#+ ofc. my (younger) friends being way more sorted out than i am on every level

[daz4i]

i know aging isn't the end of the world and 24 isn't that old and life isn't a race etc etc etc. however,

[fact-fictionx]

Fear - Benedict Bridgerton

A Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader oneshot. 

A/N: This is a new style of writing for me, but I wanted to write this but didn’t want to become too attached and it end up being a multipart fic when I already have one on the go. 

This is loosely based from this ask I sent (x) 

If you would like to send a prompt (doesn’t have you be x reader, can be any pairing, even a OFC), I’ll try my best to get through them. 

Let me know what you think xx

Dear Benedict,

By the time you read this I’ll be out in society, but right now I am quite frightened of that prospect. I knew mama would not allow me to hold back for another year, but somehow I feel too young. You may laugh, at nineteen I am far older than some of the other young ladies I will debut with, but that does not retract from the idea that I am completely frightened.

Yours, Y/N

**

For Benedict when he was in London it was hard to find solace in his own home. His younger siblings lost now that their father was no longer here. The first year without his father, Benedict Bridgerton spent little time in his own house. Where the second Bridgerton truly found solace was in your house. Your family had lived a few doors down from the Bridgertons for longer than your parents could even remember, the family friendship blooming from the similar ages you and your siblings shared with the eldest four Bridgertons.

Your brothers matched Anthony and Benedict in age, whereas you were two years younger than them and your youngest brother coming only a few months prior to the birth of the third Bridgerton, Colin. Your three brothers and the Bridgerton brothers grew close, leaving you to follow in their footsteps as you grew up between them. You played in the mud at your frequent visits to Aubrey Hall, much to your mothers dismay, and giggled innocence when Anthony and Benedict often bullied each other.

As you grew into a young woman, your friendship with the three Bridgerton boys soon grew apart. You were civil, of course, but you were not permitted to spend as much time with them as before. Instead you learnt the piano and began your journey with terrible embroidery.

After the death of Edmun Bridgerton you sat solemnly playing the piano, it was a sad time for everyone to hear the news, but your heart wretched thinking of the Bridgertons and how they would miss their father. The Bridgerton family didn’t frequent so much at your home, and the dinner invitations stopped, which you expected, but it still didn’t mean you didn’t miss their presence.

One day you sat tinkering away on the piano, piecing together notes and scribbling them down on paper. After a while you fell into the zone, your fingertips caressing the keys as the melody chimed from the instrument. You didn’t notice that Benedict Bridgerton had settled himself into the corner of the room, flipped open his sketch book and started to draw.

When you finally took notice of your surroundings your playing suddenly stopped. Benedict looked up and your eyes caught each other, the young Bridgerton snapping his book shut and jumping up. “I am so sorry, Y/N” he straightened his clothes, you noticed that his eyes were heavy, his hair disheveled and his skin sallow. You had seen grief affect people this way, and you knew that if you could give him some sort of respite from it, you would let him sit for as long as you wanted.

“Don’t be Benedict, you can stay,” you smiled politely. With a nod and a look of thanks, Benedict sat back down and opened his book.

From then on you often found yourself alone with Benedict, he pottering away in his sketchbook and you practicing the pianoforte. Your parents did not care, you were both young and friends. You began to share dinners at both households, and you watched Benedict blossom from the grief he was feeling into a fine young man.

After a few months your silence grew into conversations, something odd you had read in the paper, or a piece of gossip you had heard from a maid about another high strung household. Soon, you and Benedict became friends.

When he left to study in Oxford, you felt lost, alone. But you continued to enhance your own studies, practice the piano and continue with your terrible endeavour of embroidery. When Benedict came back for the first summer your heart burst, the Bridgerton’s crooked smile making you feel warm inside, it was then you knew that you were in completely in love with him.

It was at nineteen your mother finally put her foot down on you postponing your coming out another year, and you were well and truly frightened. Penning the letter to Benedict was difficult, you knew there was little he could do. By the time he received it and responded, there could be a chance you would be engaged to marry another man. A life without Benedict was a life you weren’t sure you wanted to live, but Benedict didn’t know the feelings you had for him, to him it was just a friendship.

Your first ball was a complete nightmare. You stepped on the toes of two gentlemen, and accidentally threw a drink down another. Completely mortified you tried your very best to persuade your mother to let you miss the next one, but when Violet Bridgerton insisted that she came to the ball with you, your mother practically dragged you out of the door.

“You see dear,” Violet spoke as you walked around the room with your arm hooked in hers, “People will forget about your first ball, if you fascinate them at another.” You were completely confused by the statement Violet said, how could you fascinate anyone? You were a mumbling wreck when a man approached, completely unaware of what was appropriate to talk about. To be quite perfectly honest, you had expected to feel the same comfort with the man you were to marry as you did with Benedict Bridgerton, but you were not quite sure you could find that.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Anthony Bridgerton spoke as he approached you, he stopped gently in front of you and tipped his hand forward, you stared at his hand for a moment before realising that Anthony Bridgerton was not just a friend anymore, he was a Viscount and you were now a lady, you had to treat him as such. “Lord Bridgerton,” you curtseyed slightly, feeling a rush of embarrassment wind through your body as you placed your gloved hand in his, his lips brushing slightly on your knuckles, a mischievous wink coming from him as he stood back up. You furrowed your eyes at the man who you knew far too much about and wondered what he was doing.

“Care for this dance?” He asked, not letting go of your hand. “Of course…” Your words were drawn in curiosity, unsure why Lord Bridgerton would dance with you after the gossip that had very quickly spread after the last time.

As you stood in Anthony’s hold you relaxed slightly, Anthony Bridgerton had no intentions of making you his wife, you were completely sure of that after watching him sneak back into Bridgerton house at the early hours of the morning, his cravat crooked and his hair a complete and utter mess. Anthony Bridgerton had made it well known that he did not intend to marry just yet. “You are not a bad dancer,” Anthony muttered as they circled the floor, “You flatter me, Lord Bridgerton,” you chuckled in his hold, his hand firmly on your back as he led you, “Why are you doing this?” You asked, your gaze focusing back onto the eldest Bridgerton. “Truth?” he raised his eyebrows, “Nothing but,” you responded, “Mother,” he said dryly, “She wanted me to help you attract some attention,” he added, “Oh and here I thought you had every desire to dance with me,” you gave him a wry smile as your eyebrow cocked. “You do not desire to dance with me?” Anthony asked back, his eyebrow cocked in amusement, “You are the wrong Bridgerton,” you sighed slightly before gasping as you realised the words that tumbled from your mouth. You felt Anthony chuckle in your hold and you met his eyes in desperation for him not to speak a word to anyone else, “Oh dear, Y/N, everyone knows but Benedict, and everyone knows that he is in love with you, but you.” Anthony smirked, “Anthony Bridgerton, do not dare play with my feelings.” You scolded him, not caring about formalities in such a situation. “But I am not, I believe our mothers have a bet on, but I try to not believe ladies with such high esteem bet,” his smirk was a constant on his face as he pulled from the hold and bowed as the music ended.

Sleep failed to dawn on you that evening, you could not stop playing the words Anthony said over and over in your head. Completely aghast at the fact your own mothers had bet on you and Benedict, you feared bringing the subject up with your mother incase Anthony Bridgerton was telling a lie, which you did slightly suspect.

The next morning you sat in the drawing room, your fingers delicately pressing over the piano keys as your mother sat completing her most recent needlework endeavour. Tea had been brought up by the maids, along with an array of sweets and biscuits. You were doubtful that any suitors would call, after your dance with Anthony you only danced twice more. They weren’t as eventful as your first ball, this time you didn’t step on their toes or spill a drink down them, but you were too consumed in your own thoughts to have an even legible conversation with them.

The butler walked into the room announcing himself with a cough, causing both you and your mother to snap your heads to the doorway. “Lord Stanley for Miss Y/L/N,” your heart skipped a beat. You were not sure you had ever conversed with a Lord Stanley, but someone had come to see you and it filled you with giddiness and nerves.

As Lord Stanley walked in you were completely taken aback by his presence. His blonde hair shone in the morning sun that filtered through the window, his jaw was strong and you were sure his ocean blue eyes were piercing you from across the room. He held a bouquet of flowers and your heart fluttered at the first flowers you had received as a gift. Standing up abruptly you curtseyed to Lord Stanley before guiding him to sit down.

Lord Stanley was filled with humour, he made you giggle uncontrollably and as you spoke he looked directly into your eyes, listening intently to what you said. When he left you glided across to the piano with a smile on your face, but as soon as you sat down your thoughts shifted and you couldn’t help but compare him to Benedict. Benedict was funny, his humour nuanced, he didn’t just watch you as you spoke, he actively listened and hung onto every word, asking questions to find more meaning, but he also knew when silence was needed.

After a week, one ball and two occasions of promanading with Lord Stanley the whole of the Ton was abuzz with the idea that you would marry. You could anticipate a proposal of marriage coming soon, Lord Stanely had visited your father a few days ago thinking you hadn’t noticed. Your heart wretched as you thought of Benedict, wondering if waiting for him would be a good idea, or if you should accept Lord Stanley and start a life with him. Marrying Lord Stanley meant that Benedict would no longer be your neighbour, you would move to the north and only visit London on the occasion. The Bridgerton family a distant memory that you would only say hello to when you brushed by them in the ballroom.

As you prepared for the evening's ball you looked through the mirror at your Lady’s Maid, Anna. “Should I marry Lord Stanley?” you asked with a sigh, your eyes connecting with the brunette as she dressed your hair, “I do not think that’s a decision I should make, miss,” Anna responded, you swallowed, trying to think of the answer yourself. Every time you thought of marriage with Lord Stanley your mind switched to Benedict. Your dreams were filled with Benedict the closer you to Lord Stanley.

Lord Stanley was a perfect gentleman, and everything you would have wanted in a man, and you were sure he would be faithful and give you a perfect life. But perfect did not mean happy. You dreamed of a love match, after hearing stories of Edmund and Violet as you grew up you wished to have what they had. Your parents loved each other, of course they did, but when they married it was from necessity and they grew to love each other.

On his return to London all Benedict heard about was the impending marriage between you and Lord Stanley. It ate him up to think about you with someone else, but what more could he expect. He clutched his response to your letter in his hand, it had been sat in his desk for weeks waiting to be sent, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it, to potentially risk everything.

Benedict was dragged from the house soon after he had arrived, thankful that his mother and Anthony had given him enough time to change from his travelling clothes to something much more suited for a ball. The Bridgerton family had arrived early, but people had begun to filter into the room, the musicians playing soft accompanying music that did not really warrant anyone dancing. Standing at the refreshment table Benedict spoke to his brother, sipping at the dire lemonade that had been served.

“So who is this Lord Stanley?” Benedict attempted to be smooth in his question to his brother, but from the look on Anthony’s smirk he was far from smooth, “Him,” Anthony pointed at a tall blonde who waited with a slight eagerness at the bottom of the stairs, “He seems nice,” Anthony shrugged, “Completely enamoured with Y/N, there’s rumours that tonight he will ask her for her hand, word has gone round that he always has her father’s permission,” Benedict’s heart dropped in his chest.

Looking at the entrance to the ballroom Benedict’s heart thumped in his chest, he knew he had been gone the best part of a year, but he hadn’t expected to be completely speechless when he laid his eyes on the most beautiful woman.

As you entered the room by your mothers side, you smiled at the guests as you walked through with apprehension. It was not news to you that Lord Stanley was going to ask you tonight, and you still were not sure how you would answer. Scanning the room your eyes met Lord Stanley’s briefly, giving him a polite smile before continuing to roam the room. Your throat clamped shut and your heart began to thump in your chest as your eyes met with Benedict’s, you had not heard from him since you sent your letter, you had not expected to see him tonight.

Gulping with an overwhelming sense of anxiety, you fell from your mothers hold and shuffled through the crowd, finding an escape in the library of the house. Reaching the safety of the silent library you began gasping for air as the tears pricked at the back of your eyes wishing to escape. Benedict was here, Benedict would know of the engagement soon after it happened, Benedict would be in and out of your life in just mere minutes if you were going to say yes. Benedict, the man you were completely certain you loved for the last few years was here and you were due to be betrothed to another man. Your father had already given him permission, there was no doubt a discussion of you dowry. For all intents and purposes, you had been signed off to Lord Stanely. A lot would have to happen if Lord Stanley and your father were willing to let you say no.

Turning in your panicked state you gasped as you saw Benedict Bridgerton looking at you with what seemed to be a thousand different emotions.

“Benedict.” You whispered, your heart skipping a beat as the Bridgerton bounded across the room to meet you. His arms wrapped around you in an embrace that made all the fear and panic escape from your body, in his arms you felt safe. “Y/N,” he whispered as he pulled from the embrace, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he held you at arm's length. You looked at him with apprehension, your heart pounding against your chest as if it were trying to escape. “Are you going to marry him?” he asked, his eyes filled with sorrow as the words fell from his mouth.

Your lips opened to answer Benedict, but you truly did not know the answer. Your heart belonged to him, but you did not know where his heart lay.

“I responded to your letter,” Benedict broke the silence, “I did not receive it,” you added, confusion riddled in your voice as your mind continued to ruminate on Benedict’s first question. “I-I didn’t send it.” Benedict stuttered slightly, his hand reaching into his waistcoat and pulling out a folded letter. You could see your name scribbled on the front, the letter had been scrunched and crinkled numerous ways, no longer the pristine piece it once was. “Here.” Benedict whispered, handing the letter to you and stepping back.

You stared at the paper in silence, your breathing heavy and your mouth agape as you looked at your name written in Benedict's hand. You had seen this many times over the years, your mind knew his penmanship better than your own, and yet seeing your name written by him at this very moment made your stomach twist. With a deep breath you broke the wax seal and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

I cannot imagine the fear that is running through your mind, but I am sure you will stun many gentlemen on your debut.

I must admit that I am in fact very jealous that I cannot be there to see you, and I cannot fathom the thought of you playing the piano for anyone but I.

I miss the time we would spend in your family library, me sketching and you playing harmonious melodies throughout the afternoon. The laughter we shared and the complete comfort I felt in your presence.

The gentleman in me wants to wish you well, wants you to have numerous gentleman callers and to be whisked off your feet with gifts and poetry, but right now Y/N, I cannot be a gentleman.

To imagine you with another man is abhorrent, I do not want to wish you well. All I want you to do is to wait for me.

Yours, Benedict.

A tear trickled down your cheek as you looked up and met Benedict’s pleading gaze. “Ben,” you whispered, your eyes running over the words once again, his heartfelt plea in his writing, his face filled with hurt as he looked at you, waiting for an answer, wondering if he had been too late, if he should have sent the letter as soon as he wrote it and maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t be in the situation where he would have to see you marry another man.

“I did not know you felt this way,” you wiped the tear from your face and sniffed back any ones that threatened to fall, folding the letter in your hand you looked at Benedict who stepped forward again. As he closed the gap between you two, your attempts to stop your tears failed, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. Benedict caught it with his thumb, his hand lingering on your cheek. “I was unsure of your feelings,” Benedict whispered, his eyes fluttering around your face, trying to find the answer. “I am quite sure I have always loved you, Benedict Bridgerton.” you whispered. You watched how his eyes glistened with happiness as the words fled your mouth.

Before you knew it, Benedict had crushed his lips onto yours, his arms wrapped around your wait to pull your body into his. You moulded into his embrace, feeling his warm lips on yours as you reacted to his touch, your hands grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket to keep yourself steady whilst simultaneously keeping him connected to you. It was all you had ever dreamed of and more, his touch was soft but passionate, it was like years of feelings had burst free and you were no longer hiding.

“I suppose that makes me the winner, mother.” Anthony’s voice carried through the room, disrupting you and Benedict in your embrace. You pulled out sharply, stumbling back as a gasp escaping your lips as you had been caught. Anthony and Violet Bridgerton stood at the entry looking on, Anthony had a smirk on his face whilst Violet wore a shocked expression. “I won't tell your mother what I saw, but you two will not be allowed alone again until you are married,” Violet said sternly, not impressed that her son had just been improper with a lady. “But what about Lord Stanley?” you asked, your lips tingling from Benedict’s touch, your heart racing and your mind a complete haze. “He went to ask your father a few nights ago, in which he said to ask you, which I believe was your mothers doing, she wasn’t going to force you into anything,” Violet smiled before turning away. “Told you the bet was true,” Anthony winked at you, before gesturing for you and Benedict to leave immediately.

[moonlightjeno]

ten things and then some | l.j

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 :: jeno x reader 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞 :: based on the poem from 10 things i hate about you if you haven’t watched it fo yourself a favor and go watch the movie bc it’s a m a z i n g. ty 𝕨𝕔 :: 15.5k this is the longest thing i’ve ever written wow. 𝕒/𝕟 :: y’all jeno fits the concept to this p e r f e c t l y, and no i am not being biased :) and a massive massive thank you to @smoljh​ for helping me and giving me feedback, you’re the sweetest. and ofc to my soulmate girl yk i love you to the moon and back, and i hope you enjoy this piece @mangotexts​ ( truly the best hype woman anyone could ask for ).

everything in bold is part of the poem, from “10 things i hate about you”

I hate the way you talk to me,

Sweetheart. love. angel. The words that spin from his mouth every time you hear him talk to you, made you aggravated. It was a constant stream of words that had begun as a prick of annoyance. Every time, he opened his mouth, looking at you with his dark brown eyes. 

“Earth to y/n” the snapping of fingers disrupts your train of thought, eyes glancing back to the dark-haired boy on the other side of the school grounds, before landing back on your friend. 

“What?” the words slip from your mouth with disinterest, a lack of concern for whatever your friend had been rambling on about for the past five minutes. The small amount of conversation you’d registered was she’d been talking about a party that johnny suh, school alumni, and constant talk around school grounds were throwing as a “welcome to the end of high school”. Though as parties went, you were almost sure that it would encompass school graduates, seniors, and the occasional sophomores and freshmen that would manage to sneak their way in, eyes glittering with excitement as they entered their first high school party. 

“Are you coming?” her words were drawn out as if she’d ask you five times before, she might have, and it was only now that you had finally heard the question. The question slightly baffles you, because everyone in school knew you didn’t go to parties since freshman year. 

“Uh, no. you know what i think of parties, they’re a waste. An excuse for seniors to think they're above everyone else, as they tell off the younger students that they’ve deemed aren’t ‘cool’ or mature enough, while the freshman walks around with some sort of desperate hope in their eyes as if the world will drastically change if they show up at a senior party. Someone should tell them” you say, looking past your friend whose excited smile has dimmed to a small frown, eyes slightly annoyed, something that doesn’t surprise you at this point. It isn’t a secret what you think of parties either, even if you are best friends with the queen of parties herself. You stop yourself before your eyes have a change of drifting to the brown-haired boy with a leather jacket that tends to sit by the foot of the football field, whom you can’t seem to find, probably smoking the thought is bitter and places a scowl on your face before you look back at your friend,  “nothing changes''.

