of He Who Remains’s order, thought (Y/N), narrowing her eyes. A subtle blue filtered into her veins.

            “Did you happen to notice the second I left, everything crumbled?” said Renslayer forcefully. “I am the only one who can bring stability to the TVA because that’s what I’ve been doing, thanklessly, for eons. When will you learn that none of your words mean a thing? All that matters is order versus chaos. I’m order.”

            “Then I’m chaos, and I’m fucking fine with that.” (Y/N) spoke, she flicked her wrist, and Timely shrieked as his chair felt through a portal, and he hit the ground behind Loki, Mobius, and (Y/N).

            The moment he landed, (Y/N) turned, Renslayer shouted, and green magic exploded through the room. Everyone went flying. Loki grabbed (Y/N) and covered her as they hit the wall.

            Sylvie alone stood strong, having been the one to summon the magic, and stalked towards Timely with her sword drawn. Loki groaned and checked over (Y/N) as she shook her head to clear it. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as she saw Sylvie standing over Timely with that same cold, vengeful look in her eyes.

            “Please,” stammered Timely, gazing up at her. “I haven’t done anything.”

            “Oh, you will,” said Sylvie. “You’ll do terrible things.”

            “That isn’t me,” said Timely as the sword’s tip hovered in front of his eyes. “That…you don’t know me. You don’t know the heart…the heart I have beating in my chest. I can make my own choices.”

            “Please, Sylvie. Listen to him. It’s not him. They’re not the same,” said (Y/N), standing unsteadily. Loki kept a hold on her waist to keep her from foolishly putting herself in danger. “He’s the man you think he is. He’s just Victor Timely. Just like you’re just Sylvie.” The enchantress’s eyes slid to (Y/N) with sadness, and (Y/N) looked back steadily. “Please.”

            Sylvie’s eyes returned to Timely, and her grip on her sword shook. Her brow furrowed in sadness. Her hand fell to her side. She couldn’t do it. “Get him out of here.” She forced the words out, half relieved she didn’t have to kill another person, she was so tired of hurting people, and half scared that she hadn’t done what she believed was necessary.

            Mobius hurriedly opened a Time Door to the TVA. “Walk through,” he said to Timely. The man listened and disappeared through the golden door.

            (Y/N) and Loki walked towards it.

            “Don’t make me regret this,” called Sylvie. She looked at Renslayer. “And leave her to me.” She turned away.

            “Sylvie,” said (Y/N) while Mobius and Loki stepped through the Time Door.

            Sylvie looked back hesitantly and started when she saw (Y/N) smile. Her eyes widened, and her heart beat quicker.

            “Thank you for sparing him, Sylvie. You did the right thing,” said (Y/N). She smiled a final time and stepped through the Time Door. It shut behind her.

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[slothquisitor]

Dying Star

In which Astarion decides to one-up Mary Shelley. This is graveyard smut. It's been literal years since I wrote smut. Please be nice to me lol. Astarion x Liv, 4k. Not angsty for once!

Also on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

There is little time in the days following Cazador’s defeat for Liv to even catch her breath. Astarion remains quieter than usual, pensive at times. Their companions ask him how he is to try to check-in, but he shrugs off their concern with a joke or a haughty jut of his chin. Their group is well-versed in his fake smiles, in his cutting remarks, in what they hide. Still, no one presses him. They instead leave that to her. 

She knows that this is a complicated thing. Astarion did the right thing, and she’s sure he knows it, but he gave up a lot in the process. Which is what makes it all the more noble, not that he’d appreciate hearing that. Ever since their night on the roof, he has spent every night in her bed, they fall asleep tangled together, but she always wakes alone. He spends every sunrise on the roof. She hasn’t asked, but she’s suspecting he’s counting how many he has left. 

Perhaps they will still find a way for him to be able to walk in the sun even without the tadpole. 

But that is a problem for later. For days when they’re not saving Gondians from the Iron Throne or blowing up the Steel Watch Foundry. Their group eats a celebratory dinner, loud and happy, and while there is still much to do, today has felt like a victory. Astarion even stays, drinking and joining in with their friends. 

As the night winds down, he leans over and in a voice low enough that only she can hear, says, “There’s…something I’d like to show you, if that’s all right? Something out in the city.”

 She takes his hand in hers. “Of course.” And they slip out of the Elfsong into the dark streets of the lower city. 

As they walk hand in hand, it’s easy to pretend that they’re just another couple out in the city. That there is no Chosen of the Dead Three to deal with, that they can just be themselves. She’s struck with a vision of a future, of an after . She’s not really allowed herself to consider what it might look like or that they might have some chance at survival, but with him, she thinks that maybe there might be more than just a chance. That there might be something really worth fighting for. 

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows again, to dark streets and moonlit nights,” Astarion sighs, face upturned to the cool light of the moon. The moonlight suits him, casting his hair in liquid silver, his eyes a deep purple. He is a dying star, bright even in the darkness. But this is not the light he loves. 

“Perhaps,” she squeezes his hand in reassurance. “But who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky? Find a way.”

His answering smile is a soft thing. “If anyone could, it’s you. Assuming we survive of course because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

She huffs a laugh at that. “Unfortunately, it's true.” 

“I’d still follow you anywhere,” he whispers into her hair before kissing the top of her head. The words feel like a promise. 

“How are you feeling, now you’ve had a little time?” 

He sighs. “It feels ridiculous to still be thinking of Cazador. He’s gone, I’m here, I won. But I still keep reliving what happened. Playing it over and over again in my mind. And yet, I feel invigorated and terrified. And I’m still trying to understand it really.”

“I’m sure it will always be a complicated thing. I’m sorry.”

“I came so close to losing everything back there. To losing myself. Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it, just as Cazador was. But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago. You saved me. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do now. Thank you.”

They had been close to losing him, but he had chosen differently. “You saved yourself. I just gave you a push.” She knows that the temptation of that power had been so difficult for him to turn away from, but she had always believed he could do it on his own. As selfish as he often pretends to be, he cares too much and too deeply. 

He stops, turning to her fully, shaking his head. “You did more than that. You believed in me, believed I was enough just the way I am. When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now. And I get to share it with you, as a partner, an equal. You saved me from myself, and let me walk a new path where I can be free, truly and honestly free. This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won’t forget it.” She has never seen him this unburdened, this open, so very different from the man she’d met just a few short months ago. 

She grins. “Partners, huh?”

He tucks her hand in the crook of his arm as they continue walking. “If you’d like.”

She leans into him, squeezing his arm. “I’d like that very much.”

He covers her hand with his. “Good.”

They’ve walked far enough that she realizes now where Astarion has led them, it’s the cemetery. It’s quiet, peaceful even. Astarion lets go of her hand, stepping forward to a vine-covered grave. For all his casual ease from before, he seems a little stiff now, nervous even, before he approaches the grave and clears the dirt and ivy away. She realizes even before the name is fully legible, that this gravestone is his. 

“Two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. And when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until now.”

He spoke once about the pain of that transformation, about how his body became something that was no longer his. There was no reason for Cazador to allow Astarion to be buried, for him to suffer that way, except for the cruelty, the horror. Cazador deserved far worse. Two hundred years of suffering, but even afraid, he fought back and won. “You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force.” 

“Maybe, but he did take it. There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.” He glances at her with a soft smile, with something that feels all the more precious for what they’ve been through. 

“And what do you want?” she asks. It is a question she has been asking him even before she knew how important it was to him, and it is a question she will keep asking, keep pushing through her own fears because it is better to know than to wonder. 

His response is quick, with no hesitation. “You. I want you.” He turns toward her more fully. “You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.”