“Just once, one time is all i ask of you” the pleas that come from your friend make you focus on her, her hair is loose ruffled by the light wind that has blown over the course of your conversation. It’s almost enough for you to agree to go to the stupid party, when you see her glance towards mark lee, the boy she’s been crushing on for as long as you’ve known her. It hadn’t surprised you, that she’d fallen for him, when you saw him. The boy who made most girls swoon, but who had somehow managed to beat all the stereotypes of “hot” because mark was also talented, more than you’d like to admit when it came to music, he’d helped you a couple of times when you’d been stuck on a composition, always a smile on his face. so when she glanced towards him, the glittering in her eyes and rose tainted cheeks as mark looked back, flashing a small smile, you couldn’t help but give in. 

“I’m going to regret this,” you say, the words a mix of a grunt and an exasperated sigh, but your friend is almost jumping up and down, giving you a quick hug and promising that you wouldn’t regret it, not at all, you’d have the greatest time before she was turning around a skip in her step. A smile graces your face at your friend’s happiness, and it remains there unfaltering until you hear “hello love”

Brown hair made its way into your view, as jeno’s face presented itself in front of you, a cocky smile grazing his features that made your smile falter and eventually turn into a scowl.

“What” the word isn’t a question, more like a complaint as you try to turn around and head in the opposite direction, away from jeno and his sweet words. But his voice trails behind you only a couple of steps away before he’s next to you leather jacket glaring against the end of the summer sun, and you wonder only for a second how he isn’t passing out from the heat. 

“Oh come on angel, a lil smile wouldn’t kill you” his words are filled with a tone you can only describe as intolerable, making you slightly gag.

“A smile wouldn’t kill me, but i might kill you” you smile at him, a grin adorning your features, “luv” the words that left your mouth are meant to push jeno away and have him leave you alone, but the boy is persistent and though his smirk falters slightly at the glare you give him, the grin is up and running again as he stops in front of you. 

“And then who would you have to glare and fight with luv?” the moment the words leave his mouth he turns away, proud of his line. The dumbass, you think, insults quickly forming in your head and ready to be thrown out towards him but your phone pings, and you thumb it open. The message “see you at the party angel” makes your blood boil slightly, but you can’t hide the way your cheeks slightly turn red and the smile that slowly grazes your face before you make a vulgar gesture to the sweet mouthed boy, and turn away.

As much as you hated to admit, you looked forward to the party only just slightly more than you did five minutes ago, the small nicknames swarming around your head. 

And the way you cut your hair.

The too-loud music and blinding lights that could be heard and seen from multiple blocks away, and you almost stopped in your tracks, ready to turn around and head back home. But a pull from your friend as she squealed in excitement at maybe having a chance with mark managed to keep your feet moving towards the flashing lights. 

Strong alcohol, tequila, or vodka is something you’re hoping they have at the party so that you can attempt to get away from the sex-craved teenagers that are lined up against the walls, pushing against each other. Just walking into the house, and the stench of cigarettes, weed, and sweat floats through the air almost enough to make you gag, as your nose scrunches up at the sight and smell. 

Drinks are set far too far from the entrance of the house, the kitchen seems to be miles away not close enough for your liking until you finally reach it. Johnny, black-haired slicked back, the sunflower tattoo on his forearm a stark contrast to the leather jacket he wears and it makes you smile just slightly at the different personalities the dark-haired boy has.  Yet you can’t deny his loud and extravagant personality as he talks from person to person whether senior or freshman, making drinks, even if some of the spillover the sides, you sit by one of the stools ready to get a mixed drink of whatever the alumni is able to concoct before getting the courage and energy to head back into the party and socialize with people you really have no interest in socializing. 

In the short minute that it takes johnny to get your drink, the lemon drink shot with a strong tequila is set in front of you just as your friend has left you with the only warning being a sharp look, as she smiled to a brown-haired boy that you can only presume to be Mark, by the way, her face flushes, and she takes a swig from the drink in her hand before leaving you, and you yell a sharp “go get em” before gulping down the liquid inside the red solo cup. 

Alcohol you’d forgotten burned down your throat, it’s lingering sharp and bitter taste leaving a tang in your mouth as it traveled down your mouth. You forget that the effect of the drink doesn’t come into effect a little later, where you are jumping up and down on the table, dancing from side to side as the music pumps through your blood and body. You won’t be able to tell that it’s the alcohol that you’d sworn you wouldn’t drink unless surrounded by friends, but most definitely not in a social gathering, that makes you jump from table to table and grab other’s next you as you dance with them. Hair slightly plastered to your face from the sweat, and though you’re dancing your words are slightly fuzzy from the multiple drinks you’d had from random tables you’d pass by.

A sharp tug and pull gets you off the current table and you begin to complain, wanting to continue to let loose to the rhythm of some constant beat song that sounds all too vaguely familiar to your ears, but the arms that are wrapped around you feel oddly warm and comfortable and the protest die slightly on your lips as you turn around to see who’s holding onto you. 

Dark brown hair, almost black frames the boy’s face perfectly and you want to run your fingers through it. Some sense of longing for love and being loved passes through you, and now you’ve realized how drunk you truly are as you push down the emotions of attraction to the boy in front of your face showing only the traces of what would be a smile if he wasn’t so concerned for your safety. 

“y/n?” the boy asks, and you’re still in a light haze of alcohol that buzzes through your skin and blood making everything fuzzy that you can’t quite picture whose face it is in front of you, whose voice that is soft and gentle towards you and sounds so familiar, to which you only manage to nod your head slightly hair falling in front of your eyes as you smile. It’s small, fluttering, and the boy in front of you smiles too, as he repeats your name, and then the words that leave his mouth make him click into place. 

“y/n? Luv? How much have you had?” The word luv, makes you push away from the strong arms that hold you, the classic leather jacket that tends to adorn his body has somehow managed to be wrapped around you, and you realize that you are no longer inside the house with loud music. Instead the music and flashing lights have been replaced by trees and twinkling lights that flash in the dark sky and the distant background of loud music that is too low for your ears to register anything more than a constant drone. Your smile has been replaced by a scowl, and you grunt at the jacket you’re wearing, hating to admit that it’s warm and comforting. You try to speak, the words a slur before you hurl, holding onto your stomach as the content of your lunch and too much alcohol are spilled on the grass floor in front of you. 

The acid from your stomach burns your tongue, a bitter taste seems to linger even as you chug down the water that jeno offers you, a small smile gracing his features. And you blame the alcohol, but you smile back at him, and can’t think that maybe he isn’t as bad as you thought he was. You can’t shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around your waist, another holding up your hair as you hurled, and coughed no mocking grin or satisfactory smirk making their way onto his face. Instead a small smile was present, his dark hair that you finally admitted to yourself, made him look hot, was tousled and messy by the wind and it looked cute. 

You blame the day’s events and the words that were thrown at you at the beginning of the party making you head straight to the intoxicating drinks. You blame the chemicals that are still in your system, as you sit on the grass dragging jeno to sit next to you, hand intertwined with his. The grass that is cool against your touch, making your skin feel less hot, less sticky, and more conscious. You blame the alcohol and everything it changes in your core, for letting you lean your head against jeno’s shoulder, as his arm wraps around your shoulders pulling you in only slightly, scared to scare you away. You most definitely blame the alcohol as the words that fall from your mouth as you hold onto jeno’s calloused hand. 

“I like it” the words are a mumble, whispered into the night air, and it causes jeno to turn just slightly his lips almost touching the crown of your head, “like what?” he whispers back, and you can almost swear a small kiss is placed on the crown of your head. 

           “Luv” 

I hate the way you drive my car.

It seems that the stars want you to hate jeno more than you already do, as he half carries you half drags you to your parked car. The moon shines on the car surfaces mixing in with the dull yellow lights from the evenly spaced streetlights. You wished that you could walk straight, but you still stumble a little, your steps not sturdy until jeno has placed his arm around your waist lifting you up, that you manage to walk to the old vintage car that is parked under one of the dimmed out streetlights. 

The sequence of opening the door and you get inside the car occurs in a slight blur, but you find yourself on the passenger seat, head resting against the cool window that makes you jump slightly from the contact. It isn’t until you turn your head as the engine roars to life underneath you that you see jeno by the wheel, adjusting the rear view mirrors to his height and gripping the steering wheel. 

Time seemed to stop as you lay in the grass, head tucked in between jeno’s shoulder and his head. It stopped when the last words that had left your mouth had made jeno’s smile widen and his eyes match the moon that shone brightly above the two of you. The droning music has stopped, flashing lights no longer as constant as they were when you had first dragged jeno into the cool grass. In that position did you two lay for hours, a comfortable understanding and silence settling between the two of you until your breaths became constant and your eyes had begun to droop threatening to close that jeno shook you lightly. The only response he got was a small humm that you were still awake, as he pulled you up and started to make your way to the car. Something that seemed almost impossible as jeno had absolutely no idea where the fuck your car was and you didn’t seem to quite remember in your hald drunken half sober very much about to fall asleep state.

Jeno could have almost jumped from joy when he’d seen your eyes brighten up at the sight of a beat-up old red mustang, and you pointed towards it. The moment he had opened the passenger door you had climbed inside curling up next to the door like a cat, and he couldn’t help but think that you were adorable, even when you snapped at him for taking your keys. It was a different side of you that he’d never seen, and he doubted many people did see. One where you weren’t putting on a sort of facade of hating everything around you, but instead you let your eyes relax holding a sort of brightness and glow jeno hadn’t seen before but now couldn’t stop himself from looking at. Stop, jeno scolded himself as he turned to look at the road, car roaring to life.  

“Nu-uh” you grunted at seeing jeno aggressively change gears, “stop being so aggressive,” you say as you sit up. The smile that adorned jeno’s face turns into a grin, as he continues to aggressively switch gears as he turns the corner, and you regret ever thinking he was kind. 

“My car doesn’t deserve this” you grunt out, and jeno chuckles looking at you from the side, and he loosens his grip slightly on the gear stick. 

“You mean my presence? I’m gonna have to agree, sweetheart” you’re not sure if it’s the light trace of chemicals that still surround your brain, or if you’ve really wanted to do this for a while but you don’t stop your fist as it punches jeno in the arm. 

“The fuck” leaves jeno’s lips, as he rubs his arm where you’d hit him and you do a little dance on your seat, “don’t hurt my car dumbass” is your only answer before you continue to laugh at the face of confusion and mocked hurt that jeno fakes. 

Your laugh rings around the car, and echoes through the street, as the windows at some point where rolled down. The way jeno looks confused makes you laugh harder, and he turns just slightly, his eyes narrow and eyebrows slightly scrunches, and he looks like a confused dog. Alcohol might have made you hit him, but you can’t fathom why you would be laughing at jeno, no not at him but with him as his laugh has joined yours as he drives the car down the street. The ridiculousness of the night catches up with, making you hold onto your stomach as jeno parks into your driveway smile never faltering. 

From the way, both of your eyes shine from joy and amusement one could almost swear that the two of you were friends, almost lovers by the way jeno looked at you. But no one was looking at two in the morning, and no one can be there to tell you that the way you two look at each other is in a new way. No gazes filled with mocked sympathy or non-wanted flirtatious remarks, instead, you two seem to gaze into each other’s eyes for what seems too long if it weren’t that neither of you seemed to mind. 

And because you are still slightly tipsy, and the stars and moon make jeno look like some sort of angel as his hair is illuminated by a white light, that lights up his face making his eyes a warmer brown that they usually are that you think about opening up yourself to him. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think, maybe just maybe the nicknames he gives you make you feel a flutter because he could be someone to trust. 

Possibilities for the maybes and wants to fill your head, and you don’t realize your eyes have fluttered shut and you are leaning in only slightly a sway towards where jeno is until you feel his hand on your shoulder stopping you, a pitiful gaze grazes his features and you are almost sure you want to go crawl in a hole. Instead, you push him back, opening the car door and slamming it behind you, chin held up as you walk back towards your house, the water in your eyes threatening to spill. But you manage to make it, as you walk into your house, and slam the door behind you the words “maybe not now” replaying in your head, because why the fuck would he actually like you. 

You don’t notice when you go to sleep music blasting from your headphones that you’ve wrapped yourself in the leather jacket that smells slightly of cat and boy, the lingering stench of cigarettes and fire from the jacket given to you by the boy who had managed to hold your heart for only a second. 

 I hate it when you stare. 

              in and out. Your breaths match the classes metronome, a constant beat to keep your breaths even and focused on whatever the teacher is saying, which happens to be the importance of pentatonic scales when composing a new song. He drones on about the way modern pop music isn’t really music and that the same fours chords and rhythmic patterns are used over and over again with a slight variety to them. You would have looked around the class, taking in the beautiful instruments that are set on display around the class, most of them hanging on hooks and nicks that cause the brass instruments to gleam in the classroom light. Admiring the way the guitars were filed neatly, basses next to them and the small ukuleles that the school's “hipsters” would pretend to play every so often at the talent shows. Some of the guitars and ukuleles were decorated by the art classes, the flowers blooming from one end to the other making it impossible to tell the difference between where the original brandished wood begins and ends. It almost seems at times like the flowers in full bloom are consuming the wood, taking away its air and nutrients that then allow the students to play melodica tunes without the professor yelling at them to tune their instruments. You would be admiring the piano that lay at the front of the class where your professor is currently pacing back and forth, his hands waving in grandiose gestures that make you cough an attempt to hide the rising laughter in your throat. The piano that you’d heard most of the students in the class play and almost lull everyone to tears or sleep depending on who it was, as the keys would rise and fall with each stroke. 

Admire. Stare at the instrument you longed to strum and let out the bundle of emotions that were piled up in your stomach, taught and knotted together waiting to be untang;ed by the strum and finger pattern of the acoustic guitar. That’s what you would be doing if you weren’t slightly interested in the way that your professor was taking down and criticizing modern day music which you could only nod your head too, agreeing with most of his points. The rest of your class seemed to be disgusted, their faces shriveling and eyes rolling to the back of their heads. 

“Well yeah, music today doesn’t, well shouldn’t really constitute for “real” music. It shouldn’t be dictated by a constant talk of sex and the drugs, what about the power in music? The way that it is in itself a universal language?” you speak out of turn, your arm coming down slightly aching from having to hold it up for so long with no acknowledgment. The moment you speak you can almost feel the class sigh and grunt, their heads dropping slightly. 

“Now miss y/n” his voice is grainy and unpleasant, but you nod, eyes defiant at whatever critique will come your way even if you just agreed with your professors point of view, “did i ask for your opinion on the universal language and power it has on your feelings” 

“Well no but-”

            “No buts” you want to roll your eyes and flip him off, and decide to do both as you sigh, “not like you’d understand what that is” you mumble loud enough for your the boy at your right to hear you and his mouth falls slightly open, and you roll your eyes flipping him off as he turns around facing the scribbled blackboard.  

You can feel eyes staring at you, analyzing the way you bite onto the top of your pen or how you doodle across the margin of your paper, random notes and lyrics that pop into your head as your professor drones on and on about the theory of music. It’s a pity you think that it’s those eyes that make you want to stand up and hit someone, those eyes that seem to want to dig a whole through your brain are what cause the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach every-time you turn around. 

in and out. The metronome beeps constant again, and you loosen the grip on your pencil. Turning around slowly before locking gaze with jeno, who seems startled, you turned around and looked at him in the first place. Replaced is the mocking grin by a sheepish smile, and you can almost swear there’s a speck of guilt in his brown eyes as he looks at you with a small pleading look until you flip him off, mouthing the words “fuck you” into the air. But he seems to register them as he breaks the contact, eyes darkening and head bowing down just slightly, making a small smile graces your features. 

Tick tick tick - ring. The bell goes off and you can’t seem to get up and out of your seat quick enough, following pursuit of the other students that have already packed and are counting down the seconds until class is over. You’re almost at the door, fingers stretching to reach the handle when you feel a light tap on your shoulder, a brush of your hair to the side, as you swirl around. You bite down the curse that is about to slip through your lips as your professor stands in front of you an amused smile on his face as he tells you that even though you’re an exemplary student you should tone down on the whole “power to the people” role you hold and you have to stop yourself from turning around and walking away. “Uh sure…” you are ready to leave, feet beginning to turn but your professor isn’t done and he holds you back telling you about the inconveniences of being a teacher at this day and age and you wonder what the man had wanted to be if not a teacher but the question and pity are quickly erased when he tells you that you about the end of the year assignment, “a project of sorts” he drawls, one hand stroking the light beard that sticks in odd patchy places around his face. “that will test what you’ve learned this year” you say nothing, waiting for what the punch the goal of the assignment is, “a song based off shakespeare’s sonnets” 

You don’t have time to clap and jump from joy at the assignment and thank your professor before the fire alarm goes off and you are walking towards the football field. You don’t have the time to register the way people are looking at you, the way jeno is staring at you with a goofy smile and hopeful eyes as the intro chords play to i.f.l.y  by bazzi and he gazes towards the crows that has gathered around him, eyes finding yours. 

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

The clunk of boots against the aluminium causes the bleachers to shake slightly, a vibration of clashing echoing through the field as it mixes in with jeno’s voice. The dark haired boy that scares the school away on most days bounces along from one side of the bleachers to the other. 

You can feel the warmth spread to your cheeks, the heat spreading through your body and you shake your head slightly at whatever is going because you truly aren’t quite sure. The only thing you know is that it seems to be the whole school’s eyes are darting from you to jeno, who can’t seem to take his eyes off even as he jumps from one row of bleachers to the next the microphone on his hand a he raps along to the lyrics to the song. Lyrics that sound as familiar as a midnight drive and cooling moonlit fields. 

*

The way he conveys the words and raps is not something you hadn’t heard before, you’d heard him speak his poems to you that late night in the midst of summer heat when you had been in a need of escape from the world that surrounded you. The summer heat had been too much, too suffocating that in a whim you’d driven to the highest point in the city. City skyline had been laid before you, the hues of the city changing as the sun slowly dipped itself over the buildings, and it seemed to want to disappear like you did. Slowly, leaving a mark in the world as it reached past the buildings and water that lay far beyond the city, stretching it’s red flames that would slowly flicker and turn into different hues of pink and purple. It was mesmerizing, a way to get away as the sun went down and the moon shone brighter than the city lights, no amount of light pollution that littered the air enough to you were in your own world. Your mind travelled to that safe and peaceful place that would only come out when you were surrounded by the twinkle of stars that seemed to flicker hope, while the moon remained a constant reminder of the light in the darkness. That is until the crunch of leaves behind you, a sign of the coming autumn disturbed you from your silent peace.