The words fill up something within Liv, some yawning chasm that has been empty for years and years. He wants her . And not because of anything she can do or be or her magic. “I feel seen with you too. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” 

The moment hangs there, and she wonders if this is the moment she should tell him how she feels. But he’s clearly still working up to something, so she waits. He turns back to the gravestone. “Well, I should probably fix this.”

He approaches the gravestone, and for a time, the only sound is the scraping of his dagger on stone as he carves in a new epitaph. A life now his. He stands back after a minute, surveying his work before kneeling down on the grass. She joins him but doesn’t say a word, just holding this moment and all that it represents. 

“I’ve been dead in the ground long enough. It’s time to try living again,” he says before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his own. “With everything life has to offer.”

The way he’s looking at her holds so much promise, hope. Her heart speeds up. “Meaning?”

“If a night of passion is on offer. I could be persuaded,” he says with a sly grin. She recognizes it for the gift of trust that it is. That he wants to try again, try with her. 

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

He looks relieved. “You know, I didn’t care for you when we first met.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know. You made it very clear with every complaint and criticism of my-”

“I love you.”

She stops mid-sentence, looking into his eyes. He loves her? She grew up in a house where there were words missing. Words like love always sound funny in her mouth, as if she isn’t forming the words quite right. She has been cradling these words within her, holding them carefully as if they are fragile, unsure if she’s allowed to give them to him when she’s not positive she knows exactly what they mean. 

“You do?” Her voice sounds small, full of disbelief. 

Astarion’s eyes soften, his voice gentle. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” He reaches out, cupping her cheek, as he leans in. 

“I love you too,” she says, just before his lips meet hers. And the words feel exactly right. 

***

Liv is not the first person to tell him that she loves him, but it is the first time he has believed it to be true. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s said the words, he’d even said them to her once, in a streak of meanness following their first night together that he now regrets. He regrets saying the words to her the way he had, flippantly, and in a way to wound and hurt. This time when he says them, he’s cutting her off, surprising her. Her green eyes go wide with realization, and her whispered question tells him he needs to say it again. 

He holds her hands gently, her warmth seeping into him. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” He cups her cheek, reaching for her has become instinctive, easy. 

Her eyes are soft as he leans in, and he feels her words more than hears them. “I love you too.” The words light up something within him, casting some long-hanging darkness away. She loves him. Him. Not what he looks like or what he can do, certainly not his power. Him. 

He closes the distance, capturing her lips. This kiss is deliberately not careful in the way so many of their kisses have been since Moonrise. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be careful. He wants to be brave, to throw caution to the wind. He wants everything she is willing to give him, and he is willing to give everything over to her. 

He pushes her back into the grass, settling over her as he drags her bottom lip between his teeth. Her answering gasp is a lovely thing, and he drinks it down like starlight, hand skating down her side to her hip as his fingers pull her close. Her hands are tunneled in his hair, twisting in his curls, but they do not pull or direct, instead, they just anchor him here in this moment, with her. Like with so many other things in their relationship, she seems to be waiting for him to make the next step, to take the lead. 

Well, he can certainly do that. 

He rolls his hips into hers as he inches her shirt up, cupping one of her breasts. She hums into his mouth at the contact, and he breaks away to kiss down the column of her throat. She shivers as his teeth worry the skin at her neck, not enough to puncture, just enough of a promise that perhaps they’ll get there this evening. Her hands span the length of his chest, before deftly undoing the fastenings of his doublet, but then her fingers pause and she pulls back. 

He leans back to meet her gaze, ready to provide her with whatever reassurances she needs that he does in fact want this. “Everything alright, love?”

“You, we….” She is so very rarely fumbling, and it’s rather adorable. “Here?”

Is she serious? “Well, this late our other option is with our nearest and dearest friends in the same room. And as much as I enjoy voyeurism as much as the next person, I think I’d rather not have them participating tonight,” he says, fighting a laugh. 

“We could get caught!” she whispers. Her eyes are wide and guileless. She’s really not kidding.

He collapses into the crook of her neck, laughter overtaking him. “That, my dear, is part of the appeal. Could, but won’t. This place is quite dead this time of night.” He hates himself a little as he says it, but it’s worth it to get her laughing too. 

It earns him a swat of her hand against his shoulder. “I just mean if we get caught, we could get in trouble!”

“I’m sorry, are you concerned about getting in trouble for public indecency on the same day that you blew up a government facility?” 

“Apparently?” But even as she says it, she sounds far less sure than she did earlier.  

He brushes her hair back behind the tip of her pointed ear, looking for some hint that this hesitancy is part of something bigger. “If you’re not comfortable, we can go, but I have every confidence that the very powerful wizard who destroyed the entirety of the Steel Watch can protect us both from anyone who might catch us here.”

Her eyes are bright, and she shakes her head. “You’re a terrible influence,” she says, kissing him fiercely. 

“Gods, I hope so,” he murmurs as she eases his doublet from his shoulders and greedily seeks his skin with her hands. He melts into her touch, lets the world narrow to this moment and this moment alone, enjoying the feel her hands against his skin. He is surprised at how hungry he is for more, more of her, more of her skin against his. He wants to feel her. The genuineness of the desire catches him off guard, makes him feel unsteady. 

There is nothing choreographed about the way they undress one another, sneaking kisses between discarding items of clothing. The fumbling gives way to a silliness and laughter he didn’t realize could be present in moments like this. He presses her back against the blanket of clothing they’ve made on the ground, unable to keep the smile from his lips as he kisses her deeply, tongues twining together. His cock is hard against the warmth of her stomach, and he presses his hips into her just to feel her intake of breath. 

“I want to touch you,” he says against her lips. 

She tightens her hold on him, as if she can’t get close enough. “Please.”

He reaches between them and gently parts the lips of her vulva before gently circling her entrance.  She is wet and waiting, so he slips a finger inside her, his thumb circling her clit. She moans against his lips, back arching. He adds another finger and pumps his fingers, adjusting the pace while she falls apart in his arms. He kisses down her chest and over the swell of her breast, circling her nipple with his tongue while he continues to work his fingers inside of her. 

For as difficult as Liv is to read otherwise, he has never had any issues reading her like this. Her sighs and moans, the way her body responds to him. He hooks his fingers as he circles her clit, is rewarded with a moan that sounds suspiciously like calling on the gods. 

She tightens around his fingers as she comes, her cheeks flushed, eyelashes a dark smudge against her cheeks, his name a string of broken syllables as he strokes her through her orgasm. It’s a beautiful sight to see her undone like this, unburdened by responsibility or worry, simply here with him. Her eyes are dark, slightly unfocused, and she kisses him hard, teeth and lips meeting with an urgency that is still somehow careful. 

Her hand is on his hip, fingers brushing closer to his cock, but not quite touching. He’s aching for her to touch him, to wrap her delicate fingers around him. “Yes,” he manages to ground out, his hips stuttering into hers. 

Her gentle touch is his undoing. He buries his head into her neck as her fingers wrap around him, her thumb brushing over the tip of his cock before slowly, torturously sliding along his length. He shudders at the contact, melts into the sensation. 

Against his ear he feels her lips. “I want to taste you.” 

Gods, yes. He flips them so that she can crawl down his body, kissing down his chest and his stomach as she goes. She pauses just before she reaches his cock, eyes locking on his, waiting for confirmation. His chest is heaving with breaths he doesn’t need, but feels like he’ll drown if he doesn’t. He nods, and she smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. 

“Fuck.” The sensation is almost too much coupled with the way she watches him, honed in on his every reaction. He has been on the receiving end of partners before, enthusiastic lovers who hoped his enjoyment might mean deeper feelings on his part. This is different, an offering, a focus on him, his pleasure. It’s something he’s allowed, so he leans his head back, letting the sensation, the pleasure wash over him without worrying about what might come next, what’s expected after. 

And it is good, so very good, until it is almost too good and he stops her with a gentle hand in her hair. “Careful, love, I’d still like to be inside you.”