Moonlight shone on black boots, the combat boots seemed to dull the moonlight, taking away all it’s light by absorbing it as it crunched the leaves underneath them and stopped in front of you. Eyes landed on a hooded figure, their black hoodie being slightly too big, as it drooped over their frame, reaching slightly past their hip, where you could see the tears in the boys jeans, and you hated to admit that the outfit wasn’t bad. The boy’s face wasn’t visible from the shadows caused by the moonlight, but it wasn’t that it mattered as you went back to looking at the city below you, waiting for the boy in front of you to sit down next to you. It would have normally bothered you to be disturbed in what you had claimed to be your “spot” but maybe it was the way the boy held his head down, or the way the stars shone and illuminated portions of his face, maybe it was just that there was a mutual understanding between the two people that had seeked comfort in the middle of the night underneath the stars. For whatever the reason, you stayed next to each other not touching, not leaning against each other but there was a sense of comfort by each other’s presence and a mutual knowledge of what each wanted. The silence was one of comfort, a blanket that seemed to surround the field that two of you sat in, and when the boy with the worn out combat boots began to speak, a light melody and rhythm to his words all you could do was nod along and enjoy the melodic and soothing sound of his voice. His words shocked you, reaching somewhere inside of you that seemed to be dormant for a long long time. 

“Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing.  But when the stars shine, and the sun goes, Summer becomes a lil less lonely Little less wasted Because when i'm with you  Time’s gonna stop” 

You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the warm voice that rapped next to, as he talked about lost time and love that seems to be a long lasting one that makes you feel like you’re gonna burst from everything that you feel for them only for them to leave in a quick second. And though you don’t know the boy next to you, you don't know his story, you don’t know why he decided on this very day much like you too climb to the top of the hill and admire the busy world from afar, you know the melody. The song that follows his heart, it’s something out of a movie you think, the way the two of you met, lost souls finding themselves by watching everything around them fade into the dark. You don’t know each other but you do, you know the way his song goes and it’s an understanding beyond words beyond actions as the two of you sit next to each other, hours passed midnight a boy with combat boots that crunch through leaves and a voice with thoughts that seem to connect to everything around you, and you. A lost soul with music in heart, that sways and calms down in the brightening moon of the night, as you give each other mutual company in a field of moonlit flowers, and blinking concrete. 

*

Jeno has made his way down the bleachers, his cheeks are red and you can’t help but feel amused and honored. Because as much as he annoys you and makes you want to hit something you can’t deny the way your heart flutters when he smiles at you as he is doing right now, steps bringing you closer and closer to you, his warned out combat boots make you laugh because you’d never seen him wear anything else. You can feel the anger fade away from the week, anger at him for embarrassing you, anger for not feeling loved like you wanted to be loved, but there was a sort of bond that was formed when the school's resident bad boy decides to sing a love song to someone he’s hurt and cares for. There’s something vulnerable by the way he looks at you, a light in his eyes and embarrassment and all of a sudden he’s in front of you. Faces only centimeters away, his breaths fanning your face slightly, their heavy and uneven but he’s smiling tune slightly off-key as he sings the last verse. 

“So I guess what i'm saying” the mic is lowered, and the space between the two becomes your own world. No longer are aware of the hundreds of teenagers surrounding you, some of the whistling others video taping. 

“I guess what i'm saying” you hum back, smiles adorning both of your faces, 

“I fucking love you”

And the way you read my mind.

It seemed as if the world had suddenly shifted. No longer where you are grounded on earth, goals set to go to the other side of the world away from your family, instead you feel alleviated. Where the ground used to be now there was air, a lightness to your movements and words that weren’t there before. It isn’t that the world suddenly changed, the clouds didn’t suddenly become more bright, the world didn’t suddenly become a bright ball of colors and sunshine. 

Falling for someone was based upon the little moments spent together. The way the world seemed to feel a little less heavy, a little less lonely when brown eyes would meet yours, greeting you with a lopsided smile. You had read in books that falling was like falling asleep, slowly and then so quickly that you didn’t even notice the way your heart would take skips when hand touched hand, calloused fingers from constant strumming of a guitar, grazing yours. They say it’s supposed to be too fast for you to notice, as if you were in a dream state that you had fallen into and slowly when your heart is shattered or turned over do you wake up from the dream-like state wishing you had stayed in it. In your opinion falling was neither of those, and it was both. 

Falling was being dragged out of an arena, filled with a whole school student body, where laughter trailed behind you as the boy with worn out combat boots took you to the place you first met. It was the way his eyes would light up their dark brown becoming a lighter color, almost matching his honey colored hair when the sun would hit him from behind, when he looked at you while you talked about the project you were working on. Falling seemed to be the way that the first sentences after the boy sang bazzi’s confession song was a banter over why the song was chosen, you two debating which of his songs was better, an ongoing debate whether smile or i.f.l.y was a better show of emotion. The argument lasted the whole car ride, you drove and it hadn’t taken much convincing after you threatened to keep his leather jacket, that you had shoved back at him only previously that morning. It was only a matter of seconds after that conversation, that jeno pride smile on his face opened the passenger's seat to the beat up mustang and let you slightly, well more like lecture him on how to be gentle on the old car. If jeno would have been tested on the way that your hands would flit back and forth, moving from side to side and up and down making grand gestures and soft ones in order to justify and further prove your point, jeno was sure he would ace the test. But if it came to what you were talking about, how he shouldn’t force the car to change gears or how one button should be pressed before the other he would have passed, he loved hearing you talk passionately about anything and as much as he loved to get on your nerves to see you get flustered cheeks growing slightly red, but would have failed on purpose just for you to smack him in the arm. The punch, which he would never admit kinda hurt the first time you’d hit him what seemed like ages ago, but was really only a season ago, had softened and felt now more like a “you’re stupid but i don’t mind it”, it made him smile. Banter that flitted back and forth between the two of you, constant little arguments that weren’t truly arguments but more of a facade at the emotions and hidden feelings that grew between the two of you. 

The coming winter air was sharp against your ungloved hand, making you shake it up and down, which only caused jeno to look at you with a confused look. 

“You know luv” the nickname no longer made your blood boil, and you’d finally admitted to yourself that it made you feel warm, “there are pockets for a reason” he put his own hands in the stitched pockets of his leather jacket for emphasis, and you huffed. 

“And then how would i be able to carry this?” you lifted your hand, the what had been hot chocolate was now cold all thanks to the new barista at the cafe, jungwoo you think his name was. Your fingers that had seeped up all the warmth they could get from the previously steaming cup of hot chocolate were now pink at the ends, the cold biting into them, and you slightly shook from the cold air you hadn’t been ready for these type of temperature when jeno had sent you a message this morning, the contact “soft bad boy” appearing repeatedly in your phone, with the vague instructions to get ready to go out in the span of fifteen minutes, he’s been by your door in fifteen minutes leading you to your car where he opened the driver's seat for you as he headed into the passenger. It had taken you arriving at the snow covered school to realize where jeno was taking you, and when you had realized it was the school protests were coming. Questions such as “jeno? It’s winter break, why the fuck are we in school?” and “fuck it’s cold”, or jeno’s favorite which you were almost sure he would forever tease you about, “my hands weren’t made for this” you’d been talking about the numbing of feeling in your thumbs when you had been holding the chocolate, keys, phone and wallet in your hands because your jeans had been made without proper pockets. Fuck the patriarchy you hat thought. Jeno has heard the whole situation out of context, and has made it his life goal to tease you on and on about your small hands. It was torture. 

“You could ask for help?” his little bow almost made you laugh, but you rolled your eyes pride getting in front of his help

“And hear you brag about how you don’t feel the cold” you sigh, changing the drink from one hand to the next letting the pocket in your hoodie heat up your hand slightly, “no thank you”. The next thing you know though, is jeno’s jacket is placed around your shoulders, their warmth heating up your bones, and his hands are wrapped around yours, “no, i’d just do this” his voice is next to you, breath stirring the hairs at your ears, warmth sweeps through your body, by the contact his skin makes with yours, and for a second you want to turn around and kiss him. You want to know what it’s like to kiss his lips that seem so soft, want to know what it feels like to wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him, and play with the black strands of hair at the back of his neck. The feeling doesn’t leave as much as you try to push it away, as jeno holds your hands and drags you towards the school gate, and into the music room.

Falling is about the invisible things. Falling is noticing the way he can read your mind like no one else can, falling is making dumb jokes at each other smiles on both of your faces, it is the way you seem to have conversations about what you want from the world at two am and still poke fun at each other in a passing by through school. Falling you think you finally understand, isn’t singing i.f.l.y by bazzi in front of the whole student body because you don’t want someone to be mad at you, no. falling is the way from summer to fall to winter you get to know each other, until your hearts seem to be in-sync with each other, as jeno who fiddles with the rings on his fingers tells you to sit down on a chair in the music room. It is the way he picks up the guitar your breath catches on everytime you see it, the flowers swallowing and making the wood more vibrant than it was, and looks at you in the eyes. Falling is how his hands tremble slightly when he begins to strum the guitar, and his husky voice fills the empty room, as he sings about the way you make him feel less alone, and part of the universe.

But there’s a thing about falling, there’s the way that you can feel your eyes tear up when he finishes a goofy smile plastered on his face, the last g chord ringing throughout the room and into the hallways. When you fall, you can never tell when the bottom hits, you can never be prepared for the way the ground lurches before you, a slap in the face, right as you let go of the moon boy in front of you breaths still a little uneven from the shared kiss, which made a star fall seem small. Once that rock bottom is hit, the world falls back into place and you aren’t held at freefall, when you hear the “click” and whoops and yells from the hallway and you try to ignore the invasion trying to take in the boy in front of you, until your phone dings and then so does his. A new text message from an unknown contact, with a photo image attached,

“Turns out the bad boy took the bet after all, and y/n isn’t as cold hearted as they seem”

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

Crashing, falling and burning. Emotions that seem to curse through you days, a weeks later after the text is sent, the one that follows is worse. 

“Turns out, jeno was being paid all along to make cold-hearted y/n to fall for him. If you don't trust us, ask him” you knew the message was a taunt, a test to see if you would break but you’d plummeted down down down, and the way jeno’s eyes had shuttered and the light was no longer the way gave you the answer you wanted. 

A breaking point is what they call you’ve heard when one can no longer hold in the anger or sadness or any sort of emotion that seems to be too much. The breaking point that causes one to lose control over their actions, or thoughts because things you thought to be true, are flipped on their side, and the worst part is you wanted yourself not fall for the boy with the easy smile that shone like the moon, and sweet words that made your blood boil and melt all at once. 

Sick, that’s how you felt when you pushed him away, leather jacket dropping with a heavy thud onto the wooden floor. A twisting and turning of emotions rammed through you, anger coming out strong as you shoved him away again before walking out of the room, leaving jeno mouth wide open as if he’d wanted to say something, hands clenching and unclenching as if he’d grabbed onto to you or hadn’t let you check your phone it would change the world worked. The light that had shone in his eyes left, it seemed to be squashed out by the water that threatened to escape because it was true, he had been paid. It isn’t something that made him particularly, it wasn’t that he wasn’t intrigued by you, from the night you two first met all those months ago under the moonlight. 

Payment, green paper that would be slipped into his hand by haechan, a fellow senior he barely knew apart from the school’s biggest flirt accompanied by na jaemin, he did wonder at times how they weren’t at each other’s throats most of the time, but substantially he truly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him the more he got to know you, the more he held your hand and felt the way his heart would swell and at times skip a beat or two, maybe even three if you looked at him with light in your eyes, laughter ringing in his ears from a joke he had said. 

The first time he’d been offered the paper, fifty bucks to see if the cold hearted bitch that everyone seemed to fear was capable of giving her heart to someone, he had denied because as much as the world thought of him as a cold hearted human being he truly just didn’t want to be bothered or be torn apart from his music and dance.  The second time haechan offered, he accepted on a whim. There had been a sort of argument in music class, you leading the conversation against something he couldn’t quite remember but he remembered you taking down student after student, a defiant look in your eyes as you gave point after point on what you believed was right. He had accepted, because seeing you standing on top of your chair, passion driving you away from the textbook and to speak clearly voice ringing through the room, made him wonder if it was even possible and if he gave up with what he thought was to be your overly cold demour then at least he's earned some money and the freshman that had walked up to him that morning telling him about the plan they’d set up would work. The plan chenle, a boy who was taller than him, but a freshman nonetheless broke it down in simple steps, it was entertaining to say the least, the way he discussed how he would get his new found jisung to go out with your sister, but that would only be possible if you would date. If he wanted to lie to himself, he would say that he accepted the deal because he wanted to help the kids out, but he was never one to not follow the truth. But now, his hands feel cold and empty, lips still feeling the ghost of yours against his, and he remembers a quote he read not long ago on the story of how the sun died everyday in order to let the moon live at night. 

Jeno is sure that he should be the sun that should die, not because the sun was where the world gravitated towards but because you were the moon. The moon that seemed to hold him together and stand by him even after the lies that are spun about his background at school so when you walk out the door, and he sees the tear’s shining beneath the classroom lights he knows he’s lost. If only you knew that he had stopped taking any sort of money the moment he caught feelings, if you only knew the money that he’d earned had gone to help his fostered cats that hung out by his house every now and then. But even if you did now it didn’t make him any better than Haechan who had sent out the text message, informing the world about the stupidities and decisions he made and had regretted two weeks later when you had scolded him about how to drive your car. 

Sick. From your stomach to your head a loud and never ending thump went on and on like the metronome in the music room all those weeks ago. The headache seemed mocking of your developed feelings for jeno, and you could feel your heart twist into itself, as you went over the events of the last few months. What was real, what was done as an act, you didn;t know but you hated it. You hated the way he made you feel, hated the way one text one yes or luv had led you into this snowball and fall that had hit harder than you’d ever wanted it. You hated him so much, it made you sick. 

It even makes me rhyme.

Melodies follow structured patterns, like the rhythm to a song and the lyrics that accompany it, never missing a beat a simple dun dun dun that tends to lead people into a dance like trance. Yet that was the problem with melodies, it was the way that they held onto certain chords, following the same stroke of keys the same vocal riff or bass slap that would drive you insane but would also drive modern days love songs whether they dealt with the infatuation that was love or the consequences of that love which lead to the inevitable heartbreak all followed the same sort of patterns and lines. 

Rhyming, that’s what you did as you recited the end of the year Shakespeare inspired song. A mixture of words with similar sounding words with the same syllables, like car and stare or hate and fate a juxtaposition between the two. Rhymes where everything you tended to avoid, the stereotypical and overused notes digging into your brain, playing and replaying over and over but you didn’t care anymore, as you recited the scribbled lines on the old piece of notebook paper. Some of the yellow had faded from the drops of tears that had dropped weeks ago, as your mind thought of jeno, his smile no longer the same comfort it held when he drove you out to the beach and led you late at night to admire the stars and watch the sunset. Some of the blue ink bleeding through, making smudges across the paper you were to run in, the doodles that had been scratched and re-drawn only to be scratched and drawn in different shapes the notes written down almost everywhere except in the five bar staff that was supposed to hold the notes. 

The shaky breath you let out helps you calm down as you look out into the pinned up pictures of the bedroom wall and the view that gives out to the dying sun set out in the horizon making space for the ever present and shining moon in the blue now purple and lilac sky. Hands grip at the paper, making it crinkle slightly at the force being used, and you read halfway through the lines you can’t fully get through before tears begin to spring up at your eyes. 

I hate it, i hate the way you’re always right.  I hate it when you lie. 

The words feel raw, and posion, vile seems to rise up at your throat the further you go down, and thought the tears don’t fall heavily they steam. A dashing race down your cheeks and back into the yellow notebook paper, as if they were being recycled. The words on the page breaking you, the emotions a sway of everything they say you aren’t, written by you to the boy who shared his heart and then stole it taking it far far away. Salty water drops onto the paper, until they dry up and then they fall again the next time you read them, and you read them and fix them and read them again rhymes embedded into your brain until the tears no longer fall and the paper is no longer in crinkles. 

I hate it when you make me laugh,

The memory flits back to you when you are met with brown eyes on the first day back from winter break. The air is no longer sharp and threatening to cut into you, but nevertheless you wear your sweater, hoodie slightly up, headphones popped into both ears. You didn't realize the figure in front of you, until you’d bumped into the halfway through a new invented dance move you had decided to create as you bopped and moved to the music that surged through your headphones. The toppling into one another was fast, rushed almost as you collided against each other, a stutter back from both of you before you saw who exactly you had crashed into. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you should have realized who the boy was from the worn out combat boots that had been dyed black again, and the leather jacket that had a couple of new patches adorning it’s sleeves. 

“Sorry” jeno murmurs, but you don’t hear music still flooding in, and you are too focused on the way his eyes shift from your face to your hoodie, and then back to your face not being able to look straight at you, it causes you to scoff. Of course he was able go behind my back, get paid to play with me, and when he gets caught he can’t even look me in the eye, the thoughts are slightly disappointing but not surprising - boys you had learned tended to follow patterns. It isn’t until jeno shifts his focus entirely from you, brown eyes darkening that you are intrigued by the change emotion, guilt and a sort of plead to apologize is wiped from his face and you soon realize the purple haired boy, who couldn’t help himself from laughing at your situation, calling more students to him that had set jeno off. 

“If it isn’t the schools biggest joke” haechan’s voice is mocking, and you truly don’t know why the rest of the student body is laughing with him, when there isn’t anything humorous, sadly this is what you expect from the school by this point, it happened in ninth grade there was nothing to say it wouldn’t happen again. You think about ignoring his comments, there truly was no use getting involved, haechan just wanted a reaction, that is until he flaunted his money around, the constant taunt of how you had been manipulated thanks to the douchebag in front of you not leaving your mind for a second and you’d had enough. Haechan or his group of friends couldn’t have stopped you even if they tried, as you walked up to him, hood down, the rings on your fingers shining in the morning sun, as you punched him. 

“Bitch!” his voice broke as the word escaped his lips, blood beginning to swell on the side of his face, “i have a photoshoot tomorrow” you punched again in response, this time his lip was cut, and you snickered. 

“Hmmmm” you hummed looking at the boy’s eyes, they held anger and a hint of mist that threatened to escape and not being the schools ‘perfect’ boy, “guess they’ll have to find someone else, you know someone that’s actually, how do i say this in the nicest way possible” placing a hand on your chin you pretend to think about it before a grin spreads on your face, “nevermind there isn’t a nice way because you don’t deserve shit. rot in hell fucker” the last word is almost a yell as you’ve turned around and have walked away from the scene, a shit eating grin on your face, at the look of defeat Haechan held. 

It isn’t the way Haechan looks at you with disgust, no that gives you some sense of pride by taking him on, it’s the way jeno’s eyes are filled with pride and warmth. A plea to hear him out at least just once, and as much as you try to deny it his eyes take you back to hot chocolates on random days, snowball fights late at night and random drives through the city to calm you down, music blasted through the stereo of your old car. Memories of him being next to you, arms around yours holding onto you as if you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. Memories that as much as you wished wouldn’t flood up every time you saw him did and though you kept telling yourself that it was just an act, you can’t help but think that maybe just maybe not all of it was an act. The hope you hold close to your heart, is what leads you to be stuck back in the place that the mess started, stuck inside the music room yet again, jeno hand centimeters away from yours which just gets you to sit far far away from him. 

“So…” he starts, fiddling with the bracelets that adorn his wrists.

“So…you gonna say something or can i go because i have class to attend to” the words come out harsh, as your annoyance slightly rises, mixed in with being emotionally exhausted you really weren’t here to sit around the boy who had played with you. 

“The cafeteira is having french fries today” the second the words leave jeno’s lips he regrets them, because how stupid is he to start an apology by talking about food, when he looks at you he sees you laughing. Laughing so hard that he manages to walk closer to you so that you are only a couple of feet away from each other, but it isn’t a laugh that fills up the room. Your laugh is dry and humourless, empty and broken, it reminds him of the way one laughs when they have nothing to lose and have given up all hope.

“You know” you start, willing the tears to not fall, your voice to not break because just being in the room with him feels like too much, like one wrong step and the glue that has tapped your heart back together might diffuse into thin air, “for a second, a short second i thought you were gonna say something meaningful” the words are like poison, as you spit them out wanting them to strike and hurt the black haired boy with the perfectly chiseled face to hurt as much as you do, as you begin to head out of the room, the tears threatening to spill again. You’re about to reach the door before you hear your name being called, and you wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the desperation that was laced with his words. If it weren’t for the words that followed your name, “Summer’s been lonely, time seems wasted and passing” the lyrics, the way they roll off his tongue as if he’s heard them a million times catch your breath and make you turn around. 

“Stop” you hold your hand out in emphasis, trying to calm your beating heart down, trying to stop the idea that this boy, the one that held your heart and broke it is the same boy that made you feel at peace in a day of chaos, on a midsummer night. But he tries again to talk, a small smile on the ghost of his lips and you have the urge to laugh and smile at him. 

“Just stop” you almost plead, and jeno takes a deep breath, waiting for you to continue, “stop because dam you have no right to sing that. You had no right, no right at all to make me laugh like no one else that day and day’s after, you had no right”  

Even worse when you make me cry.

Jeno has never been one to convey emotions with words. It was never, his forte as people call it, but in the music room that felt stuffed and almost suffocating he reached for words. Any word that might be sufficient, no, not sufficient, words that would convey his truth. Somehow, some way to get rid of that look of disgust, anger and defeat in your eyes that made his heart ache. He can feel you pull farther and farther away even if you are only a couple of feet away from, a couple of inches until if he held his arm out he could catch your hand in his. There was some part of him that thought the moment you two shared what seemed to be years ago, would help, would stop your eyes from shining every-time a light would hit them, the tears he knew you were holding back, because you weren’t one to cry in front of others threatening to spill.  In response, he could feel his heart ache for longer, his hands clam up, eyes look at yours pleadingly. 

“I know” his voice is defeated, almost as broken as you feel and the way it still manages to pull at your heart makes you look up at him, willing if only for one second, or to prove yourself that you can listen to him. The pause seems to make the room feel slightly more bearable, less stuffy, a little less suffocating, because two words are more than just an acknowledgement at the past but also at the present and the recent fuck ups. You hear more than see jeno take another shaky breath before he opens his mouth, closes it and opens again, a hand squeezing his eyes shut before he begins. 

“I know” the words are repeated again, and you aren’t sure what to make of them but he isn’t done, “i fucked up” you scoff, and jeno has a faint smile, “i know that anything that i say will seriously not make up for anything i did because no one in there right mind would ever accept to what i did. No one who knows you, would ever even consider agreeing to being paid to approach you. No one, because being around you, getting to know you is a gift itself. And yes i did agree at the beginning, it’s a long story” the words become clustered, a mumble and you want to leave again, because they feel like an excuse, 

“A long story, that still ended with you winning right?” the words snap from you before you stop them, and jeno is left wordless for a second before his eyes focus in again, mind running at a million, “yes?”

“No. no, i mean no” the sound that escapes from his lips confuses you, it’s a grunt and a sigh but he looks exhausted, “this isn’t going well”

“You think?” The question is more of a fact but that doesn’t stop jeno’s lips twitching slightly upwards, and you're mirroring his. Banter is good? I guess jeno thinks. 

“What i mean” he starts again for the uptenth time, “is that the moment i saw you smile, the moment i got to know you, not the cold exterior you present the moment you laughed at something stupid i said, because for some odd reason you seem to find my jokes funny when no one else does. The moment you... i saw you, eyes dazed as they looked at the sky i knew that the whole thing was stupid. And i stopped it, i promised i stopped taking money from haechan the second i knew you because you didn’t deserve that. Does that make me any less of a shitty person? No it really doesn’t” he stops for a second, catching his breath and you're trying your best to not let the tears drop to not scream or yell or hit him over and over again, but he makes it so hard. So fucking hard when his voice and eyes seem to convey everything you need to hear, everything you want to hear, but then the word money is said and you remember what he did and you can feel yourself recoil back, but not before a silent tear slips. 

“It doesn’t make me a better person if i had stopped the moment i had accepted the deal because I considered it. But y/n the way I feel about you, the way you manage to center me and be the single thing that keeps me afloat in this hell hole. The way that being next you whether it’s holding your hand that tends to be cold because you hate wearing gloves in winter and rather let them freeze'' another smile, and another tear slips making its way down your cheek, “can make me so happy and completely infatuated to the point i don’t know what to do with myself. It is the way I can feel your body next to mine hours after you’ve gone home from one of our random late night drives, or the way you steal my jacket and then i can feel you with me even when you are in class. It’s the way the stars and moon seemed to align that summer day, when we were both lost and found each other in the same lyrics, the same words and melody that sang to us. So yes, i was so stupid, so dam stupid for ever thinking i could be anything other than a stranger to you, and accepting that. But I can feel the way my heart seems to forget how to beat, anytime you look at me, and you smile, and unlike what the world wants us to believe. You aren’t my sun, or my stars. You are the center of the universe that i stand for, the moon that no matter how much i tried to get away from continues to rise and remain even on the never ending days, because i didn’t mean it all those months ago in the bleachers when i just wanted you to stop being mad at me for being the dumb ass i am, and i will never be the best when it comes to words and emotions luv, but i mean it now. I truly truly am sorry, and -” his voice breaks, and his hands shake, a tear slips from his eyes and you can see it’s reflection by the light. 

“St…” you take a breath, the word not leaving your throat, your breaths are shaky and jeno tries to reach out to you, tries to wipe away the silent flow of tears that continues to stream down your face, “stop”. The word finally manage to leave your lips, harsher than you wanted them too but it stops jeno from grabbing your hand, from taking away the warmth of his hand against your cheek, his eyes that had begun to light up slightly to be shut down again, as if someone had doused water on him. 

“Luv…” the moment the words leave his lips you know you have to leave, because if he does say those words, the ones you know you’ve been dreading to hear because you feel the same way. Because you have fallen and though you have hit rock bottom, and have been smacked back into reality your heart has never stopped reaching towards his. It doesn’t help, when his eyes look at yours with love, and you want to forgive him, you want everything to be okay, and in order for that to happen you can’t break down in front of him. Slowly do you shake your head, arms wrapping around your body as if they could provide some type of warmth, and heat up your bones, give warmth back into your eyes the way they do when you look at jeno. Which is why you don’t look at him, why you turn away leaving his arm outstretched and hanging. You can feel his eyes trail you, as you open the door the noise of the outside world rushing into the room, startling you for a second, but jeno doesn’t seem to hear it. The only thing he can focus on is you leaving, your footstep getting farther away, and his world becoming a little darker, more grey. The last thing he sees is your - well what used to be his - grey hoodie, the marking of sharpie that have been used to doodle on the piece of clothing one late night, flashing before the wooden door closes shut, surrounding him in a lonely silence again. 

I hate it when you’re not around,

The world seems to mock you for falling for lee jeno. The black haired boy seemed to follow you everywhere you went no matter how far away you tried to get away from the memories that plagued you. Days had passed since the world had yet again seemed to shift on its axis, and you had seen jeno less and less, but that didn’t stop your mind from making you remember his laugh anytime you heard a bad joke. 

No longer did brown eyes meet yours right after school ended in the cafe next to school, you weren’t greeted by the easy smile, that turned eyes into moons, or called the obnoxious pet names of angel and luv that used to make you want to punch a wall, only for you to find the words to be missing from your everyday life. Moments when the radio would play the song about summer and hazy love would worm their way into your heart, and it was like he was there. Smiling at you, his hand intertwined with yours as you drove your car to the top of the mountain where you first met, and just when the chorus would hit the two of you would belt out the song at the top of your lungs. It was only when the song ended, the melody fading into the back and replaced by the rapid voices of an ad for some car dealership you really didn’t care for, that you would look to find an empty seat beside you. No boy with a leather jacket, and combat boots that might have been propped up on the dashboard much to your protests, instead the seats were either empty and cold with no presence or soul in them, and the car would suddenly feel small and distant. 

Other times, the pang of not hearing his laughter diffuse into the air, over your clumsy self either tripping over words or almost falling over due to there being a small rock in the sidewalk. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t have friends. Your best friend, the same one that had dragged you into that party all those months ago, would never miss a beat to be with you, to take you out for a random karaoke night or a late night drive on her car. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them, you loved how they would always make time for the small nuisance you would bother them about, even if it was just to tell them about a new meme you’d found but the way their presence would fill only a small space in your heart made it hard. Especially because you would see how happy they were anytime they talked about Mark, the stories of their lazy dates filled your heart with happiness and joy. It had become a habit to prioritize other’s happiness above your own, and soon it became a habit to prioritize getting jeno out of your memories out of the place in your heart he had seemed to crawl into and not leave. 

Memories you come to realize are fleeting, and unpredictable. They are made from what one process to be from the emotions they feel in the current moment that the memory is being stored into your brain. The thing about memories, it’s a thing that they don’t tell you in 12th grade biology class. School or teachers don’t teach you about the different emotions and images that memories bring along with them. The figments that surround every memory you have for the past year seem to somehow always lead back to jeno. He comes when you think about your favorite drink, hot chocolate, and the drink transports you back to jeno bringing you hot chocolate late at night after long after hour practices. His black hair makes a presence, when you think about the essay you had to turn in a week ago, you don’t remember much of the project but your brain, against your conscious will remembers the way jeno’s hair felt through your fingers as you played with his hair one late afternoon. The threads come together slowly, on a random day, in which the sun seems to almost be desperate to stay on the earth’s surface, as it turns the buildings around it into purple hues. It almost seems like it’s gasping for air, and as the purple slowly turns into pink and lastly disappears beyond the horizon it’s last breath taken and long gone you realize something. Like the sun, and the threads that are tied together in order to form memories, in order to form the segments of life that when pieces together form a picture that lets one create the story of a person or a setting, jeno seems to form in front of you. You sit on top of the mountain where you first met, but this time you are alone, the skyline displayed out in front of you. The trees have lost their leaves and some of them even still have some white specks of snow in them, that with one push of wind would make the tremble and shiver, letting go of the white covering. 

Jeno is next to you, his hand only a mere centimeter from yours, but you continue to look at the sky, the buildings that go on for as long as you can see. His memory, the way you rest your head on his shoulder and he listens and listens no judgement ever from his eyes, only support and encouragement to let you choose what will make you happy. A memory that repeats over and over again, but that isn’t your favorite memory from jeno. The last memory that forms in your head, after the roadtrips, to sweet make out sessions that led you two to leave whatever homework you had to work on for another time, or the sweet messages left at your phone that would bring a smile to your face even if he just texted you about the weather, to then get a back hug as he called you angel. 

Your favorite memory was the day you had been on the exact same spot you where now, except jeno had been next to you, breathing a little harder than normal he had just shown you a dance routine he’s been working on for as long as you could remember. His eyes didn’t shine like they usually did, they didn’t take in the light around him, and his face didn’t have traces of a grin that you had grown so used too. Instead he pushed you away, dark roots from his bleached hair he had decided to try out for the month had begun to show and you could see the stress that seemed to suffocate him. This was a different side of jeno, a side you hadn't seen, one that you tried to approach with a joke, only to be quickly shut down. A small argument over school and life had formed, in which you two had gone from being right next to each other to being feet apart, a scowl on your face, the same one that jeno bore. It was this memory that was your favorite because it had been the first time you had truly seen jeno be vulnerable, it had been the first time from the weeks you had gotten to know each other that you felt that the walls on walls he built around himself, the walls you built around yourself had been torn down. There had been no shared kisses, no shared moments in which one hadn’t jokingly filtered with the other until the first droplet fell down jeno’s face. The only reason you had seen it was because the sun, punctual as always, had descended flickers of light reflecting in his face. It was a small action but enough that there was some part that managed to push aside your pride and you approached him, arms wrapping around his waist. The memory makes you remember that it took him a second to wrap his arms around you, but in that moment, it seemed as only for a second in which you could provide some support for the boy in front of you, then he could give you the support you needed. Threads of the memory are vague, movements in which you can’t fully pinpoint what happened in between or later, in which you know that at one point music had begun to make its way up the mountain from one of the daily parties the teens would throw, but you two held onto each other. The song, isn’t one you can seem to recall, but it wasn’t one that people slow dance too, it wasn’t one in which you are supposed to hold onto the boy in front of you arms around his neck, as his eyes looked into yours, smiles grazing both of your features as your foreheads touched, a small kiss placed on your forehead. Moonlight cascading the both of you, pushing away the shadows that surrounded you both. 

It was any memory that you had in which jeno took part, in which you could feel him next to you, that was your favorite. Memories, you remember reading somewhere are your subconscious telling you something, it is the way the body and mind admit what you are too scared to take in for yourself. Memories of jeno next to you, and then not are what make you realize how much you hate not having the black haired boy, with the overly kind personality next to you. 

And the fact you didn’t call.

Days turn into months, as the winter snow leaves the tree’s branches leaving them barren. Only for the spring rain and occasional sun to let the leaves and flowers begin to spring back up again. Teachers are at the point in the year whether they aren’t quite sure if they want to give everyone in the class a pass just so they don’t have to hear the constant complaining on the amount of assignments a student has due by tomorrow, or if they’ll give more work, more assessments as a sort of payback for the hardships they’ve had to endure throughout the year.  

You are in music class, your professor going over the final assessments guidelines one last time before they are presented at the start of class tomorrow. The weight of the written sonnet feels heavy, and though the physical copy of the assignment is types out neatly somewhere in your computer, the original draft that you had begun to draft all those months ago is crumpled up in your jacket pocket, a constant reminder of everything you want and everything that you feel you can’t have. 

If you close your eyes just for a second you can see yourself back in your room, until the space changes and you are no longer in your room but are at the school’s roof. The warm spring breeze tangling your hair, and making the page in front of you flutter. You didn’t need the paper, the lyrics to the musical sonnet that had been shakespeare inspired seemed to be embedded into your brain so that when you weren’t thinking about the thousands of words you still had to write when it came to the labs for biology class, or the analysis of catcher in the rye for english class, the words would replay in your head over and over. The soft melody accompanying them. Humming to the song had become a habit, one that had developed like how one realizes that they bit ethier lip, or thumbs when they are stressed or bored. A habit that once you realize it’s there you can’t help but notice it every time you do it. The notebook paper continues to rustle, and you fold it and place it into the pocket of the black jean jacket, taking a deep breath as you do so. Unlike summer nights and winter afternoons, spring doesn't feel suffocating when the sun is out, because the clouds do a job of covering the sun before it burns your skin. The wind dies down, and you begin to humm to the sonnet, the words so familiar you were almost sure if your memory was to be taken, those words would remain embedded, and make their way back up because they were an acceptance of everything you were and everything you felt. 

The final bell has rang, and you can see the swarm of teenage bodies rush out of the school, some go directly to the bus stop in groups, others head to the grass fields that make up most of the school's building. You don’t think much about where others go, don’t dwell much if they get home safely or if their parents will pick them up. Dwelling too much on thoughts a feeling never helped anybody, it’s a mantra that has been drilled into you and almost every other teenager and young adult in this lifetime as movies and books tell you to focus on the present never on the future and most definitely not in the future. Yet you wonder if these books written by great authors that make you question the world around you, or movies that seem to transcend time if the authors themselves that preach about not dwelling too much on one moment if they themselves spent too much time focusing on the sound of their love’s laughter, or the way their nose would scrunch up a reaction to the world around them anytime they found something amusing. You wonder if the person or memory they were told or did think about so much that it caused them heartache had the ability to make them write the poems you had written. So you try to not dwell on the people, no larger than your thumb as they rush from one side of the campus to another, because if you thought about him, it, for too long the memories would rush back in. Instead you look down, the light vertigo causing you to snap back into some realm of reality. 

 Sitting down on the roof’s edge, legs dangling off the edge you continue to hum and sing to the melody that plays in your heart, confession to yourself, a confession to the dark haired boy that captured your heart. The tears seem to swell up over and over as you reach the bridge, and they stream silently, down your face. They run down landing on your hands, on the ripped jeans and doodle converse. Your mind drifts to the memories connected with the lyrics and the fact that as much as you wanted to not want to hear jeno’s voice especially after you had pushed him away, you couldn’t get rid of the way he knew you. He knew you better than at times you almost thought you knew yourself, it was a nuisance the way your heart would skip beats months after everything went down, how it would still accelerate when you two would make eye contact because he had apologized and you don’t know if it was because you had never felt this way before, or because you two kept meeting underneath the moonlight the same song that seemed to connect the two of in one string of fate that you had forgiven him. But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, it didn’t mean that you had wished he’d called and you hate him - or lack thereof to do so - when days passed and the beep boop ba a compilation of random noises jeno would make whenever he was confused, and your ringtone for him didn’t disturb you. 

Your voice breaks slightly as the melody in your head falls, fading into a non-existent background. The sun had begun to fall, but you don’t notice, eyes closed as you take in the world around you. Notes ending, song and the hum of love never confessed, never expressed, stolen by the wind. And that’s the thing about having your eyes closed, oblivious to the world and the people around you, because you don’t hear the opening and closing of the slightly rusted door. You don’t notice the boy with a leather jacket, hair almost covering his eyes that are filled with so much love but confusion by the words that leave your mouth. It’s the thing about the wind, that it takes a message and delivers it to whom it wants you unlike a phone call that is directed at who you choose. The wind is a free spirit, and it doesn’t travel far. To be more exact it travels the short span of a mere seconds, a mere feet to jeno whose mouth has fallen at the sound of your voice so raw and pure. It is the wind that calls him to you, the wind that makes him take slow steps to you. 

Wind, a warm breeze in the coming summer air, love that you don’t realize you have, you need until it’s wrapping its arms around you.

                         But mostly i hate the way i don’t hate you.

The moment you feel arms wrapping around you still. Every bone in your body stops moving, your legs stop swinging and your voice catches in your throat. It isn’t until you spot the small cassette tattoo on the wrist of the arms wrapped around you that you breathe again and push yourself back, a curse escaping your lips. Laughter rings in your ears as jeno holds you up from where you sit, and turns you around so that you face him. You begin to push him away, on instinct from weeks of telling yourself that you wanted nothing to do with the boy in front of you. That the way his eyes dimmed, and lips curved down by the light gesture of pushing him away didn’t affect you. It was a mantra, push him away, don’t get hurt, a mantra produced by a time of hurt and fear for being broken again. Something that you had come to realize though in the past week, the past day, past couple of minutes when someone’s arms had warped around you and you had wished it had been jeno, that the heart and the mind don’t always coincide. 