Her answering smile is a smug thing, as if she is proud of the effect she’s had on him. He kisses her then, groaning as he tastes himself on her tongue. He rolls them so that she is back beneath him, and thrusts forward, his cock dragging through her wetness. They both groan, and he reaches beneath them positioning himself at her entrance, forehead pressed to hers. She cups his cheek, eyes meeting his, a silent question within them. 

She is staying so very still, and he knows it is because she wants this to be entirely his choice, entirely up to him. He could stop things here if he wanted, they could go back to the Elfsong, and there would be no consequences. She would still love him either way. He slowly, carefully presses into her. 

“Oh,” she breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move. The rhythm is slow at first, her fingers pulling him closer, as if she could eliminate all space between them. Her hips meet his every thrust as they move together at a languid pace, as if they have all the time in the world. 

He can feel the way her heart races, the rush of blood in her veins. She is so vibrant, so very alive. He kisses down her throat, and isn’t at all surprised when she twists in offering. Some part of him wonders if this should have a place her, but she’s never shied away from his true nature, all of him. So perhaps, he shouldn’t either. He tries to be as gentle as possible, as he sinks his fangs into her neck as he thrusts into her, hoping the sensations might balance. Her small gasp tells him he’s been successful. He savors the taste of her blood, the way her warmth spreads through him, her fingers in his hair. 

His hips stutter as her walls tighten around him. He knows she’s close, and he picks up his pace, sliding as deep as he can. He takes another sip of her blood before pulling back, tongue catching the excess. His face hovers over hers, breaths mingling. 

Her eyes are soft as she brushes his curls from his face. “I love you,” she says before capturing his lips in a deep kiss. She orgasms with a shudder, and he follows her over pleasure’s edge, hips stuttering to a stop as he comes. 

She’s breathing hard, sweat forming on her brow, but they stay there bodies entwined. Her nose brushes softly against his. “Feeling alright?”

But the problem has rarely been the actual act, but how he feels after. There is nothing about tonight he would change, but he finds himself still bracing subconsciously, awaiting the regret and the shame. Perhaps it will not come. He kisses the tip of her nose. “Yes.”

But she has always seen him, even when he wished she didn’t. “What do you need?” she asks, gently running her fingers through his curls. 

“I…” he pauses, wondering what it is he needs, now in this moment. This is, for him, new territory. There were not often afters in sex that didn’t include putting clothes back on immediately or other far worse endings for his lovers. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps we just stay here for a while?” she says, the backs of her fingers brushing his cheek. 

“And here I thought you were worried about getting caught,” he says, trying to mask how out of his depth he is here. It would be very nice to stay like this, to just be held. 

She smiles. “I think you put it best when you said -”

He presses a finger against her lips. “Don’t repeat it. And if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it. Vehemently.”

“Come here,” she says, pulling him in closer. He lays his head against her chest, where he can hear her heartbeat. She runs her fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging against his scalp, for a long, quiet time. He focuses on her heartbeat, on her steady breathing. He waits for the wave of shame or disgust, for his mind to twist this around into something else, but it doesn’t come, instead, there is…nothing, and it is a relief. He is sure that it will not always be this way and that there will still be days and moments where he cannot bear even her touch, but tonight, tonight he has reclaimed back a piece of himself. 

“We should get you to a real bed,” he says after he notices Liv’s breathing begin to deepen, sleep making her eyes heavy. 

“I think I’d prefer not to be discovered sleeping here by some poor mourning person come to pay their respects,” she says around a yawn. 

He grins at the image as he begins gathering discarded clothing. “But it would be funny.”

“You’re terrible.”

He kneels back over her, brings his hand to her neck, and runs his thumb along her jaw. “And you love me.”

“And I love you,” she smiles against his lips. 

And this, this is real.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x liv #baldur's gate 3 #bright lost things #tosses smut your way and runs #slothquisitorwrites

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen! I love your blog. I just wanted to ask, if you think that it is possible for someone who’s weird looking and unattractive and also socially awkward and a bit of total looser to get a girlfriend? Because i think women are so gorgeous and I’m not and I feel like it would be creepy for me to approach anyone because of how I look and because I’m awkward. I don’t know I’m just ranting. Hope you’re having a nice day <33

When I was in my teens I was convinced I was unattractive, weird looking, dull, and all those things that we think we see when we compare ourselves to others. NOT that some of us aren't truly awkward, differently looking and unique (meaning not what society deems "attractive"), but I think we do judge ourselves more harshly than the average person passing us on the street does.

Many of us, especially butches, are "faking it until we make it" when it comes to actiing like we are confident. We puff up, put our arms out a bit from our bodies, scowl slightly, and move through a crowd with Quite a "dance" for someone who is internally scared shitless of all the beautiful women we really want to talk to. (perhaps this is just Me?)

Putting aside that we judge ourselves and not taking into account what we think of what others think and even what others might truly think I do belived that each of us has others out in the world who are right for us. No one is an island that never crosses paths with someone who will find us delightful in our "homely awkwardness".

I think there is widsom is the saying "there is someone for everyone" and I would take that a step further and say "there are many someones for everyone". It can take some bravery to meet those people as they come into our lives.

You are not creepy for wanting friends or romantic connections. Say hello. The creepy part only comes in how you handle rejection. If a woman says "no" does not offer an enthusiastic "YES" handle it with grace and kindness. "Thank you for your honesty" or "Thank you for your time" or " I appreciate your candor". Or you can just step away.

Don't use language that hints at guilt or passive aggressive acceptance like "Gosh I was really hoping youd give me a try" or "Are you sure" or "Really, I am a nice person". She knows her reasons and you taking it in stride and stepping away shows you respect her boundaries and takes the "creep" factor out of the equation.

Next time you meet or see a woman you think is lovely or interesting just say "Hello" and ask about her. Listen to her without distracting yourself with your answers or response to her. Show that you truly want to here her thoughts and ideas. At best you make a friend or get a date. At worst she feels seen or heard but unthreatened when she is not interested.

Awkward is a time honored part of the dating scene so don't be discouraged.

#lesbian #dating #romance #awkwardness

[arsene-fixates]

The Informant and a Saviour Complex

Tearing my god damn hair out about his character because I've mentioned to friends about "how funny would it be if he had a saviour complex" and then the game showed me.

spoilers under the cut

Prefacing before I get into the actual meat of this post, one of the first things that I admittedly got wrong about Informant that I said in an older analysis was that he doesn’t like taking risks

Because he definitely does take A Whole Lot Of Risks, only does so if the city is in immediate danger

For example in this one, Felix was about to step down as mayor because of the pressure of the townspeople finding out that he faked a photograph of the werewolf (informant) that he said was captured

and Informant’s idea was to Immediately give himself up and turn into the wolf forever to satisfy the city

Him wanting to help people has been foreshadowed a very very long time ago (the screenshot on the left) and it’s further confirmed when he says it himself (screenshot on the right)

and he’s not joking when he says those things about helping people because he’s so awfully quick to jump at things to put himself into danger

In this one, we had this little pyramid of light that was about to explode and if it were to, it would spread its darkness all across the city, so Informant, Anna and I were tasked to bring it up to bear mountain and put it in a hole where someone needs to be lowered into. And he naturally offered himself up to do it immediately.

And he does it, again! Going into the shadows’ base (a crime organisation) on his own, and he treats going in there as if he’s not going to come back out alive

He is so terribly self sacrificial and selfless that It’s a flaw, he’s too willing to give himself up that easily, thinking of himself as expendable. He’s dead set on doing the right thing to save the people in the city and it makes him look arrogant.

He got caught and locked up in the dungeons of the enemy’s base, but Sarah broke him out and still, even through his weakness he’s still helping her out by leading her through the woods.