It is when you look up again, and jeno is already looking at you, hair illuminated by the descending sun, as it casted flames dancing across his features, and lighting up his eyes, that you smile. Some sort of smile that repairs something in jeno, because his eyes seem to be filled with hope again and he opens his mouth ready to speak, ready to tell you everything he wanted to say again, mostly to apologize but when he opens his mouth the words seem to be caught in his throat. Stuck, as if there was some force pulling them back, not letting them escape and reach you. Mouth opens and closes again, and it’s the sound of your voice as you call to him, and say something he can’t quite process, blocked by the noise that doesn’t leave his head that he can finally speak again. 

“June 21” those weren’t supposed to be the words that lef this mouth, and your confused look didn’t give him any confidence to continue whatever the hell he was gonna do, which at this point he truly didn’t know because this was supposed to be an apology but he had already apologized. Jeno decided to do his best, and try again, “that was the day we met. The day you helped me finish composing this beautiful song that helped me get into music school. The day where the second i heard you singing off the words i threw out into the open air hoping for someone to grab onto, you did, and my heart seemed to begin it’s freefall” a small smile graced your features, as you remembered the day, not knowing how much life would change. The small smile is all jeno needed to continue, gaining confidence even as happiness filled every inch of you, tears that you promised you wouldn’t shed in front of him steamed but not from sadness or anger this time. This time they were from a place of loss and happiness to the boy whose eyes conveyed so much more than the words he spoke, whose hand had come up to your cheek wiping away the spare tears that would come down. Ever so gentle and full, always him. 

“It was something I didn't think was possible, you know? Coming to this new school, everyone had come up with their own ideas of who i was, because of stories they had heard, only to find you. Headstrong as ever, always standing by whatever you believe even some like pluto is still a planet” you both laugh, it’s a quick one, more like a chuckle but it’s filled with joy, at the memory. “You who didn’t care what the world thought, only that if you put your mind to it you would get it done. I never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to make you cry because of something that shouldn’t have ever happened, I never meant to get you too hate me the way you probably do” his eyes softened, and he pulled away ever so slightly, “but here I am. And i now i most definitely don’t deserve it but y/n, i can’t deny it because since i first heard your voice that late night i think i fell for you, and it has been a constant free fall from there. So when i say it now, i mean it i fucking love you” the end was more of a ramble, a long list of words that made your heart flip and expand in your chest, making your smile grow and you could see the doubt in his eyes, you could see him retreat back into himself, he completely let you go when you spoke up again, “you want to know what i hate the most?” you didn’t wait for a response before speaking again, grabbing his hands in yours, and you willed him to look at you. 

“I hate the way that I don't hate you” you take a step closer to him, your faces so close the sun casting glows on you both. Two shadows becoming one behind you as the sun set, as one confessed to another the way they felt. “Because i don’t hate you, jeno. In fact it’s the opposite, because hate is not even close, not a tiny bit in resemblance to what i feel you for you,

Not even close, Not even a little bit,  Not even at all.” 

adfghjk and it’s finally done !!! i had so so so much fun writing this piece and seriously hope you guys enjoyed it !! im such a sucker for jeno and this movie in general lol. i struggled w the ending so i hope it came out well :) n e ways,,, please please tell me your thoughts on it, what you liked? what you didn’t like? things i could improve on. much love to you all !!

masterlist

[keanureevesisbae]

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: After a short two day break, Adelaide finally comes back to the cottage. During their next challenge however, things don’t go to plan. 

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 7.9k (I know, this is a lot, but I don’t know what happened to me

Warnings: Descriptions of a haunted house and what can be found in them.

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I’ve been here in Italy for a week and a half now, but I have to take a small break, because the I had to travel to Switzerland. It was only for two days, to sign some papers and meet up with the director. The filming process isn’t starting for three more months, but it’s nice to know a bit more about it and to finally see the director in real life.

Plus it felt like I finally had time to breath, when I’m not being surrounded by camera’s. Henry and I prerecorded our challenges, so the schedule isn’t messed up.

Two days ago, the second episode aired and I actually liked the way people write about us and me. For once I’m not the ditz, but I’m the daredevil and actually quite smart.

I’m in the back of a taxi, as the driver soars over the roads. Thankfully he can’t hear me because of the plastic that separates us and from the looks of it, he doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s a good thing, because I see my dad wants to FaceTime me. ‘Hi,’ I say when I pick up.

Ever since I have been making a lot of money, he started to look even better and better. Not because I’m paying for his botox, but because he finally can relax. Years of overworking himself, stressing over me and my mom, it took a toll on him. Though he still works hard to make sure my mom is happy, it’s nothing compared to what he had to do.

The smile on my father’s face when he sees me is priceless. Even when I was younger, his entire face would light up when he saw me. I’m happy to know that I still have that effect on my dad, even when there is an ocean in between us and we’re on FaceTime. ‘You look so pretty,’ is the first thing he tells me.

He is an absolute sweetheart. ‘Thank you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a taxi, appa. I went to Switzerland for my new movie. Now I’m on my way back to Italy, to the cottage I’m staying at.’

‘Right,’ he says. He tilts his head. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Don’t you like the show?’

He smiles, holding his phone very close to his face, as if he is closer to me then. ‘I do, but you look tired.’

I simply shrug. ‘I’m okay. How is eomma? She likes the show?’

Dad nods. ‘She is resting now, but she loves the show. Tell me, you like this Henry guy?’

Why am I blushing? What a way to give yourself away, Adelaide Park. ‘I like being around him, yes.’

‘Don’t lie,’ he says. ‘I taught you better than to lie to your appa. You like like him, right? I can tell, you know. Your smile when you’re with him tells me enough and you do that thing.’

My brows furrow together. ‘What thing?’

‘You touchy.’

‘That sounds perverted,’ I say. ‘And by the way, I’m not touchy.’

‘You are,’ dad tells me and this man is dead serious. ‘You touch his arm in your sleep. You always do that when you sleep, touch the other person. I remember when you were little girl, maybe five, and it was summer. It was very hot. Normally at that age, you always lay next to me, very close, because you were scared. But it was too hot, so you only placed your hand on my arm, because you couldn’t sleep without psychically knowing that I was there.’

I’m so grateful that there are no camera’s around, because this is one way to get exposed.

‘Also, you are happy around him. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time,’ he says with a smile.

I lean my head against the head rest. ‘I’m always happy,’ I tell him. ‘Not just because of him.’

He simply nods. ‘I see you don’t want to talk about it. That’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to talk about your love life with your appa.’

‘This is barely a love life,’ I chuckle.

‘It’s more than you have now.’

I purse my lips together, to not burst out into laughter. ‘Thanks for putting it into perspective.’

‘You take good care of yourself?’

‘Yes, dad.’

He nods. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ he says in all seriousness. ‘Only a daughter of mine eats fried spider like it’s nothing.’

I keep thinking about that challenge. It was disgusting, sure, but it’s true what I said: I can eat anything. One time, we didn’t have anything to eat and my dad was desperate. After spending an entire day at school, with only half an apple, I was starving and crying. It was pretty rough weather outside, so he couldn’t go on his usual round of finding food behind the restaurants, something he did when it was a situation like this. He went to the garden and found us some earthworms. My mom refused to eat it, after dad sort of made a meal out of it. She told him she wasn’t going to accept that we were that poor that we needed to eat earthworms.

What was next? He was going to snatch the snails out of the yard? He was going to catch a pigeon? Go fishing in the lake a few kilometers from our house?

They started fighting. My mom was mad at my dad, my dad thought she was being ungrateful. Just to stop them from fighting, I ate the fried earthworm and despite it being disgusting, I was too hungry and needed something in my stomach. It instantly stopped them from fighting and my dad was proud of me eating it. My mom even ate one, because she didn’t want me to think any less of her, she told me years later.

We talk for a bit and then he has to hang up, since he needs to do some groceries. I stare at the picture he send me yesterday. We don’t have many pictures of us from when I was younger, but he actually found the only one we have of the three of us. It was during Christmas. Both him and my mom were home when I was seven and the neighbor came over with her polaroid camera. She made a picture of us and during a clean up session, my dad found it again.

I remember what he texted with the picture: I loved you when you were born, I loved you when you were my little princess and I still love you now you are my hardworking princess. I’m so proud of you.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts, when I see that Henry wants to FaceTime. I answer the call and see his handsome face appear on my screen. ‘There you are,’ he says, a grin spread across his face. ‘Are you almost home?’

Home. I never had a place that I called home. It was always the people that made a place home. My parents were my home and since I moved out for my career in the acting industry, I have an apartment where I stay, but it’s never a home. I can’t seem to turn it into a home.

But staying in this cottage with Henry, felt homey, but I didn’t dare to call it a home, not wanting to come across weird or desperate.

However Henry does it now and it makes my heart skip a beat.

I look at the navigation screen and say: ‘Forty minutes.’

‘I miss you,’ he admits.

This shouldn’t make me blush like it does right now. I can’t stop my smile. ‘You miss me?’ I teasingly ask.

‘A whole lot, Addy. The place is so quiet without you here.’ He flashes me a dashing smile and sits outside on the doorstep, in the nice evening sun. ‘How was Switzerland?’

‘It was okay,’ I tell him. ‘The place where we are going to shoot is beautiful.’

‘Did the director have someone in mind for the love interest?’

I nod. ‘Yes, he is thinking about asking David Castañeda again. We also starred in another movie together and he liked our chemistry.’

When I told Henry about what the movie was about, he simply raised his eyebrows. It’s about a woman who goes to Switzerland, she is a journalist and needs to write a story about a mysterious man who owns way too many dogs and no one seems to understand him.

I don’t really need to explain how the rest of the movie will go, since it’s still a romantic comedy, thus pretty self explanatory what is going to happen.

‘But if David says no…?’

‘We’re back at square one,’ I say. ‘You sure I can’t pursue you?’

‘You, Addy, can pursue me any day.’ He winks at me, but I don’t understand the joke. ‘I think you wanted to persuade me, not pursue me.’

Oh shit, this is embarrassing. I’m tempted to open the car door while we’re going this fast, simply to throw myself out. ‘Yeah, I meant persuade. Sorry, English is hard.’

Henry smiles, but it disappears when he looks at me on his screen and he tilts his head in the process. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You have watery eyes.’

I clear my throat, before I blink away the tears in my eyes, because I indeed have watery eyes. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘Sure?’

Though I want to tell him a bit more about my private life, the words never roll out of my mouth. Like something is physically stopping me. However, now I say: ‘My dad called me. Just wanted to know how I was.’

Henry nods. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Think eight months ago. I just miss him a lot, just like I miss my mom.’

‘Understandably so.’ He leans against the doorframe, while he simply stares at his screen. ‘What did they think of the show?’

‘They liked it, but they like every single thing I’m in. They rewatch interviews, movies and episodes of Remembering High School when they miss me.’ I smile, thinking about the millions of videos that my dad send me of them rewatching episodes. He would film himself and say sweet things about how his daughter is the most talented one on the screen, or that his daughter is the prettiest. I know that he sends those videos to me, but he also sends them to friends. ‘I think I just realized now how much I miss them.’

‘That’s totally understandable,’ Henry says. ‘Are you going to visit them once this is over?’

‘I think so.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, they can be proud of you and they should be. I am proud of you too,’ he says. ‘I mean, you totally put me to shame with that food challenge. I even got a message from Angela Bassett, saying how you are by far the coolest and that I’m a wimp.’

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet and she is right.’

We talk for a while and those forty minutes fly by. The taxi stops in front of the cottage and Henry stands up with a bright smile. He always looks so happy to see me. The chauffeur hands me my bag and after I thanked him, he gets in again and drives off. Henry walks over to me and snakes his arms around my waist, lifting me up after he pulled me close to his body. ‘I’m happy to know that you aren’t going to leave me here again in this cottage,’ he says. ‘It felt like every second went by at least seven times.’

Sure, what he said was sweet, but I can’t seem to focus on those words, since this is the tightest hug someone has given me, apart from my parents of course. This is actually the first time he is hugging me. I press my nose in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent and I close my eyes.

I’m really home now.

He lets go of me way too quickly. ‘I made you dinner.’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘What did you make me?’

‘Pasta bolognese. When in Rome, right?’ He points a daring finger at me and says: ‘Don’t you dare say we aren’t in Rome.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ I chuckle. He holds out his hand and I give him my bag, before we walk into the cottage. During dinner, I tell him more about the movie and how beautiful the little town was where we’re going to film.

‘Isn’t it tiring, though?’ Henry asks. ‘To constantly play in romantic comedies?��

He asked me this before, but I didn’t know him that well to answer truthfully. Now I do know him well enough, to at least be sort of honest, without sounding like an ungrateful bitch. I simply shrug. ‘Sometimes I wished I would get other offers, but I guess I just have the face for romantic comedies.’

‘What kind of genre would you like to play in?’

‘Like a thriller or an action movie,’ I say. ‘More serious, you know? Maybe even Lara Croft one day. That would be amazing.’

‘You would nail Lara Croft,’ he says. ‘I feel like you have a lot of potential to play in tons of different movies. You would do great in a drama too, but a thriller is something I would like you to star in. Really different from what you do now.’

‘Don’t you ever want to play in a romantic comedy or something really serious?’ I ask him. ‘A drama for example?’

‘I would like to try it out one day,’ he says.

‘I think you would be great in a romantic comedy. You have that charm that women fall for.’

Henry cocks an eyebrow. ‘A charm you say?’

‘Yeah, exactly.’ I smile at him, stirring through my pasta. ‘What is a role you really want to portray one day? I mean, you already played Superman, that was pretty awesome.’

He nods. ‘Maybe James Bond one day.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘I mean… It’s James Bond. That’s almost every men’s dream.’ Henry takes a sip of his water, as he clearly is studying my face. ‘Why? Don’t you like James Bond?’

I shake my head. ‘My mom hated the movies with a passion when I was growing up. It’s kind of sexist, really. I feel like, if you should ever play a movie with something like that, you should look into a movie where they create a whole new legendary character. Just like Keanu Reeves is the start of a John Wick legacy, you could be the start of something else.’ I smile at him, before adding: ‘You deserve better than to portray James Bond, Henry.’

He plays with his food for a second, before he looks at me again. ‘You think so?’

I nod. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’ll consider it.’

After we finish our dinner, I take a shower and get dressed in my pajamas. Despite the fact that I only drove back to the cottage today from Switzerland, I am really tired. Before I would go to bed early, simply to avoid falling in sleep in front of him, but now we usually get in bed together. We talk about tons of stuff before we actually fall asleep, still with the wall of pillows between us.

My mind is nearly in Dreamland already. I turn on my side and wrap my leg and arm around the pillows, my fingertips accidentally caressing his soft skin. ‘You don’t mind me doing this?’ I groggily whisper, still remembering my dad’s words that I’m apparently doing that thing.

‘I don’t,’ Henry says. ‘I think it’s sweet.’

I open my eyes for a brief second and I see him already looking at me, a smile toying on his face.

‘Go to sleep, Addy. Tomorrow you and I go swimming in the morning, remember?’

‘Oh right,’ I yawn, closing my eyes again. Somehow my hand finds his and I hesitate for a second. Should I pull my hand back or just leave it here? Thankfully I don’t have to think about that, because Henry wraps his fingers through mine and whispers: ‘Good night, Adelaide.’

‘Good night,’ I mumble, slowly drifting off to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next morning, I’m back in the insanely cold pool again with Henry. We’ve done this two times before now, but I still don’t trust myself enough to do something alone in the water. Even if it’s just holding the edge, as I’m sort of swimming by myself, Henry close by. I know that even if I do that, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

‘No, no, no,’ I quickly say, when he suggests that same idea, for the second time this morning. ‘Don’t let go of me, please.’

‘Addy, have I ever let go of you, when you didn’t want me to?’ he asks me. He decides to answer his own question. ‘No, I have never done that, so I’m not going to do that now. I’m just going to remove one hand from your waist to hold your hand, okay?’

‘No,’ I whine.

Henry starts to chuckle. ‘What’s up with you today?’ he asks. ‘You’re shaking. Is the water that cold or are you scared?’

‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘I know that I have to do it myself one day and at least try a bit alone, but not today. Please.’

‘Okay, not today,’ he assures me. ‘You seem a bit tense. Is everything okay?’

I sigh. ‘I just got a text from my dad this morning,’ I whisper, but loud enough for him to hear it, maybe not loud enough for the “hidden” camera’s that are stationed in the garden to pick up. ‘It’s just that my mom has a cold and that always worries me.’

‘Why?’ he asks, as he stops walking in the water.

I don’t want to tell him, but I know that I eventually will. My arms are wrapped around his shoulders, while his fingers are circling on my skin. It’s such a small, yet caring gesture from his side. ‘My mom is paralyzed from the waist down,’ I tell him. ‘But… She… After she got paralyzed, she never got back to her old health, if that makes sense. She is very prone to colds and a simply cold can turn into a nasty flu and that can result into her needing to go to the hospital. She ended up in the emergency room a few times and each time I wasn’t home. My dad always tells me not to worry about her, just like my mom tells me not to worry, but it’s hard. I worry a lot about them all the time, especially when she’s sick.’

Henry doesn’t say anything, he simply studies my face. ‘I had no idea,’ he tells me. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me towards his body and I nuzzle my face in his neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Addy. I understand you worry a lot about them, but… I just have to ask: why don’t you tone it down with the movies, so you can be with them?’

I pull back and say: ‘Because… I want to provide for them.’

‘Why?’ His blue eyes almost look innocent. I have to hold myself in, not to brush the wet curls out of his face, not to press my nose against his cheek, to kiss his jaw, feeling the short hairs puncture my lips. I can’t stop myself falling in love with him. He is everything that I was apparently looking for in a man. He is kind, he is patient and he is caring. He knows how to cook, he can read me like the back of his hand and yesterday, the way he held my hand when I went to sleep, is making me feel all sorts of things.

But there is one thing that I know: if he ever becomes a bigger part of my life, he should know more about me. I have been dodging it for too long now, but I should tell him. And even if we don’t become an item, I know that we will end up as friends. I know that after the Celebrity Project ends, I don’t ever want him out of my life again.

‘When I grew up, we were very poor,’ I say. ‘Like, my dad had to work long hours in a factory, my mom became a live in nanny and I had to raise myself. My dad barely ate after a long day of work, so mom and I could have most of it, when my mom would be home to eat it. I went to one of the only schools that was close by and was free. It wasn’t a great school, I don’t even think my teachers remember me at all. We couldn’t afford testing for me, something that my parents didn’t even know about, because they couldn’t miss a day at their jobs and I did my own parent teacher meetings.’

‘Geez, Adelaide,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I clear my throat, because I don’t want to cry. ‘When I was nineteen, I was working at a diner, to help meet ends back at home, since I couldn’t go to college, my mom was hit by a car and left paralyzed. The medical bills were out of the roof and she needed physical therapy, but we couldn’t afford it. And that’s the whole reason I started acting in ‘Remembering High School’. I had zero acting experience, but I needed the money. After I made that money and my year on the show was up, I got offered two different movies. A romantic comedy or a thriller, but from the looks of it, the romantic comedy would definitely make more. Thankfully I chose that movie, because the thriller was a big flop. Every penny I earned from that movie and a few after that, went to my parents, for their bills.’