“You act like you have 9 lives!” It’s his beautiful saviour complex at work.

something something how he yearns to take control of things because he never got that when he was younger, he can only rely on himself and can’t trust anyone else to do it (perhaps afraid in a way that they would mess it up)

He’s independent to a fault, doesn’t want to ask for help from others because he’s so confident in his own abilities which makes him do all these things.

#Shout out to my best friend philiah who helped me link thoughts; you have the most beautiful brain in the universe. I love you #I NEED I NEEEEED TO CHEW ON HIM #WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID LIKE THAT I NEED TO RIP YOU APART WITH MY BARE HANDS #I am enamoured by your psyche I want to learn about you forever #the informant #seekers notes #Informant Under A Microscope

[thosedangnuns]

Hi folks my name is thosedangnuns and I'm new to Tumblr! I thought today I'd share some of the things I love about warrior nun - I hope you'll all agree with my viewpoint here 😇 that...

Beatrice should have left Ava for Lucia (bar girl)

First - some negatives : While Ava and Beatrice have some kind of a connection (I guess?) it doesn’t appear to be a particularly healthy one. Often, they fight.

In fact it seems most of their closeness is actually just due to shared trauma. Aside from said trauma there isn’t really a ‘spark’ there - Bea in particular is mostly uninterested.

Despite that, Ava persists. Here she is trying to gaslight Beatrice with guilt.

And here she is making Beatrice feel bad about being a good friend - and for caring about her?

Here she is trying to take advantage of Beatrice (a nun!) by getting her drunk. Does this look like a good roommate? Like a good friend?

And finally, here Ava combines the two - a guilt trip and rampant alcoholism (plus the vulnerably eyes) - into one soul crushing blow.

When we meet Lucia, however, we can immediately see how empathetic she is, how she sees Beatrice’s struggle. How she UNDERSTANDS Beatrice and what she's going through.

Immediately, we see Ava on the defensive - jealous, possessive, and downright mean.

Despite knowing Lucia for just seconds, Beatrice is ready to open up to her. Perhaps it’s because they share something in common? Troubled, alcoholic friends in their past?

And unlike Ava, Lucia listens to Beatrice, offering kind and loving advice. There’s already a bond growing. Actual sparkage. From BOTH sides.

Then in a classic, heartbreaking, example of a ‘cry for help’ - Beatrice tells Lucia how she feels TRAPPED by Ava. And rather than fight. Rather than argue. Lucia comforts.

Meanwhile Ava, watching form afar, threatens Beatrice by making Beatrice's least favourite drink, an Irish coffee.

Recognizing the implied threat, and knowing that their short time together might be at an end, Lucia - thinking of Beatrice, not of herself - chooses to offer some kind words. To lift her up.

...instead of knocking her down, like Ava might.

In the midst of this moment of compassion - of tenderness - Ava’s boy-toy Miguel arrives.

And Ava (taking a cue from a departed member of the wn fandom) fakes a medical emergency for attention, then prepares to drag Beatrice away from what might be the love of Beatrice’s life.

Realizing that their moment is over, Lucia offers some final words to Beatrice, who thanks her quickly not knowing (not being used to) how to respond to such kindness.

In short I think that the wn fandom has been blinded by Ava’s (admitted) good looks and (questionable) charm.

Completely ignoring the fact that while Beatrice has been trying to rebuff Ava’s advances for like a season and a half.

And in the end... It took Lucia all of like 90 seconds to break down Beatrice’s closely guarded walls, and it’s grossly selfish and unfair of Ava to deny Beatrice a chance to be with what could be the love of her life. - Thank you for reading my innocent warrior nun thoughts please read a little more about Lucia (Ella Kweku) here. And check out the original tweeting of this piece here. It's lovely being here on Tumblr you all have made me feel very welcome 🤗!

#save warrior nun #warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #lucitrice #sister beatrice #renew warrior nun #ava x beatrice #kristina tonteri young #alba baptista #ella kweku #heresy

[boyfhee]

🗗 THE REVENGE PACT | 13. handsome and cool

so you end up hanging out with taehyun, after all. 

you don’t think declining his offer was even an option, for taehyun would somehow end up convincing you to spend time with him, whether at home or somewhere else. it’s one of his charms, as taehyun claims, and you can’t help but agree even if you don’t want to. 

a part of you is glad that he showed up at your doorsteps, diligent to get you out of the house, or else you would’ve spent the whole day thinking about heeseung and the girl he’s with. it makes no sense because he’s your fake boyfriend. you had your moments, a few sugar coated words were shared, but that’s it. that was all, and at the end of the day, he is your fake boyfriend; and you shouldn’t be feeling out of place, wanting to run that girl over. 

taehyun drives to mcdonald’s as you both argue whether you should order fries or not, which is completely pointless because not ordering fries at mcdonald’s is a crime. taehyun isn’t a big fan of fries, but he gives in to your cravings, and you wonder if he’s doing it to make you feel better. you can’t help but ask yourself if it is obvious that you’re feeling under the weather. 

“where are you going?” taehyun asks as soon as you stand up from the table, almost dropping his phone in the process. 

“washroom, to fix my hair,” he nods, getting back to his phone. he doesn’t think you’re lying to have some time to yourself and cry in public washroom stalls, you’re better than that. his lips curl into a smile as soon as those thoughts cross his mind, only to morph into a frown as soon as heeseung steps. 

there’s a shift in the air around taehyun. he watches as heeseung orders what seems like a takeout, and then he pulls out his phone, proceeding to type something with a soft smile dancing on his lips. the scene leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. he wants to believe you, really, but something about heeseung doesn’t sit right with taehyun, and that’s why he gets up, making his way towards the boy. 

“off work?” taehyun’s words catch him by surprise, just by the look on heeseung’s face, it’s evident that he wasn’t ready to face your friend. “yn told me you had work today.” 

“oh, yeah.” heeseung doesn’t say a word more, fiddling with his credit card to make the payment and leave as soon as possible. he isn’t scared of taehyung— maybe a little bit, yes— but not enough to run away like a coward. he simply wants to leave. he’s tired, the meeting with the customer didn’t go well and heeseung isn’t ready to spent the next few minutes whatever taehyun is planning to speak. but again, silence is more suffocating than everything else. “you’re alone?” 

taehyun nods, and it takes just a few seconds for heeseung to recognize that it’s a lie. it’s not rocket science, especially for him. maybe it’s just something he acquired through or perhaps, he was born with it. heeseung has a good perception, he doesn’t have any issues reading the room in most cases. it’s something he admires about himself. 

“i’m sorry about that day,” taehyun says, his words catching heeseung off guard because for some reason, he didn’t expect taehyun to apologise. “but yn matters a lot to me. i will not hold back if you break her heart.” 

“aren’t you tired of threatening me?” heeseung asks with his words of mockery. he hopes it doesn’t come off the wrong way because he’s definitely not disregarding taehyun’s concern towards you. “i mean, relax. she asked you to trust me, didn’t she?” 

“i do—” maybe, that’s a lie. taehyun doesn’t trust him, and heeseung is aware of this fact. he doesn’t think any of your friends beside jungwon or seungkwan trust him, truthfully. “listen, she doesn’t have a really good relationship history and what her ex did kind of left a bad taste, so—”

“and you think i’ll do the same thing?” heeseung interjects, and a brief silence follows. it sounds like an insult to heeseung, the thought that he would ever do what your ex did, not that he knows what happened but still. heeseung may be the most insufferable person to you but he is a human, and even if the whole basis of your relationship is fake, he knows better than hurting the person who decided to help him the most. “taehyun, do you like yn?” 

a pause, he doesn’t know what to say. to answer the question, yes. he likes you. taehyun has been pining for you for almost a year now, and it pains him how he could never bring himself to confess, and you refuse to seek a lover in him. taehyun finds it funny, if only he could confess instead of watching you get your heart broken every single time. he chuckles at his pitiful self, sort of hoping his reply would lighten the situation. “does it matter now?” 

“it does, to me, as her boyfriend.” heeseung doesn’t know where it comes from, all these unknown feelings he harbours towards you. he doesn’t know what it is, but something about taehyun liking you more than a friend makes him insecure, and at that moment, he couldn’t help but emphasise that you’re his girlfriend, even if it’s fake. “maybe you should try to move on instead of thinking about my girlfriend.” 

taehyun knows heeseung means well, albeit his phrasing leaves a sour taste on his tongue. he watches as the latter drives off swiftly, without sparing him a second glance. maybe, it’s time for him to move on, and with that, taehyun gets back to the table, waiting for you to return. what he didn’t know is that you were standing right by the corner, hearing their conversation as a newly found feeling blooms inside of you. 

PREV | NEXT | MASTERLIST

PRECIS. lee heeseung is the handsome yet good for nothing mysterious boy living a floor below you, who dropped out of college and is living quite a lavish life. when you get fired from your job, ending up struggling to make your ends meet and failing to pay the rent, heeseung offers you rather an eccentric proposal : pay the rent or be his girlfriend.

taglist in the rbs. ( open )

#—approved. #@ : trp. #enhypen #enhypenwriters #heeseung x reader #enhypen au #enhypen smau #enhypen fluff #enhypen texts #enhypen angst #heeseung au #college au #enhypen imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen suggestive #enhypen social media au #heeseung smau #enhypen socmed au #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung

[a-girl-named-angel]

starter for: @bolinity

@bolinity

It wasn’t exactly the best way to make an exit. Especially after purchasing her weeks worth of rations. But this odd habit of sneezing ten feet in any odd direction didn’t exactly happen overnight. For that matter she couldn’t quite remember when their air related stuff kicked in for her. All she knew was one moment she was her normal self, the next she was flying sneezing and accidentally shoving people across rooms without meaning too. It was even starting to startle her eaglelion Meili who was pretty unstartleable.

After offering what little she had left of her odd job money as an apology and gathering what she could of her supplies and packing them away, a voice echoed though the streets as though giving her an answer to her own internal questions.

“Come one come all and witness the amazing Airbenders!”

“Hold on,” she quietly said to herself as people began to flock towards the spectacle in question “did he just say Airbenders? As in it’s not a legend anymore? Like this could answer what’s going on?” She turned her head to her companion to which it only gave a small tilt of her head in confusion. It was nice to travel alone at times, however it did leave you limited in people to talk to.

“Right, we should just see what it is before jumping ahead.” She said before taking the lead. Though by the time they reached the attraction, the crowd grew so big, she couldn’t get a decent view. Unless she hoped onto her companion of course.

It was a sight to see indeed. No strings that she could make out. They were indeed true blue Airbenders. She could feel her heart flutter at the sight. But nearly feel from her seat at the sight of the skybision the flew above them soon after. The stories shared by the elders were true… if only her family were here to see this.

As soon as the show was over. Instead of asking for handouts, they asked for anyone who had the ability to bend air to come forward so that they could be trained. This was it! Her golden opportunity to fully learn her people’s heritage and better control her sneezes! However it had been a good while since she last had a full blown conversation with anyone much less spill what was once a shut secret past.

Fortunately, there were quite a few who came forward to the most intimating (to her) two. Tenzin and Avatar Korra. Perhaps reaching out to anyone else in the group would be a better way to integrate.

Out of the rest of their ragtag team, the one with the clearly fake mustache currently giving his fire ferret a friendly scratch behind the ears seemed the least intimidating, so she approached.

“Nice announcing out there.” She started, hoping to ease into the while Airbending thing. “Though you may want to use something a little more stickier to keep it on, I noticed it starting to slip towards the end. Though it could’ve been the excess breeze going that.” Despite the friendly tone and smile as soon as she said that she immediately felt herself mentally fall over flat on her face. She felt like this may have not have been the best way to start a conversation.

After a lighthearted chuckle in hopes to kill any of the potential tension, she spoke up again. “Anyways. Sometime ago, I’ve discovered that I’ve started to bend air uncontrollably, and while I knew my family had ties to some Air Nomads, I didn’t realize I’d have their ability in me. Now I’ve found myself doing a lot of damage from things as simple as a sneeze. Its even made my friend Meili uneasy.” Just as she mentioned the name, the large hybrid creature approached from behind as if waiting to see if it was alright to come out or not.

“If you guys are really offering a way for people like us to better hone our abilities, I’d be honored to learn.”

#verse: atla; Kora #Thread: Sprit Voyagers #hope this is okay! #cut it’s it was getting kinda long

[specialagentlokitty]

Beckett x reader - things of the past

Part four:

“We told you detective, we won’t allow you entry to our nation.” One of the guards said.

“He’s our main suspect in a murder investigation, and our main lead on a missing detective.”

The guards all shrugged.

“That’s not our issue, we have things of our own to worry about.”

They began to walk away.

“Wait! This means something!”

Beckett held up the bracelet and a guard walked over, carefully examining it.

“Where did you get this?”

“From our victim. And he meant something to our detective who is linked to your convict.”

The guard narrowed his eyes a little.

“We have videos as well, videos we can’t explain.”

“Show me.”

Gates nodded and Beckett showed the man the three videos that they had.

“Impossible…”

“What? What is it?” Gates asked.

“Detective Beckett may come with us, bring this all with you, the council will want to see what you have found.”

“And I can relay this all to my team?” Beckett asked.

“If we deem it necessary yes, but you must come now, we can get you clothes and whatever else you may need there.”

Beckett agreed, and she was amazed at how short the journey seemed to be.

It was only a day out, she was given a visa to take with her everywhere, and while the guards split up to take the prisoner, the others turned to her.

“Come with us.” The other said.

She was escorted through the city, and she looked around at people selling things in markets, kids playing with rocks, throwing them and kicking them.

There were children playing on the roofs of buildings.

“All questions will be answered at the city hall.”

“Right.”

Beckett carried on observing the place.

Walking up the stairs, Beckett was ushered into a conference room.

“Detective Beckett, a pleasure. I’m president Miko, the council heard your request and depending on what you have to offer we’ve agreed to help you.”

“First, did detective (L/N) come from this nation?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t know anybody by that name. Do you have a photo maybe?” Miko asked.

Beckett nodded her head, pulling up a photo of you and he looked at it confused.

“We had somebody similar here many years ago yes, but… that’s impossible…”

“Why? How is it impossible?”

“Detective Beckett, that person died in an ambush 20 years ago.” Someone said.

They walked over, handing her a photo, it was old, but she could still make out the people in it.

“That’s our victim, and that’s (Y/N).” She said.

“You’re sure of this?”

Beckett nodded her head.

“Yes sir, I’m sure.”

“How did the victim die?”

Beckett began explaining every thing to him, along with the destroyed temple and what they had found there.

Beckett turned to Miko.

“Tell me about (Y/N), and these videos.”

Beckett showed the man, who carefully examined them.

“I see they’re taking this to the outside world now.” He whispered.

“Taking what?”

He sighed, gesturing to the table and she sat down.

“For years we have been on the brink of war with one another, an organisation is trying to drive the four nations into a war that will be devastating for everything that we have built. We’ve lived in harmony for hundreds of years.”

“Sir, what exactly is going on here, I need to know.”

He sighed, gesturing for Beckett to follow him so she did, and he led her to a map with the same symbols as yours.

“(Y/N) has this map as well.”

“It is a map of the nations, and their boarders. The boarders don’t mean much, but it’s more of where the heads of the nations live.”

Beckett nodded a little bit.

“Ma’am, those videos, have you examined them?”