Henry nods and removes his hand from my waist, so he can wipe the tears of my cheeks.  Not that it helps, since his hand is still wet from the water. ‘You are amazing,’ he says. ‘I think you are by far the most amazing woman on this earth. Do you still do that? Give your money to your parents?’

I nod. ‘I don’t really know what I should do with it and my parents worked so hard for me. This is my way of thanking them.’

Henry pulls me closer to him, his arms around my body and I let out a tiny sob that I was holding in, when I bury my face in his strong shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘If you want to go home, you just go home, okay? I totally understand. Your family is more important than this show.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘No, no, no, don’t say something like that. I understand. It’s very personal and this isn’t something that you just tell people. You are amazing, Addy, please remember that, okay?’

I nod, before slowly pulling back, so I can look at him again. Henry is smiling. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘You just keep on surprising,’ he says. ‘And in these days that I’m spending time with you, I’ve gotten to know you in a way that I never thought would be possible. Angela spoke so highly of you, though she barely knew you. Now I know you quite well and I can’t speak anything but highly of you.’

I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I will anyways,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get out of the pool now, you are freezing.’ We go to the edge and when I climbed out, I grab my towel and wrap it around me. Henry’s perfectly shaped body, with the right hip-shoulder ratio… I can’t help but look.

‘Henry,’ I say, causing him to look up. ‘Thank you.’

He chuckles. ‘Not a single problem, Adelaide.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Dad: No need to worry. Eomma will make it, it’s a tiny flu.

Adelaide: Sure?

Dad: More than sure. Enjoy your time.

Dad: I love you 😘

Adelaide: I love you too 😘

I keep thinking about my dad’s texts. I mean, he tells me that it will be alright and I should believe him. Back in the day, he was always right and that shouldn’t change now.

After our little swimming adventure, Henry and I got ready for the day and now we’re standing in front of a haunted house, waiting for the host of today to get ready. What exactly the challenge is for today, I don’t know, but I’m not looking forward to it at all.

The rest on the other hand seem to be totally fine. Henry places both of his hands on my shoulders and I look back, placing the top of my head against his chest. Even upside down, he is beautiful looking. I bet I look like a moron. ‘Are you okay?’ he quietly asks.

‘I’m fine.’ Thankfully over the course of the years, I have become a better liar, which I think is a skill thanks to my acting career. I have always been a master at hiding my emotions, but when people get closer to me (just my parents, but nowadays Henry too), it’s harder, because they see right through me.

And right now, I’m not fine. My mom is sick and I don’t know how she is doing as we speak. We have to go through the haunted house and I’m afraid that they are going to make us go individually. I really want to go with Henry, because then I can just hop on his back, bury my face in his neck and not look.

However, this show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever participated in, because we have to go through the haunted house all by ourselves, while even doing some challenges while we’re inside.

My heart is racing and I can’t even look at the big screen outside of the house, without jumping. Henry is still standing behind me, with his hands still on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles to make them less tense. ‘Relax,’ he whispers, when someone else is going inside. ‘You’re going to be fine.’

But I can’t believe him. I’m not going to be fine. Justin screams his lungs out when someone pops up in front of him, as he is trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Jennifer is hiding in a corner, while she is singing one of her own songs. And when it’s Henry’s turn, he has to solve a sudoku, but he jumps at every little sound and that is really not easing my mind. If a man like him, who nearly tripped over his own feet because I moved the fried tarantula in his face, screams like this when he hears water drip on the floor, how the hell am I supposed to do this?

After watching everyone else go, it’s time for me. I feel like my petite frame reminds them of a kindergartner, because they all wish me extra good luck. Jennifer even pulls me into a motherly hug and whispers that I’ve got this.

But do I have it in me to finish this?

I push open the door and I step into the house of horrors. I could eat the most disgusting looking snacks and people called me a daredevil. I can manage this. This isn’t that terrifying. It’s just fake, it’s like acting.

Only this set looks scary as hell and there is no one out here to say cut.

The lights start to flicker, something they didn’t do before. How am I supposed to read and answer eventual questions if I have to do that? I take a step forward, but my heart is pounding so loud, that my eardrums hurt.

The steps are minuscule, but at least I’m taking steps forward. Every door, every corner, every closed window… It makes me hesitant, but so far, nothing has happened. Maybe the actors that work here feel sorry for me.

I could crawl over the floor, I think to myself. Maybe that would be—

Something falls down from the ceiling and bounces on the floor. I jump backwards, letting out a scream that is more a high whistle note. When I finally can open my eyes again, I notice it’s a head and just a head. ‘It’s fake,’ I tell myself out loud. ‘It’s fake.

But then the head starts to scream, causing me to scream and a tiny sob escapes my lips. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

I quickly jump over it and hurry myself through the rest of the hall.

Because I’m simply just walking and not paying attention, I bump into a wall and I go left, but someone with a fucking knife comes out of the door and I stumble backwards. Thankfully this person keeps standing in the doorframe and I crawl past them, but he or she keeps standing in the doorway, not attacking me. ‘Thank you,’ I squeak, my throat tightening, almost like someone is physically choking me.

Okay, I managed this and I see a clipboard with some questions on a table. I press my back against the wall, so I can see everyone.

What is the capital of Russia? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, I think to myself. If these are the questions, I’m out of here within a minute.

I hear footsteps and the light that was flickering two seconds ago, is completely out. It’s dark. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I can’t see anything, but I hear screams and dark voices. I try to catch my breath, when the light come back on and I’m surrounded by a bloody nurse, a creepy clown and oh my, is that not one, but three zombies? They are really close to me and I can’t help up but scream bloody murder, as I hide my face behind the clipboard. ‘No, go away, go away!’

Is that a fucking chainsaw?

I open my eyes for a second, only to see that someone who looks like Chucky is really close now with a chainsaw. This doesn’t seem fake anymore. This seems way too real and my brain is going crazy. What is happening? Am I dying?

I start to cough, as the tears run over my cheeks. ‘No, stop, please!’

I hear something, but the pounding of my heart is too hard for me to hear what is happening. All I can do is cry, shake and cough as the tears nearly make me choke.

‘Addy, I’m here,’ I hear a voice say, but I keep hiding my face in my face, kicking my feet and I hit something. ‘Ouch, no, no, it’s me, Henry. Don’t worry, it’s all over.’

I peek through my fingers, to see the lights are on and all the scary people that cornered me, are gone. The only one I see now, is Henry. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes hurt from crying. I try to say something, but my breathing is all over the place.

Henry holds my hands and places one on my own chest and the other on his. ‘Try to breath with me, Adelaide,’ he says to me. ‘Now breath in deeply.’ He takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, before slowly breathing out. I try to copy him, but my breathing is too erratic. It takes at least ten times before I’m finally sort of managing. ‘Very good,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘Very good.’

‘Is it over?’ I whimper.

Henry nods, holding my hand tightly in his. ‘It’s all over. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and I’m sorry I didn’t come in here way sooner. I should’ve noticed that this was too much.’

‘Did we lose?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says sternly. ‘You shouldn’t worry about that.’ Henry stands up and pulls me with him, but my legs feel like jello and simply give out, because of all the adrenaline that is breaking down. I cling onto his shirt, as he holds me up by my waist.

‘I can’t anymore,’ I cry, as I bury my face into his shirt, not caring about wiping my tears on the fabric. ‘I’m so scared.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘Fuck, I know.’ He hoists me up in his arms, guiding me into wrapping my legs around his waist. ‘Don’t look,’ he tells me.

I don’t even want to look at this awful, awful place anymore, so I bury my face into his neck, as he walks out of the haunted house. He places me on the soft grass and he runs his fingers through my disheveled hair. ‘Addy, listen to me,’ he says, ‘you’re breathing is good, but you need to make sure that it stays like this okay?’

I simply nod. ‘I’m just so embarrassed.’

‘There is absolutely no need to be embarrassed,’ he tells me. ‘You can stop with this program if you want. I mean, I totally understand that you want to quit.’

‘I think I just want tomorrow off,’ I whisper. ‘And do nothing.’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘You want to go home?’

Home. ‘As long as you are there.’

Henry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving you, Addy. Not after this.’

◎ ◎ ◎

When Henry and I are home, I feel disgusting. I could actually use a shower, but I’m too afraid of standing in the shower cabin by myself and I don’t want to shower with Henry (our friendship is too fragile for that), so a simple washing cloth should do the trick.

The producers of the Celebrity Project gave me the next day off and depending on how I feel after tomorrow, I will decide whether or not I’m staying here. I don’t want to give up and I think I can overcome this.

Henry sits next to me on the couch, as we both stare at the television. We have been watching Mamma Mia, simply because of the ABBA songs and the story line is predictable and predictability is exactly what I need right now. ‘You want something to drink?’ he asks me, when the credits are rolling on the screen.

I shake my head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Do you want to go to bed?’ he suggests. ‘We could do that. I bet you are tired.’

I am tired and the fact that he said that we could do that, must indicate that he is going to stay with me, right? I simply nod and he says he is going to close off. To be alone is not what I want right now, so I follow him around the cottage like a puppy.

When we’re in bed, I ask him if he wants to leave the light on his nightstand on. I still sit up straight in bed, my arms wrapped around my knees. Henry places a hand on my back.

‘I’m scared,’ I whisper, as I feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

He sighs deeply. ‘I know. Is there anything I can do for you?’

I turn my head to the side, so I can look at him. ‘Can… Can you… Can you hold me, please?’ Tears burn in my eyes. ‘I’m so scared, Henry.’

He throws the pillows from the bed, before I crawl into his inviting arms. I place my head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his waist. ‘Breath, Addy,’ he whispers. ‘It’s all okay now, I’m right here with you. Nothing can happen to you now.’

However, the tears come again and they aren’t stopping. His large hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath my eye. He lets me cry, even though I have been crying a lot for the past few hours.

I force myself to stop, because I’m out of breath and I’m just too tired to cry anymore. Henry pulls me closer to his broad and heavy frame.

‘There, there,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are all okay now.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper.

‘No need to be sorry, Addy. You just try and go to sleep, because you are really tired and after this day… You should just sleep, okay?’

During the night, I wake up a few times, but every single time I’m closely tugged into Henry’s protective arms. Sometimes he is behind me, his face buried in my neck or my hair, our hands linked. Sometimes I have my head on his shoulder and then my face is nuzzled in his neck. But every time I wake up, he is still awake. ‘Go back to sleep,’ he whispers, his fingers drawing soothing circles on my skin.

And as if his voice is working like hypnosis, I drift off right back to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next day, Henry has been nothing but a sweetheart to me and halfway through the day, I feel a whole lot better and decide to stay here and finish the competition. I don’t care that we are last and that we are probably going to lose anyways.

The two of us decide to take a walk through a large orchard, with trees filled with apples and oranges. We end up on a lovely field and I plop down in the grass. The sun is burning on my skin, but I chose a spot near a tree, so we can alternate between sitting in the sun and the shadows.

Henry and I lean against the tree when the sun is too hot for us to sit in, as we stare ahead of us. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I was wondering something.’

‘Tell me.’

‘You kept your personal life very private over the course of the years. Why was that?’

‘I thought it wasn’t anyones business.’ I look to the side and chuckle. ‘That’s the I try to be really tough-answer, but the truth is: I was embarrassed. No one at school knew about my situation at home and I certainly didn’t want the entire world to know.’

‘You didn’t have any friends?’

I shake my head. ‘Yet again: I was too embarrassed to share this with anyone. Besides, I was the weird girl who wore the same clothes for three days on end.’

‘Kids can be cruel,’ he says, referring to his own past.

I wrap my arms around his strong one, pressing my cheek against his bicep. ‘They can.’

‘Can I ask something else?’

‘You can.’

‘Have you ever dated?’

I place my chin on his arm, so I can actually look at him again. ‘No, I have never.’

‘You have played alongside quite a few single guys. Was there not a spark in real life?’

‘Goodness gracious, Henry, you sound like you’re in a retirement home. A spark in real life? Really?’

He chuckles. ‘You get what I’m saying.’

‘I do,’ I say with a smile. ‘But to answer your question, no, there wasn’t. I mean, I remain in contact with some of them and we’re still friendly, but I never let them in. Not like how I’m with you.’ I place my cheek against his bicep again, but one of my hands slides down his arm. He intertwines his fingers with mine and his thumb draws soft figures on my skin.

Henry nods. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you are really one of a kind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you do something that no one else does. You haven’t mentioned my appearance once since we are here.’

‘Really?’ I ask frowning. ‘I thought about your appearance quite a few times.’

He smiles. ‘But you never voiced it. You know, it’s flattering that people comment about my appearance, but you don’t do that. You comment about my personality traits and I don’t want to become all sappy, but… It means a lot.’

‘You are sappy,’ I mumble, causing him to laugh. ‘But since we are being sappy with one another, I should tell you that… You are one of a kind too. You give me a chance. I remember one of the first times I was having issues with speaking and you didn’t fill in the rest. You just waited till I could finish my sentence. That means… a lot. Also, Henry, you… You ran into the haunted house for me.’

‘How…’

‘I saw the footage,’ I say with a smile, remembering what I saw this morning.

He was standing outside, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a deep frown between his brows. ‘Can you just leave the lights on?’ he asked. ‘Flickering lights make it harder for Adelaide to concentrate.’

But there was no response. He shook his head, clenched his jaw and eventually he simply walked away. He went in the haunted house, pressed the “Stop” button, before rushing towards me, pulling some of the actors away. ‘It’s over,’ he told them. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

After seeing the footage, it made my heart swell like crazy. ‘Quite romantic, really,’ I chuckle.

He laughs, but it sounds more nervous this time. ‘Well… It was nothing.’

‘It meant the world to me,’ I retort. And because of that, I think I’m even more in love with you than I already was. However it doesn’t leave my lips. I don’t want to scare him off.

‘This never happened to me before,’ Henry says. ‘Feeling about someone like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how I feel about you.’ He squeezes my hand, before continuing by saying: ‘I care so much about you, Adelaide. Before you told me about your life, after you told me about your life. Even if we don’t win this contest, I did win something else. I won the privilege to get to know you.’

‘You care for me,’ I repeat, letting those words process for a bit. But that’s not falling in love with me.

‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m slowly falling for you too.’

I resit, so I don’t strain my neck when I look at him. ‘What?’

He holds my hand tightly in his, as if he is afraid that I might slip away. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Adelaide Park.’

I bite my lip. ‘You are?’

‘I am,’ he confirms. ‘Even if we don’t win this show, I want to figure out how we can manage after this. Maybe you can even tone it down with your movies.’

I chuckle, hiding my face in my hand. ‘Maybe I can do that.’ I look at our linked hands and I whisper: ‘I’m falling love with you too, Henry Cavill.’

‘You are?’ he asks with a smile. ‘Lucky me.’

We don’t say anything. I just look into his eyes, trying to figure out what he is thinking. I can see him staring at my lips, before he moistens his own. ‘When I kiss you,’ he says, ‘there is one problem. I fear that I can’t stop then, but I also want us to remain a little secret. For time being of course.’

I nod. ‘Then you don’t kiss me.’

‘But I want to,’ he chuckles.

‘You have to pick one of the options.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I mean…’ I purse my lips together. ‘I wouldn’t mind if we kissed.’

Henry pulls me closer by my hand. I lose a bit of my balance, so I fall against his chest. ‘Careful now, Addy,’ he chuckles. ‘We don’t want any injuries, now do we?’

‘Shut up.’ I finally place my hand on his cheek and as my thumb is slowly caressing his soft skin, I accidentally graze over his velvety lips. He turns his head, to kiss the palm of my hand.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks against my skin, as he places his hand on mine, so he can press another, but more firm kiss on the inside of my hand. ‘You can say no.’

‘I want to kiss you,’ I hoarsely whisper. ‘Badly so.’

‘Badly so,’ he repeats with a self fulfilled grin on his face. He leans in closer to me and teasingly kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose and even my forehead. ‘Where?’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want me to kiss you?’

‘Right here,’ I whisper, before pressing my lips on his. They fit perfectly on each other. I cradle his face in my hands, as he pulls me closer to his body, though my legs are in the way. Without even thinking about it, I sit on his lap, causing him to smile underneath the kiss.

‘Badly so it was,’ he mumbles against my lips, his hands slipping underneath my shirt. He opens his mouth and carefully his tongue invades my mouth. I whimper, as his fingers dig into my back, his thumbs softly circling my stomach.

How many on screen kisses have I done?

Billions.

How many felt like this?

None.

I pull back, so I can catch my breath, but he is not giving me a break. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, pressing wet kisses on my delicate skin. ‘Can we stay here forever?’ he asks against my collarbone. ‘I don’t want to go back to the camera’s.’

‘Me neither,’ I whisper. I place my pointer finger underneath his chin, lifting his face. ‘How are we going to do this back at the cottage?’

‘Well,’ he chuckles, ‘we are already behaving like a cute couple, so we don’t have to change a lot about that. Just have to hold back the kisses.’

My fingers run through his curls, messing them up a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Henry simply smiles at me. ‘I think we can manage that,’ I say, smiling back at him.

‘Can I have another kiss?’ he asks.

‘You can,’ I whisper, before he captures my lips again. This kiss is even more intense and my fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt, when we hear someone clear their throat. We look up, to see a little boy staring at us, while his grandmother is screaming something in the back. ‘Maybe we should find another place,’ I suggest, stepping off his lap.

‘Yeah,’ Henry says, ‘maybe we should.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Adelaide: You were right.

Adelaide: I like Henry a lot

Dad: I’m always right

Adelaide: And I kissed him.

Dad: You didn’t?

Adelaide: I did, but please keep this a secret.

Dad: I can tell your eomma right?

Adelaide: Yes you can

Adelaide: I love you 😘

Dad: I love you too, future mrs. Cavill

Adelaide: Please, don’t.

◎ ◎ ◎

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @jolly-polly​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @maan24​ // @diegos-butt​ / @agniavateira​ // @onlyhenrys​ // @turkish276​ //

[jeagerism]

i think im lost again

+ word count : honestly idek, ill take a guess at maybe nearly 700-800?

+ characters : levi ackerman, armin arlert, mentions of eruri and eremin (armin and levi r not shipped fuck out of here)

+ warnings : season 3 attack on titan spoilers, mentions of death, modern!au, levi is basically a dad without being a dad (does that make him a dilf??), angst i suppose

+ summary : erwin was always good at this, levi thinks. people stuck to him like glue.

+ author's note : this is just a personal modern!au headcanon that i ranted to a friend abt and decided to make it full out

in modern aus i see eren as looking up to levi, bc he ooks up to him in the manga in some ways, levi cares abt his wellbeing n shit

well armin, since he was chosen to live over erwin, he'd look up to erwin in a modern au

and when erwin dies in that au bc ofc he has to die, armin is still a teenager.

i like to think that they all lived in the same town as kids, and erwin always looked out for armin since he had no one else other than his friends. 

he basically lets armin live with him when he's not with eren, who also has no family and sort of couch surfs between jean and sasha - sasha's dad loves eren for whatever reason so he stays there a lot, and welcomes armin and mikasa with him - and so erwin and armin r close

and levi is always around, so he sees armin a lot, even if he takes care of eren more - he lets eren stay at is house on nights when he feels like hes overstayed his welcome at sasha’s.

but levi still cares abt armin bc he sees how erwin cares abt armin and levi is in love with the blond facebook dad

but erwin died when armin is like 15, so he still needs someone to look out for him

and erwin asks levi to do that, bc he trusts him and knows levi would take care of him just like he had  

anyways, he asks levi to take care of him and levi does

but armin is a 15 yr old who just lost yet another person who cares abt him 

and even tho hes grateful that levi cares for him, he misses erwin so much. 

he acts out bc of it bc hes a kid going through trauma and its what kids do. he starts acting even worse than eren and eren is a fucking demon spawn

armin and eren share a room, even tho levi had two empty rooms so they could have their own, and eren has stuff in the other room but armin doesn’t like the dark so eren stays there with him.

and levi isn’t really good at taking care of kids in the traditional way. 

he wakes them up every weekday for school by telling them he'll kick their ass if he has to take them himself - but he'll still drive them when it rains or its cold  

he doesnt really know how to cook bc erwin always did that, but his notes app is full of recipes erwin always recommended that were easy to follow bc he was always worried that levi always ate too much cold leftovers from days before and noodles

armin knows hot to cook pretty well bc erwin taught him but he enjoys laughing at levi failing at cooking simple shit - he burned water somehow

but levi still tries so its fine

he tries letting armin know hes welcome, and that he can ask for whatever he needs

he'll leave him lunch money on the counter

and when he notices armins jackets getting a little too short around the wrist he drops a new one by his lap when he sits on the couch

he pulls the blanket all the way to his chin if he falls asleep on the couch.

he'll mention he's going to get a haircut when he notices armin's hair getting longer, and says he can go with him if he wants

but armin still acts so off. 

before erwin was gone, armin always acted happy, even though he never had much, and levi feels guilty knowing he cant do what erwin did for him, but he's doing this for erwin, and knows erwin wouldnt have put armin in his care in the first place if he didn’t trust him

i see taking care of armin as the task that keeps levi going, just like how killing zeke is what keeps him alive in the anime.

both promises he makes to erwin and wont give up on until he’s fulfilled it

but one day armin just disappears. he doesnt come back after school with eren like usual. so he and levi try calling him and get nothing. eren offers to go look for him and levi tells him to stay safe n waits back home to see if armin will show up there

and he does like 5 mins after eren leaves. 

and levi feels his chest just deflate with relief. it was cold outside, and armin was out there alone. 

his cheeks and nose r red from being outside for so long

when levi asks where he's been, it comes out harsher than he meant, but its just bc he was worried, and armin rolls his eyes and asks why it matters

levi tells him its bc he's a kid and doesnt get to just disappear without a trace whenever he wants. levi never minded armin doing whatever he wanted - within regulation - but most times he knew eren was with him, or mikasa, someone who would call him if something happened

and armin says “you're not my father.” and starts taking off his jacket and stuff

“yeah, but i am the person who's taking care of your ass.”

and that seems to make armin a little more ticked off than he already was, bc he turns to levi and says, “well i never asked you to do that.”

to which levi replies without thinking, “no but erwin did”

levi and armin never talk abt erwin, ever.

its like an unspoken rule between them. its not that they arent as comfortable with each other - they arent anyways but - they just dont do that, talk abt how they feel abt erwin, and him being gone

armin looks like hes gonna cry before he just says “well i wish it was erwin that was still here instead of you”

ALMOST AS IF HES SAYING HE WISHED IT WAS LEVI THAT DIED INSTEADDD

and levi is suprised that armin would ever, it hurts a little, and he just nods in agreement and says “me too.”

armin doesnt say anything back to it, he just turns and makes his way to his room, slamming the door behind him

and levi is exhausted. in his head he wonders how erwin had done it - balanced college and a job and a fucking teenager 

but then he remembers that erwin was erwin, and hed always been good at that type of thing

people stuck to him like glue

thats the first night he lets himself admit that he misses him

he feels like he’s failing at the one thing erwin asked of him

when eren shows back up, levi apologizes for not letting him know that armin had came back

but eren just tells him that armin had texted him when he’d arrived - i have a hc that eren and armin were each others first crushes but uhebdbsi

he tells levi that armin had said hed went to the beach

erwin used to take armin to the beach all the time before he died

he’d collect shells with him, and the ones that armin really liked, he’d give them names

he still has one called smith from the last time erwin had taken him to see the ocean

a few weeks go by after that

they never really talked before, but now it seems almost even worse

the silence that they normally exist in feels empty

but everything felt empty without erwin

eren lets levi know where theyre going to be whenever theyre not home, when theyll be home, etc

levi never asked for him to do that, but he does it anyways

levi’s thankful for the near suicidal maniac at that point

even though he always was

he saw a lot of himself in eren, and he sees a lot of himself in armin too

levi and armin never really apologize to each other, but one night when levi’s attempting to cook, armin walks in the kitchen and watches him place things on a pan

“you’re putting them too close together.”

armin steps beside him and tilts his head to the side, as if hes gesturing for levi to move

and he does, letting the younger and taller boy move the prerolled croissants further away from each other on the baking tray

“they never wouldve cooked all the way through like that,” armin tells him

with a scoff, levi mumbles that he sounds like erwin

armin pauses for a second, before sliding the pan in the oven. levi tells him how long the packaging said they went on so that he can set the oven timer

armin sets it for two minutes longer, and levi’s heart aches

erwin did that, too

“i miss him”

it slips out without him meaning for it to

and he thinks he’s ruined armin’s head again, when he’s supposed to be someone this kid can look up to

but he doesnt leave

armin just leans against the oven and nods “me, too”

after that, things arent bad anymore

sure, it takes awhile for them to completely warm up to each other, but they manage

enough that armin sits in on levi’s cooking sessions just to point out what hes doing wrong - something that helps, bc pretty soon levi is learning

he cooks him, armin, and eren an entire meal without burning anything

eren laughs when armin tells him that the man had forgotten to grab an oven mit and had stuck his entire hand in the oven to grab a pan

levi raises his eyebrow when he notices the way armin blushes at eren’s laugh, of all things

and they talk abt erwin more

they have more to say about him that eren, and its just something the two of them share, so they tend to save it for little moments, tiny snippets of things that remind them of the blond

after about a year, things are good

armin asks to have his 17th birthday at the beach, and who would levi be to say no

levi doesnt particularly like the beach, he detests sand, but its for armin, so he’ll do it

its for his kid

him and erwins kid

at the party, he finds a smile coming to his face when he sees armin actually laughing and having fun

kid had been through too much hell at 17, so he deserved to be happy, even if it was only for a few moments

on their way home that evening, eren and armin passed out from a day of swimming and running on the beach - levi made the both of them bring extra towels to save his car seats from salt water and sand

eren’s head is on armin’s shoulder, and the blond’s is resting atop eren’s head

when they get home, the two of them trudge towards their room, but armin turns and holds his closed fist out to levi

with a raised eyebrow, levi holds his hand out and lets armin drop something into his hand, before the boy pivots and continues his shuffle to his and eren’s shared room

levi glances down at the object in his hand

its a shell

armin names it erwin

[kimjoongs]

—ateez college au series [cs]

i imagine san to be a photography major

he has a very creative eye and looks at the world through a different kind of lens than everyone else

he’s been interested in photography ever since he middle school when he went to a photography exhibit on a field trip

san is a very expressive person and he wanted to somehow transfer his emotions into something tangible

and what better way to do that than through photography?

san has two cameras: film and digital

in high school, he didn’t have enough money to buy a professional camera so he just stuck to his phone camera

but when he got a job and collected enough money, he went and bought his first camera, the film one

you best bet san treasured it more than anything

he tried his best not to use it as much because there’s only a limited number of film and buying more was e x p e n s i v e

but when san graduated high school his parents gifted him with a digital camera too

wherever san goes, he’s always taking pictures, whether it’s on his phone or cameras

he usually uses his film camera for more personal things, like pictures of his family, friends, or places that are important to him, and he either hangs them up in his apartment or turn them in for assignments

and he uses his digital camera for editing purposes, like double exposure or halftones

his roommate, wooyoung, serves as his personal model from time to time

“hey wooyoung stand by that tree for a sec, i wanna get a picture” “omg wooyoung wait sit still, the lighting is so good here” “WOOYOUNG GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE IT’S GOLDEN HOUR”

wooyoung is annoyed bc of this sometimes, but as soon as he takes one look at his roommate eagerly bouncing on the tips of his toes, camera clutched in his hands, he can’t bring himself to be upset about it

also the one time san submitted a photo of wooyoung for an assignment he received a perfect score on it so—

one time wooyoung asked san if he ever modeled for his own photos, and san said he’d much rather be behind the camera than in front of it

except for the photos his parents made him take when he was a kid, san never really liked having his picture taken

he always felt more comfortable taking someone else’s

oh and also because san doesn’t let a n y o n e touch his cameras, not even wooyoung

there was a time where wooyoung offered to take san’s photo for him and he practically leaped away when wooyoung reached for his camera

everyone in the fine arts building knows who san is because he’s always running around taking pictures

their campus always has a bunch of stray cats wandering around, and if photography wasn’t san’s weakness, then it was cats

“omg wooyoung look there’s a cat i need to take a picture of it—” “san you’ve already taken twenty pictures of the same cat, let’s go before we’re late to class”

san is also such a friendly and gentle soul, so it wasn’t hard for him to charm all of his professors

one professor in particular became really fond of san because he reminds him of himself when he was younger

he became sort of a father figure to san and even offered to give san tips on how to take better photos

he also gave san permission to go into the darkroom after class hours or on the weekends should he need them

you can imagine how much san took advantage of that (in a good way ofc)

if san wasn’t running around taking pictures, then he was probably in the darkroom developing them

for a few months, san was pretty much the only person who used the darkroom after hours, so he never really bothered knocking on the door before entering

but the one time he didn’t, he almost ran into someone on the way in

at the sight of someone else in the darkroom, san let out the loudest shriek, jumping backwards and hitting the door

you flinched at san’s shriek and stumbled backwards, catching yourself by grabbing onto the edge of a table

for a minute, the two of you just stared at each other, still in shock

san snapped out of it first

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you. i thought no one else was in here, ahh so sorry i should’ve knocked”

your heart rate finally went down to normal, and you straightened yourself up, giving the sheepish boy in front of you a gentle smile

“no it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

san practically sighed in relief when he saw that you weren’t mad at him “well, now that we’ve officially scared the crap out of each other—” he stuck his hand out, flashing you a dimpled smile “i’m san, it’s nice to meet you”

your lips quirked up and you took his hand in yours, shaking it firmly “i’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you too”

and that was how san, a photography major, met you, also a photography major

apparently the two of you had managed to charm the same professor, and he gave the both of you access to the darkroom

you found out that san lived in the same apartment building as you, you being on the 3rd floor and him on the 2nd

the two you became fast friends due to your shared love photography

during visitation hours, you’ll either be in his apartment or he’ll be in yours

wooyoung, who isn’t a photography major, sometimes looks at the two you with the most confused expression because you guys will start firing off, using terminology that he doesn’t understand

sometimes if it gets too much, he’ll call yeosang and beg him to get him out of there

one time when you came over, you noticed the wall above san’s desk was practically covered in pictures

most of it was of people whom you assumed were san’s family, but you noticed wooyoung in a few of them, and then there were 6 other boys pictured too whom you weren’t quite familiar with

“hey san, are these friends of yours?” you asked

san looked up to where you were pointing, and his expression immediately softened

“yeah, that’s the gang. i use that wall to hang pictures of the people who are important to me”

your eyes widened, you weren’t expecting san to share that personal piece of info with you, but it made your heart warm nonetheless

“you’re such a sap san,” you teased, poking him in the arm

he rolled his eyes at you playfully, shoving your shoulder gently “shut up and get back to editing your photos”

for the next few months, your friendship with san grew tenfold

the two of you would often meet up after class just to hang out or grab some food

you both began to value the other’s opinion and would sometimes email or show each other photos you each took, asking what the other thought of it

you thought that having another person aside from a professor view your work, especially someone as passionate as san, made you improve

san always gave you his honest opinion, even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but you were grateful nonetheless

one day, san was given a project by one his professors to photograph the same person or object for a whole month

and usually san would go and ask wooyoung, but he decided to change it up this time

so one day when the two of you were having lunch, san turned to look at you, his face set in a serious expression

“y/n, i have a very, very important question to ask you”

you raised your eyebrow at him, not used to seeing san’s face so serious

“what is it?” you asked, sitting up straight

“so i have a major assignment for class where i need to take pictures of the same person or object for an entire month, and i was wondering...if you wouldn’t mind being that person?”

your eyes widened, and san took this as a bad sign because his face immediately went from being serious to panicked “of course i’m not going to force you if you don’t want to!” 

san looked up at you, patiently waiting for your response

it’s not that you didn’t want to, it’s just... “why me?” you asked

one corner of san’s lips quirked upwards, making his dimple appear

“why not?” he replied

“i’ve just...i’ve never really modeled for someone else’s pictures before,” you said sheepishly

san waved a hand at you “you don’t have to worry about that. trust me, i’ll make you look absolutely breathtaking” he flashed you a playful wink, and you rolled your eyes

“okay fine, i’ll do it”

and for the next two weeks, san has been snapping pictures of you left and right

most of the pictures he took were candid pictures, which you didn’t mind...until he took a picture of you eating your sandwich mid-bite

“san delete that right now!”

“nah y/n, i’m putting this in the blackmail folder”

“CHOI SAN”

tbh you thought being san’s model would feel awkward, but he actually made you feel super comfortable

he would always tell you that you were doing great, giving you a thumbs up after every picture that was taken

you enjoyed having san be your hype man, he made you feel really confident in yourself

during one of your sessions, san wanted to get a few posed pictures instead of candid, so he took you to one of the open fields on campus

it was the middle of autumn so the trees were a beautiful shade of bright oranges, maroons, and vivid yellows

san told you to stand underneath one of the trees

“okay so for this one, i want you to look away from the camera, and i’ll snap a couple photos, yeah?”

you nodded your head and proceeded to pose against the tree, eyes focusing on anything except the camera

meanwhile, san was moving back and forth and side to side, trying to capture multiple angles, some close up and some farther away

“alright y/n, for these next ones i want you to stare directly in the camera. you can choose whether to smile or not, okay?”

san readied himself, placing the viewfinder over his right eye

through it he could see you, still posing nearby the tree

however, san’s many years of experience with photography wasn’t enough to prepare him for what was to happen next

because as soon as your eyes made contact with the camera, there was a soft gust of wind, soft enough to carry a few fallen leaves and have them float around you

caught off guard by the sudden flurry of leaves, a quiet gasp left your lips, and then your eyes scrunched together as you let out the softest giggle

and then click

san’s finger froze on the shutter button, his mouth gaping slightly

he slowly lowered the camera from his face, eyes glazed over and mouth still open

you hadn’t noticed him take the picture, too focused on playing with the leaves flying around you

san tore his eyes away from you for just a moment, glancing down at his camera to check the picture he just took

what he saw made him choke on his breath

because there you were

he captured the picture at the exact moment you had burst into a bout of giggles, the multi-colored leaves were blurred near the edges, framing your face perfectly

the sun hit the surface of your skin perfectly, highlighting your features

your eyes were scrunched shut and your lips were quirked up, displaying the most perfect smile

for the first time in his, choi san was rendered...speechless

he had never seen something so...so...beautiful

“san?” your voice knocked him out of his stupor, and he whipped his head up to look at you, only to be rendered speechless again

you were staring at him with the softest of gazes, a gentle, serene smile on your lips

“how’d the picture look?” you asked curiously

san didn’t say anything, but his mind was racing with a billion thoughts

his lack of a response made you nervous, and you frowned “did...did it not turn out well? was it because i wasn’t looking? i’m sorry i can take it again if—”

“no!” san interrupted, standing up quickly

“no y/n, it was...it was perfect,” he breathed out

the look on his face and the tone of his voice were enough to make your cheeks flush a deep, deep red

you’ve never seen or heard san sound like that

it almost seemed like he was...he was...