“Yes, and I know they’re not fake, our techs scrubbed them.”

Miko nodded his head.

“Perhaps I’m not the one to explain it to you, maybe your friend can. But how well do you know your friend?”

“Apparently not much, we thought they were new to the city but they had been living there for around 20 years.”

Miko sighed, slowly nodded.

“Detective allow me to show you something.”

He led her back to the hallway, and he gestured to a statue in the middle of the large entrance way.

“Do you recognise that face?”

Beckett narrowed her eyes a little bit.

“That’s the person from the first video, the oldest one.”

“That is the face of the person who saved our nation many years ago. We tried to help, when we got there it was too late. Our main suspect and (Y/N) we’re both gone.”

Beckett turned to him.

“There are many things to your friend that you have yet to find out, but if they aren’t dead, and are in fact alive they’re in danger.”

“I know, it’s why I need to find them sir.”

“This is a danger you cannot protect them from, they will be hunted, they will always be hunted they always have been.”

“Why? What are they involved in.”

Miko shook his head slightly.

“I’m sorry. Yet, I may be able to help you find them, if they have returned here, there is one of two places they would go.”

“Where?”

“The southern temple in the air nomads nation, or, the spirit tree, by the boarder of the city and the water nation.”

“Air nomads? Water nation?” She asked.

“All things you will come to know in time, try the tree first. I’ll have somebody take you there.”

“Thank you sir.”

Beckett grabbed her things, and she looked at him.

“Is there somewhere safe for these?”

“Yes, of course.”

He held her to a bank, letting her drop them in a safe deposit box before she was taken to a car.

“How long will this take?”

“About half a day at most, but if they’re there then they’ll stay there.” The man said.

Beckett nodded her head, going through some photos that castle had sent her from the videos they were reviewing.

They were enhanced images of you, and under your shirt she could see the sliver of a scar peaking out, but there wasn’t much else to help.

They reached the edge of the city, and the man sighed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t go any further. If the avatar spot me they will run, especially if they’re hiding.”

Beckett furrowed her brows a little but said nothing.

She’d learned that apparently asking questions wasn’t going to get her very far here, not with these people.

Getting out of the car, she smiled at him.

“Will you wait here?”

“Yes, I will.”

Beckett nodded again and she began up the hill where she could already see the over towering tree.

As she got closer, she slowed her pace a little bit.

She could hear a quiet voice, gentle singing sounded through the quiet.

Making her way to the top, Beckett slowly stopped.

She recognised you immediately, leant against the tree, eyes closed, softly singing.

Beside you was a headstone, and she slowly knelt down.

You stopped singing, but you kept your eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t be here…” you whispered.

“You ran off, what was I supposed to do?” She asked.

You opened your eyes.

“You should have left it Beckett, like I told you to.”

You sighed, turning your head away from her.

“Leave.”

“No. Not until you tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“It’s nothing to do with you, just being here makes you a target as well.”

Beckett placed her hand in the ground, sitting down.

“Why? What happened in that park? What happened 20 years ago?” She asked.

“It’s in the past.”

“Right, and that’s why you’re here? Because it’s still in the past?” She asked.

You glanced at Beckett.

“This is my fight Beckett, not yours, you can’t help help with this. You have no power, your gun is useless. You’re just risking your own life for nothing.”

“Then tell me what I’m fighting for. Tell me who you really are, who is the avatar? Why does everybody think you died?”

You clenched your jaw a bit, placing your hand on the tombstone next to you, smoothing it along the top.

“I used to come up here before I left this country, after he died. He was barely an adult, he just celebrated his 18th birthday. He died just to protect me.”

Beckett looked at it, reading the name.

“You were related?” She asked.

You slowly nodded your head.

“My older brother, he raised me when our parents were taken away. We never saw them again, but he did the best he could. He worked, he taught me when he could, played games with me.”

You sighed.

“When I was taken in by the monks, I thought it was because I had nobody else to look after me, but that’s not why they took me in Beckett. I never asked for this, I didn’t want to be anything but a kid. But I wasn’t allowed.”

Beckett gave you a confused look.

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“Everything Beckett! It had everything to do with it! People look at me and they see a hero, somebody to keep the peace between the nations and protect them. Do you know what that feeling is like?”

“Of course I do, I feel that pressure every day back at the office.”

You have a small laugh.

“At least you can escape that feeling when you go home, I can’t. If I had just been better none of this would have happened…”

Beckett slowly pulled out her phone, handing it over to you so you could watch a video.

“They said that is you. How? Because whoever took a shot like that through the stomach, with the amount of blood they found 20 years ago, there’s no way someone would have survived that.”

You set her phone down in the grass and stood up, moving your cloak and lifting your shirt.

“You mean a wound like this?”

Beckett slowly stood up, her hand reaching to touch the nasty scar on the side of your stomach, and she turned you around slightly, seeing an exit wound on your back.

The same scar, and a blue line going up your spine.

You lowered your shirt and covered yourself with the cloak again.

“That’s how you knew, isn’t it? Because you have the exact same wound.” She said.

“I had my suspicions, I still do. But if I’m right Beckett you cannot get involved with this because they will kill you no problem, no hesitation.”

“Right and you won’t die?”

“Maybe I will, but I have a better chance at fighting than you do.”

You picked up your staff, handing back her phone to her.

“This is my past, I let this happen and I need to fix this.”

“You blame yourself, and that’s not fair. You couldn’t have stopped anything that happened.”

“But I could have Beckett!” You yelled.

Tears streamed down your face.

“I could have stopped all of this if I had just stayed that day I was hurt! But I chose to runaway like a coward!”

You turned your back to her, looking at the vast stretch of land ahead.

“I ran away because I didn’t want to be a hero, I didn’t want to be the avatar, the keeper of peace and balance. I wanted to just be normal. I wanted to just be like you… live a normal childhood.. a normal life..”

“You still can. You can’t chase the past, believe me I’ve tried, it won’t change anything that’s happened.”

You nodded a little.

“I know. I know that…”

Taking a deep breath, you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“But I can step up, and be the person I was supposed to be back then. It means that I am the avatar, and I have a job to do, I’m done running from it.”

“What the hell is the avatar!?”

“The keeper of peace and balance, through centuries the avatar has kept the balance of this world, keeping it safe. Even if we don’t want it, we have to do it. No matter the cost.”

You began to walk away.

“Hey! No! I’m not letting you walk away this time!”

You turned around, pointing your staff at her, and she felt herself het knocked over by a gust of wind.

“Beckett leave.”

Raising your hand, she found herself stuck in the ground, and she struggled.

“What the hell have you done?! What are you?!”

You said nothing, and you walked closer.

“Go home Beckett, please. I don’t want to see you caught up in all of this as well.”

With that, you slammed your foot into the ground, thrusting your hand forward, and she found herself flying backwards away from you.

She stopped by the car that took her there, and she was released.

“(Y/N)!”

Beckett was terrified, and she didn’t know whether to run towards you or away from you.

“Don’t, they’ll be gone by the time you get there.”

“What’s going on here? Who are you? What are you?”

Beckett drew he gun, pointed it at the man who raised his hand.

“Maybe we should talk…” he said quietly

#castle #castle x reader #castle x you #castle imagine #Kate Beckett #Kate Beckett x reader #Kate Beckett x you #Kate Beckett imagine

[ofrushedcockymd]

continued

@wearshisring

The accident had flickered a change. Not to say Conrad wouldn’t be jumping into the line of fire again. Because let’s be honest he was a protector at heart. He rather be the one hurt than to be the one watching a child, or someone he cared for in pain. He knew he had to have a sense of self control; but at the end of the day; he had the hero tenacity inside of him. And as he played that moment in his head; he knew the kid in danger was priorty and his rage at those firefighters taking their time; it just infatuated him. He loved Nic and don’t get him wrong he appreciated her; and her want to ensure he was okay; but he didn’t need a nurse, he only wanted the girl he’d been pinning for. 

She had the caring nature, I saw it; the gentle touches, the easing into showing she wanted to ensure I was okay. I didn’t want her to feel like she was on eggshells around me, but at the same time I was a grown adult, I was capable to eating on my own, of taking in the fluids; hints the bottle of water that sat on the end table, right besides my stay on the couch. I was stubborn as hell; it took a lot of force to get Devon to get me through the apartment doors; better yet to rest. I had a lot on my mind; and now that Nic and I had talked I felt like a weight had been lifted from my body. 

The same page; I wanted to be with her; with everything i had. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I didn’t want to beat around the bush, I didn’t want to take it slow. But given how our last conversation ended when we pushed; I had to force myself to compromise, for myself and her. I had no desire to move; so the discussion of moving to one of our places was temporary on hold. Offering a gentle smile I nodded my head briefly at her requisition. 

“ I promise to be straight with you, If I’m in pain you’ll be the first to know. If I need anything I will tell you.” Communication was key; a spot the male was working on. He had impulse, he had the need to better himself; nor did he go out of his way to damage anyone’s feelings. But he did have to work on communicating on what he felt and wanted; no man wants to feel vulnerable, but with Nic I trusted the love we had; the care we shared for one another. Leaning into her touch; his head had rested gentle upon her shoulder; taking in her familiar scent. His head tilted down to let his lips press a kiss onto her shoulder over her shirt; it was the closeness, the need to feel we could make it work; through our horrific history perhaps now the timing was right. “ I know I’m a pig head at times, probably not the best at communicating, but I’m glad we talked. For once Devon did something right.” The slight fake annoyed retort regarding Devon; but he was a friend someone I could admit I liked having around. 

As for the cape; eyes lifted in curiosity against the stance on her shoulder tilting my eyes up on the remark about the C. “ Yes, it sounds perfect, you think you can make it happen?” A tease a gentle lightness to the heaviness of topics we’ve shared so far.

[torreshalstead]

It Seemed Like a Good Idea - Chapter 3

Summary - Hailey’s US visa was due to expire, which normally wouldn’t be an issue as the CPD would get it renewed but due to a backlog of paperwork, this wasn’t possible. This meant Hailey was faced with the real possibility of having to leave the country, her job and everything she held dear. That was until Jay offered up a solution which would allow her to stay in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him - they could get married. Getting married was a good idea, right?

Chapters - 3/18

Chapter Title - The Truth

Notes - thanks for the support on this story so far, I hope you like this one with some Halstead Brother time! AO3 Link

‘You proposed to Hailey!’ Will exclaimed loudly, his expression one of both surprise and something else Jay couldn’t quite read, perhaps a hint of smugness.

‘I didn't propose exactly, I just offered to marry her,’ Jay said with a shrug, reaching down to pick up his takeout box. Maybe if he concentrated on his noodles then Will wouldn’t question him further.

‘When you offer to marry someone, that’s a proposal little brother,’ Will scoffed.

Whilst Hailey was spending the evening looking up apartment listings, Jay had invited Will over to his for dinner, deciding it was best to tell his brother about their slightly crazy plan on a full stomach. A couple of beers wasn’t going to go a miss either. He had thought about the best way to approach it all day but in the end he had just blurted it out.

‘So, let me get this straight for a second. Hailey was about to be deported so you, in your infinite wisdom, decided to break the law and marry her so she can stay in the country. You’re also lying to all of your friends, your boss, everyone. You’re moving into an apartment together and getting your old friend, who is pretty much a felon by the way, to hack into your phones and ensure that everything is in order so when you are questioned, it’ll all line up. That about cover it?’

‘Umm, yeah that’s about the size of it,’ Jay said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. It did all sound a little crazy when Will said it outloud.

‘And you’re doing all of this because you don’t want to lose her as a partner?’ Will shot Jay a quizzical look.

‘I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do. Hailey’s a great cop and she’s built a life for herself here in Chicago, she doesn’t deserve to lose that,’ Jay said firmly, taking another swig of his beer.

‘And you’re doing it because of your feelings for Hailey,’ Will said nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow at his brother as he relaxed into the back of the couch, throwing his legs up on the coffee table.

Jay spluttered on his beer. ‘What! I do not have feelings for Hailey!’ He blurted out loudly. Potentially a little too loudly.

‘Because we all fake propose to girls we don’t have feelings for,’ Will said off handedly.

‘I don’t have feelings for Hailey,’ Jay repeated, but the finality to his words had dissipated since his previous statement.

Will watched his brother intently, when Jay spoke the sentence again, quieter this time, his demeanour had changed. His shoulders slumped, he began to focus his attention on the label of his beer bottle - his usual air of confidence had vanished.

‘So when you're fake married and Hailey meets someone, or someone flirts with her on the job or down at Molly’s, that’ll be okay? You’ll be fine with that?’ Will asked, hoping to push his brother into the realisation that he had known about for months, longer possibly.

‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ Jay mumbled.

‘You, my brother, are a liar’, Will said as he took a swig from his bottle.

‘It’s not like that Will. She’s my friend. Hailey is my best friend,’ Jay turned to look at his brother, his eyes trying to convey a message but one that Will wasn’t sure matched the feeling in his heart.

‘But you wish it was something more,’ Will spoke quietly, not wanting to scare his brother into retreat.

Jay took a moment, did he wish it was something more?

When he had met Hailey three years ago, to be honest, he hadn’t been in a great place. The girl he thought he was ready to spend the rest of his life with had walked out of his life without a backwards glance. He had started to go off the rails at work, disobeying orders, drinking more than he should, and when Voight had assigned him a new partner, he was not in a place to be accepting of such a change and Hailey had paid the price.

The first few weeks had been rough. Hailey had been keen and eager to learn but Jay was anything but the mentor or partner she needed, or deserved. He would snap at her, belittle her in front of suspects and victims and would take credit for any breaks she had in the case.

It all came to a head when they had gone to check out the last known for a murder suspect they were chasing. They had little to no evidence on the guy so the plan was to just sit, wait and keep watch as they didn’t have a warrant to enter the building. When Jay decided to let himself in through the back door, Hailey had no choice but to follow him. However when they were met with the suspect, armed with a .42, he knew he may have crossed a line. When faced with two armed cops, thankfully the suspect had realised that winning a shootout was unlikely so lowered his weapon and they were able to take him into custody without any issue.

Luckily they were able to justify the entry to the higher ups as there were additional guns in plain sight on the kitchen table that could have been spotted through the window if Jay had taken the effort to do a walk-around before trying the door. When they were walking back to the car, Hailey stopped him and the words ‘never put me in that position again’ had stuck with him ever since, the anger obviously laced through her tone.

Without a second thought, Jay had not only put himself in danger, but he had put Hailey in danger as well. The look on her face when they returned to the district was one he never wanted to see again. She was hurt, angry and upset. And he couldn’t blame her for any of it. When she pulled him into the locker room, he would have understood if she had wanted to slap him upside the head, he deserved it. But instead, she had given him an ultimatum; go to therapy and get some help or she was going to Voight to request a new partner.

That was the day that everything started to change. He went home, cleared out the fridge and his kitchen from all the remaining beer that had been sitting there, he didn’t want to count the empty bottles in the trash but he knew it was more than he should have been drinking alone. He called up Dr Charles, the psychologist from Med to get a recommendation for someone to talk to, and set up his first appointment for two days' time.

When he went into the district the next day, he was laden with coffee and apology doughnuts.

‘Morning,’ he said cheerily when he approached Hailey’s desk. The young detective was usually the first in and the last to leave, Jay knew she still felt like she had to prove she had earned her spot in Intelligence.

‘Someone’s cheerful this morning,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘I hope one of those is for me,’ she said, gesturing to the take out cups in his grasp.

‘Of course,’ he responded with a smile, handing one over and offering her the box of doughnuts. She picked out a jelly filled one with a grin. ‘I just wanted you to know, I’ve got my first session tomorrow after work. Therapy session I mean,’ he said, slightly quieter, not wanting to be overheard in case one of their colleagues entered the room. ‘I know it’s just the start but I wanted you to know that I heard you’.

‘I’m proud of you Jay,’ she said, ‘but please don’t do this for me, you’ll never stick at it unless you do it for yourself’.

‘That’s exactly what Dr Charles said.’

‘Great minds,’ Hailey winked as she took a bite from the doughnut, the sugar coating her lips as she smiled into it. ‘But I’ll never turn down apology doughnuts,’ she said with a grin.

As he stood there, leaning against the desk looking at her, it was the first time he had realised how beautiful she actually was. He had always known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind. But as she sat there, her blonde hair cascading down the side of her face, the light catching it just right, her blue eyes sparkling, a smudge of jelly on her upper lip, sugar coating her fingers and cheeks, it struck him. She was gorgeous. He stood staring for a second too long, long enough for Hailey to shoot him a perplexed look.

‘What?’ she asked, ‘do I have something on my face?’

‘Oh, urr, yeah just a bit of jelly,’ he said gesturing to his lip to mirror where the offending condiment marred her complexion. ‘Yeah, you got it,’ he said quietly when she had swiped her finger across her lips, ignoring the clenching in his gut when her tongue reached out to quickly lick the remnants of her fingers. You’re at work Halstead, pull it together, he thought.

When she went undercover on a case as a server called Candy, he thought he might spontaneously combust. Her hair was straightened and pulled back from her face, lips painted red and the black dress she was wearing was leaving very little to the imagination.

Hailey was usually a jeans and a flannel type of girl, at least whilst she was working, the pair not having spent that much time out of the district together at this point. Not that she didn’t look good in her jeans and flannel but seeing her dressed like this, well it was something else. And he clearly was not the only one who thought that.

‘Damn we should always let Upton go undercover,’ Adam said as they were sitting in the van monitoring Hailey’s wire feed.

‘Shut it Ruze,’ Kevin warned loudly, smacking his friend across the shoulder.

‘I’m just saying,’ Adam continued with a shrug.

‘Well don’t Ruzek. No one wants to hear your commentary. Upton’s a better cop than you’ll ever be,’ Jay said sternly, shooting the younger cop a disgusted look, ignoring the fact his own thoughts weren’t exactly PG themselves.

‘I never said she wasn’t but she looks a hell of a lot better in that dress than any of us would!’ Adam chimed.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Kevin said proudly, tugging at his collar with a smirk.

‘I’m surrounded by idiots,’ Jay muttered, returning his attention to the video feed to ensure everything was going smoothly and his partner wasn’t in any danger.

The next shift to their friendship had occurred when Jay saw a new side to Hailey - the vulnerable side. Throughout the duration of their partnership she had been a rock, always strong by his side like nothing could penetrate her armour. This case however had thrown her completely off her axis.

Ronald Booth was someone she had come across before in her position in Toronto, a notorious drug dealer who they suspected was involved in something more sinister. It was a longer case, with Hailey having to go undercover - something Jay wasn’t too pleased with as he could tell this case was getting to her more than usual and he wasn’t able to have her back constantly. It culminated with them cornering Booth and his nephew in a parking structure and he and Hailey got separated.

Finding Hailey with her gun pointing at an unarmed Booth sent a chill down Jay’s spine, he managed to calm her down with a hand on her shoulder but he didn’t stop her when she gave Booth a parting kick. The dirtbag deserved it after all.

That evening, ignoring Hailey’s minor protests, they did their thing for the first time. She opened up to him, through tears and over a drink, about what had occurred between her and her previous partner when they had come across Booth the last time. Seeing Hailey so raw and so open had hurt Jay’s heart. He cared about his partner, he would have checked on anyone in the team if they’d had a case like that, he thought. But when he fell asleep on her couch in case she needed him in the night, he’s not sure he would have. He couldn’t imagine sleeping on Kevin or Adam’s couch if they had had a difficult day.

Physically they got a lot closer on a case where they were needed to go undercover as a couple. Adam and Kim had been the obvious pick, considering the fact they were actually a couple, however when it came to light that Kim had arrested the right hand man back in her patrol days, it was time for plan B. And plan B was Hailey and Jay.

Luckily the physical contact was limited to holding hands or an arm slung around her waist. When she kissed him on the cheek as she excused herself to allow a chance for the suspect to approach Jay, his cheek burned from where her lips had made contact. He had to stop himself from raising his hand to his face in an effort to keep the heat in.

It all seemed to be coming so easy to her, her body naturally drawing itself closer to him, her hand always finding contact with his own, his arm or resting on his thigh. Every time she touched him however, the warmth would spread through him and he would desperately try to keep the colour from rising in his cheeks. He was supposed to be an elite detective, a trained sniper, not a boy who blushed when a pretty girl held his hand.

Since that case, it was like the dam to them getting closer had broken, it wasn’t a cascade of physical contact but there was definitely a noticeable shift. If they were looking at something on the same screen, she would rest her hand on his shoulder and pull closer. If they were at the bar after shift, they would always stand slightly closer to each other than to others. He would keep his hand on her back slightly longer when they were clearing a building, just a reminder to her that he had her back.

They also began spending more time together outside of the district, but also outside of time spent as an entire group. They loved their friends and nights at Molly’s were sometimes exactly what the doctor ordered, especially if the doctor was his brother and he was footing the bill. But sometimes, a quieter evening spent at Cork and Kerry was called for. These were the nights when they grew closer, their partnership flourishing to something more.

It wasn’t long before Jay thought of Hailey as his best friend and he was sure the feeling was mutual. The pair became almost inseparable. Since they had been partners, neither had dated anyone and family contact for both, outside of Will, was pretty much nonexistent. So instead they spent their time together, spending holidays together at either apartment, inviting Will along if he wasn’t on shift. It was nice, it was comfortable.

And now, they are going to get married. Sure it wasn’t a marriage in anything but the legal sense but still, it meant something. It wasn’t something Jay had particularly considered in much detail before. Sure he had always thought he probably would end up married, if not then married to the job, but the specifics of the day were not something that entered his mind. Now however, it’s all he could see. Himself in a suit, standing at the top of the aisle, waiting patiently. Hailey dressed in white, gliding down the aisle towards him. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, shining as bright as the stars. She looked like an angel. His angel.

��Earth to Jay’, Will said loudly, waving his hand wildly in front of Jay’s face to get him to focus. His brother had been zoned out for a good few minutes.

‘Oh sorry, I was-,’ Jay mumbled as he shook his head, trying to rid it of the images of Hailey in a white dress that were currently swirling around it.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Will said with a knowing expression. ‘So what happens in the end?’ He asked and when he was met by a confused look on his brother's face, continued, ‘when her visa is approved, what happens then?’

‘We get the marriage annulled and we move on with our lives,’ Jay said flatly.

‘And you’ll be able to just let her go?’ Will asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

‘Of course,’ Jay said firmly, ‘she was never mine to start with,’ he added under his breath.

‘This is a recipe for heartbreak,’ Will said dramatically, downing the remains of his beer.

‘I don’t care about me, Will, as long as she gets to live the life she always wanted. That’s what’s important,’

‘You’ve got it bad, brother,’ Will snorted.

‘Shut it,’ Jay murmured, thinking that his brother might be right about that point.

#upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #upstead fic #chicago pd fanfiction #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fanfic #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fic #hailey x jay