“o-oh, do you mind if i see it then?” you asked, taking a small step towards him

san had allowed you to see the pictures, and you were amazed at how well they turned out

you turned to san and gave him a playful smile “wow, you were right. you did make me look ‘absolutely breathtaking’”

you were expecting san to scoff or say smth along the lines of “i told you so”

but he didn’t

instead he looked at you with the most sincere expression on his face, and he said “no, you did that on your own”

the sky was beginning to darken, so the two of you decided to head back to your apartments, bidding each other goodbye at the elevator

as soon as san reached his apartment, he practically shoved the door open and ran inside, scaring the shit out of poor wooyoung who was watching a movie in the living room

san didn’t even bother sending his roommate a greeting, opting to flee to his own room instead and slamming the door shut

he immediately whipped out his camera, took out the memory card, and inserted it into his laptop

the pictures he took of you earlier popped up on the screen, and san’s eyes immediately scanned for the one he wanted

once he found it, he enlarged the photo and, for the third time that day, choi san was rendered speechless

his chest began to hurt, and he reached up, clutching at the fabric of his sweater right above his heart

now...san had always had an inkling in his mind that he may have the tiniest crush on you

but he always waved it off, claiming that he just really liked you as a friend

but after what happened today, he can finally confirm it

choi san liked you

and they weren’t the trivial kind, the ones that lasted for only a moment and left soon after

no, these feelings burned with longing

but unlike most people, those who chose to deny their feelings and keep it to themselves, san was the complete opposite

he wasn’t the type to shy away from something, or in this case someone, who made him feel such strong emotions

he was going to do something about it...and he knew exactly how to do it

for the remaining weeks left in the month, san still took pictures of you for the assignment

but it was different this time

instead of his usual loud exclamations he used to hype you up, it was replaced with the fond smiles and eyes practically dripping with adoration

you didn’t know how to feel about this new development, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like it

it was nearing the end of the month, which meant that san’s project was reaching its end too

the two of you were having lunch together, just chatting about random things, when san suddenly pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket, handing it to you

“what’s this?” you asked, taking the slip of paper and reading it

“it’s an invitation. my class is putting on an exhibit to showcase the photos we’ve taken the past month, but it’s a private event so only people who were given invitations are allowed in.” san leaned forward, gazing at you with a soft twinkle in his eye

“will you go?” he asked

you nodded, smiling “of course, i’ve been waiting to see how the pictures turned out!”

san laughed at your enthusiasm, but he could feel the pounding of his heart going a mile a minute

a few days later was when the exhibition took place, and you arrived at the gallery, decked out in the fanciest clothes you could find

after the guard checked over your invitation, you walked inside and was surprised at the sheer number of people who were present

you looked around, searching for the familiar dimpled smile you’ve grown very fond of

“well, well, well look who finally showed up” 

your face broke out into a smile when you saw wooyoung walk up to, dressed in a fitted button up with black slacks

“damn woo, first time seeing you in something other than a hoodie and sweats,” you teased,

wooyoung rolled his eyes in response, but he held out his hand for you

“come on, sannie is waiting for you”

you happily placed your hand in his, eager to see san’s display, and wooyoung couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm

he led you around the exhibit, carefully maneuvering around the large clumps of people until he finally stopped at a door

wooyoung opened it and gently tugged on your arm, moving your body in front of his

you looked over your shoulder at him, confusion written all over your face “wooyoung what are you—”

but before you could finish your sentence, wooyoung shoved you the rest of the way in the room, flashing you a wink before closing the door, leaving you standing in the darkness

“wha—jung wooyoung!” you reached for the doorknob, about to yank the door open

when the lights in the room suddenly switched on

you gasped, stepping back from the door and whipping your body around

what you saw made you freeze

because displayed on the walls of the room were blown up pictures of you

some were candid, and some were posed

it took you a second, but then you realized: these were the pictures san took of your for his project

you carefully walked towards one of the pictures posted on the wall

you remembered when it was taken; it was when you and san went to a cat cafe near the school

you were sitting at one of the tables, playing with a cat that decided to jump up on your lap

san thought it would be the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of that moment, and so he did

as you walked around, the memories of the past month with san started coming back to you

once you reached the middle of the room, you noticed a picture that was significantly larger than the rest

you let out a soft gasp

it was the picture san took of you in front of the tree a few weeks ago

you could hardly believe that the person in the photo was you

“which one’s your favorite?”

jumping at the sound of an oh so familiar voice, you peered over your shoulder only to see san leaning against one of the walls

he was decked out in an outfit similar to wooyoung’s, with his hair slicked back

needless to say...he looked amazing

you breathed out a laugh, fully turning around to look at him “it’s hard to choose. i just look amazing in every single one”

san’s smirk softened into a smile, and he pushed himself off the wall, making his way towards you

“which one’s your favorite sannie?” you asked

san bit his lip, cocking his head to the side

“hmm...i’d have to say all of them”

you giggled “is that so? why do you say that?”

san glanced over at you, and you almost choked on your breath at the look on his face

it was the same look he always gave you from behind the camera: pure, pure, pure adoration

you’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute

san reached over, taking your hand in his and locking your fingers together

your eyes widened

san took a small step towards you, internally sighing with relief when you didn’t back away

you just stood there, waiting to see what he was about to do next

“they’re all my favorite because....” another step closer “...because you’re in them”

and that was the exact moment your heart stopped

san chuckled softly at your frozen state, and he brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the top of yours

you swore your legs were about to give up

“people are about to come in any second now to see my display, but if you’re willing to wait for me until after, then i have something really important to tell you,” san said

you were at a loss for words, your mind stuck trying to process everything that just happened in a span of two minutes

just as san let go of your hand, the door to the room opened and wooyoung’s head popped in

“hey san, are you ready? people are waiting”

flashing you one more smile, san swiftly turned on his heel and nodded, gesturing for wooyoung to let people in

as soon as the crowd started filtering into the room, you were broken out of your frozen state by wooyoung gently pulling you to the other side of the room

and for the rest of the night, you stood in the back corner with wooyoung, quietly watching san walk around and the room and chatting with the people as they observed his work

you admit you were kind of embarrassed at the amount of people who were just staring at your pictures posted on the wall

wooyoung would notice and he’d tease you about it

after a while, the exhibition finally came to an end

wooyoung had left a few minutes earlier, which left only you and san in the room

as san made his way over to you, you averted your eyes to the ground, suddenly feeling awkward

but then you saw san extend his hand out towards you

“let’s talk outside,” he said softly, quietly encouraging you when you were hesitant to take his hand

once the two of you were outside, san led you to a nearby bench

despite his confidence from earlier, you could tell san was nervous now, from the way he was biting his lip and fiddling with your hand, which he was still holding

you waited patiently for him to speak, choosing to ignore the way your heart was about to explode inside your chest

after a few moments, san took a deep breath and looked directly into your eyes

“y/n...you know how much our friendship means to me right? when you and i first became friends, i was so happy to have finally met someone who shares the same love and passion for photography as i do. i truly enjoyed every moment we hung out together, and i especially enjoyed having you as my model for my project...”

he squeezed your hand, and you squeezed his back, urging him to continue

“and during the entire month where we spent every single day together, it made me realize that...i wanted us to be something more than...more than just friends. so what i’m trying to say is, i really really like you y/n, and i was wondering if we could give ‘us’ a try?”

it was completely silent for a few moments, but as san gazed at you with the most hopeful look on his face, and you couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh

you honestly didn’t know what you were feeling, all you knew was that it was warm and comforting and that the only person who could make you feel that way was...san

“choi san, you are just as expressive with your words as you are with your photos,” you laughed, and you swore you’ve never seen him smile so big

“s-so does that mean...?” he trailed off

you smiled back at him, squeezing his hand once more “yes san, i am willing to give us a try”

now let’s just say, being in a relationship with choi san was so...refreshing

in the beginning of, you were kind of worried that things were going to change between the two of you

but when you saw san the next day, he greeted you with his usual sunshiney smile and that’s when you knew things were only going to get better from that point on

san is normally very touchy, but now that the two of you were dating, he became extra touchy

whenever the two of you are together, he’ll always have an arm around your shoulder or waist, or he’ll be holding your hand

he just feels more at ease if he’s holding onto some part of you

but of course he’d stop if you told him you were uncomfortable

also san would take a picture of you every chance he could get

the camera roll in his phone would just be pictures of you

he even made his own folder with just your pictures but would he ever tell you??? psshh no

one time wooyoung caught a glimpse of it and he snatched the phone out of san’s hand so quick, yelling that he was going to show you

when you came by their apartment that day, you walked in on the two of them in the middle of a wrestling match

wooyoung managed to toss the phone to you, and you caught it, checking to see what the two of them were fighting about

once you saw what it was, you blushed so hard and san groaned in defeat, rolling off of wooyoung and onto the floor

as you scrolled through the folder, you started to pout

“saaaan some of these are so ugly why do you still have them?”

your boyfriend whipped his head up so fast, and he had the most offended look on his face

“excuse me?? are you doubting my photography skills?”

you shoved the phone in his face “san this is literally a blurry picture of me mid-sneeze how could this possibly look good?”

but what he doesnt know is that you also have your own folder on your phone with just pictures of him in it

omg when the professor found out that the two of you were dating, the hugest grin broke out on his face and he was just oh so happy his two favorite students were together

when you and san are in the darkroom together, he’ll sometimes walk up behind you and just wrap his arms around you while you were developing your pictures

you’d always complain, claiming that he was distracting you, but tbh you secretly enjoyed it

you and san haven’t had your first kiss with each other yet, and that was because you were both too hesitant to be the one to make the move first

until one night

san had invited you to his apartment for a movie marathon since wooyoung was spending the night at yeosang’s

whilst san was getting the tv set up, you were sitting on the chair at his desk, mindlessly just looking around

you’ve been in san’s room countless times at this point, and pretty much everything looked the same since the last time you’ve been in there

but when you looked up at the wall above his desk, the same wall where san hung up a bunch of pictures of his friends and family, you noticed that there was an extra picture right in the center

your heart skipped a beat when you realized that it was the same picture san took months ago, the one where you were standing underneath the tree

you remembered what san had told you the first time you asked about the wall: “i use that wall to hang pictures of the people who are important to me”

san was too busy fidgeting with the tv to notice the look of pure joy on your face

“okay everything’s set up,” he turned towards you “y/n what movie do you wanna—mmph!”

san’s question was cut off by you throwing yourself into his arms and slamming your lips into yours

he staggered backwards, caught off guard

san was frozen for a few seconds, but then he relaxed and began to kiss you back

it was your first kiss with him and vice versa, and you could practically feel your heart getting ready to burst

when the two of you pulled away, san leaned his forehead against yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips

“not that i’m complaining, but what was that for?”

you smiled at him “i’m just happy that i’m worthy enough to be put on your wall”

san’s face dawned with realization and he let out a breathy chuckle, tugging you closer to him and wrapping you up in a hug

“you were always worthy enough, it just took me stupidly long to realize it”

oh yeah san loves that picture of you so much that he made it his lockscreen and wooyoung wouldn’t stop teasing him about it for weeks

ofc you made him your lockscreen too

now don’t get me wrong, san is the absolute best hype man you could ever ask for

but sometimes a hype man needs their own hype man

so on days where san isn’t feeling like his usual cheerful self, you step up

now you’re the one feeding him compliments and giving him the warmest hugs

and when that doesn’t work, one of san’s weaknesses is kisses so you’ll cup his face in your hands and just plant the tiniest kisses on his cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, and eyes

it usually gets him in a giddy mood and he’ll eventually start giggling halfway through

when you see him crack that first smile, you get all excited and he just stares at you with the fondest expression on his face

san also likes it when you play with his hair, so he’ll lay his head on your lap and that’s when you know to just weave your fingers through his dark strands, occasionally massaging his scalp

you laugh because san reminds you of a cat whenever he lays on you

speaking of cats, the two of you practically adopted all of the cats that wander around campus

the two of you are honestly just so domestic and soft, everyone at your university practically melts when they see the two of you walking around holding hands

overall just a wholesome wholesome relationship

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (2)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (in case u wanna come say hello on main but no pressure)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death, some mentions of sexual situations but nothing explicit, spoilers for season 2 (should probably have tagged ch1 for this too oops)

words: 6607, no regrets

summary: it’s not a date if it’s for work

Author’s note: There is so much research that went into this I would just like to say thank you internet for letting me look up stuff from the comfort of my own home at unholy hours even though I did get very distracted while looking up late 80s wedding dress fashion. Also bless the s2 dvd extra which was a director’s commentary on s2 ep10 and very informative.

—

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries @fromthedeskoftheraven @shikin83 

(message me if you want to be added to the list. or just message me in general)

and also I urge you to look at the beautiful moodboard that @huliabitch made for me! I love it so much!

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals

"All the best from Mr DEA." Diana said as she threw herself down in the seat across from her best friend. Gabriela looked effortlessly glamourous as usual, even though she was just in a blouse and jeans. She just had that air about her, like one of the vintage movie stars, something Diana had never quite been able to match. She was well aware she was downright frumpy in comparison, not one to catch eyes just by walking past. For the most part, that suited her. Gabi tried to seem nonchalant about the greeting.

"Oh?" She sipped gingerly from her drink and put her menu away. "You finally met, then? He's back?"

Diana nodded and stowed away her purse and cardigan. "Yeah, this afternoon and yesterday, in the morning. He seems... nice enough? I don't know. Not a talker, is he? He seems a bit on edge, to be honest. Though I suppose that's to be expected." But despite everything, he still has kindness in his eyes.

Gabi just grinned at her for a long moment, waiting to pounce.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a grump. ...Handsome though, no?"

Diana sighed, swatting at the other woman with her own menu. "Did it ever occur to you that the newly divorced woman might have had her fill of men for the time being?"

"It has occcurred to me that five years of unchanging, uninspired missionary for half an hour exactly, twice a week, with that wet blanket you married might have left you with the need to really be filled by a man for once."

"Gabriela!" she gasped, choking on thin air and mortification, even though their conversations would often get way more explicit than this. Just never with her being the subject. Gabriela just smiles like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, hailing a waiter to give him their order.

"Speaking of newly divorced: has the dipshit finally signed the papers then?" Diana groaned, throwing her glasses down onto the table to massage her temples.

"No, he's dragging his feet. Which is ridiculous, it's not like I want anything from him. It's not like we're fighting tooth and nail over every other thing, like that American movie, the one we watched on your mom's old VHS player, you know? With Meryl Streep? In any case, now he decides to fight? If you can call that fighting."

"Kramer vs Kramer." Gabi remarked sagely. "Yeah... At least you don't have children together. That could really have gone ugly. I still don't know what you ever saw in that man."

"Oh shut it. I used to be fond of Juan Mateo; I don't know when that changed." Diana huffed, quickly snatching up her glasses when the waiter sailed over with their drinks and appetizer.

"Well that's the problem, you never loved him! And your parents set too good an example; what could ever live up to that?" She took a generous drag from her drink, then dug into the food with hungry abandon. "At least you're finally rid of his snoring. And his mother."

"God, she really hated me. Couldn't bear it that her precious boy brought some lowly scum from the comunas into her pristine middle class home. Marrying me might have just been the only demonstration of free will that man has ever managed." Diana allowed herself to seethe a bit at the memory, taking it out on her food as she stabbed at it roughly. "And I will definitely not miss the snoring."

"Mr DEA barely snores." Gabriela remarked lightly. "Just ...very softly. It's quite cute."

"Since when do you let clients stay to actually sleep?" Diana inquired around a mouthful, brows scrunched. Gabriela hummed thoughtfully, swiping some sauce off her plate with a piece of bread.

"Ah, but he was so tired, poor thing. It wouldn't have been safe to send him back out, he would have crashed his car and died in a ditch somewhere, which would have been a real shame. I just let him nap for an hour or so that one time. Besides, I wasn't in any state to do much myself after he blew my back out." She had a way of being so nonchalant about these things that Diana supposed came from a sort of professional equanimity. Diana possessed no such poise and gawked openly, the wheels turning in her head as she recalled previous conversations and connected dots.

"Oh." She breathed as realization hit. "Oh! No! That was him? You're kidding me. How am supposed to look him in the eye now?" Gabi was already cackling, barely able to hold her laughter as Diana sputtered, recalling the very detailed recounting she'd received after the night in question. "You said you felt that for days after!"

"I did, but it was worth it." Gabi was now subtly holding her sides, having pushed her empty plate away to be collected. "You see, you're my dearest and oldest friend and I only want the best for you."

"I'm sure Mr DEA would be delighted to know of your crude attempts to pimp him out." Diana snarked, pushing her own plate to the side just in time to be whisked away by the waiter. "You're incorrigible. This is serious. Besides, I think he really liked you, actually."

"He liked the illusion of intimacy, like most of my clients. Lonely but with committment issues to the moon and back. It's not like I'm telling you to marry him. I'm just trying to get you properly laid for once." Gabriela scoffed. She could be so detached sometimes. In fact, one could call it downright cynical. But Diana had known her since they were both in pigtails and could detect the care behind even the most jaded words.

"Oh whatever. I request a change of topic. How's your book coming along? Any progress on that chapter that's been giving you so much trouble?" Diana asked sweetly, making the other woman glare at her over the plates with their main courses as they were being set down. Because yes, Gabriela does indeed write more than letters, and she's good, too. Also, two can play this game of being just slightly mean.

--- --- ---

Javier hated team meetings. And now that he was the boss here he couldn't even get out of them. Worse, he had to lead them. He looked over the assembled agents, glad that he had most of their names down by now. Gladder still that this was a DEA-only event and he wouldn't have to deal with any of Stechner's CIA asswads for now.

"Duffy, where are we on the shipments?" He turned to the other man expectantly. Duffy was one of the few agents here that weren't younger than him; he actually had some experience under his belt, unlike all these fucking greenhorns the higher-ups had sent him. He forced himself to pay attention to Agent Duffy's answer, making notes of important dates as he listened. Operation Cornerstone had, at this point, not yet come to full fruition, but if they continued to put in their due dilligence it was almost certain to turn up something useful. When they'd gone through all the points on his agenda, and after clearing up a few uncertainties, he dismissed the roomful of agents.

"Duffy, got another moment?" Javier stopped the other agent as he turned to leave the conference room.

"Sir?" Duffy sat back down and pulled his writing pad back out.

"Have you come up with any ideas for my informant in Calí?" Javier had mentioned this before, seeing as Duffy was one of the agents permanently stationed at the Calí field office. Now that Escobar was gone it would look suspicious if the head of the DEA in the country trekked up to Medellín every other week, and they needed a better way for Miss Rivas to hand over her collected intel. Duffy cleared his throat and caught the eye of one of his colleagues and waved him over.

"Lopez here has had a few ideas, sir. Tony, tell the boss your ideas for drop-offs."

The other agent was younger, handsome in that pretty way that made girls sigh dreamily, going by his own, admittedly remote, memory of high school and college. Lopez hadn't said much during the meeting, but had that eager glint in his eyes that said he wanted to prove himself. Javier had had that same look when he first came down here; it hadn't survived the first year.

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, so I was thinking the public library might be worth a shot." Agent Lopez pulled a notepad from his own case, squinting down at the scrawled chickenscratch. Javier nodded along, encouraging more than praise. He'd have to run these ideas by Miss Rivas anyway, and if she had concerns they were back at square one. But that was a river he intended to cross when the time came and not a second earlier.

--- --- ---

The satphone was also a good instinct because after their preliminary meetings in April, it gets irritatingly difficult to arrange another one for over a month.

"The what now?"

"The 4th International Poetry Festival. It's on from June 2nd to 8th." she explained patiently. "Orietta Lozano, Gloria Gervitz, Blanca Varela!"

"I assume those are poets."

"Obviously."

"You want me to go to a poetry festival with you?"

"No, I'm taking the week off and I'm going to the festival, and I am also free to meet you. I'm just suggesting that maybe your work hours don't all have to be spent in dreariness and drudgery." Something sizzled on the other end of the line where she was making herself dinner while talking to him, and it made Javier's stomach grumble. "A bit of culture is good for the soul, Agent Peña. You'll burn yourself out with how much you work. When was the last time you ever did anything for fun? Read a book? Hell, listened to music?"

Whenever you call me. She always had music on at home. It drifted through the receiver, a soothing background hum that was too soft to truly make out most times. Add to that the fact that he was still sitting in his office at almost half past seven in the evening, and he didn't have a proper counter-argument.

"Alright, fine. 2nd to 8th, I'll see what I can do."

--- --- ---

She was wearing another belted shirt dress, this one pale yellow and sleeveless, the full skirt reaching to just below the knees. It reminded Javier of the style his mother used to wear when he was little. Saturday, June 4th, had him meet up with Miss Rivas at the Teatro Metropolitano in central Medellín. Her dress contrasted against the blocky red building in a way that tugged familiar, but Javier was trying to train himself to not see blood in every instance of red.

"This is quite a way from Envigado." He announced his approach as soon as he was close enough to not have to shout. She jumped a bit, clearly startled, but her lips pulled into a polite smile when she recognized him.

"Agent Peña." She greeted. "No, cultural grandeur doesn't usually make it out to the comunas." She sat back down on the bench and pulled a flyer from her (rather big) purse, thumbing it pensively. Javier sat beside her, not quite at arms' length. Trying to appear wordlessly inviting, if only to mask how at a loss for words she made him feel. He seemed to be no longer used to normal, civil human interaction.

"Right, there is one reading here at the Metropol that starts in about half an hour that I think you might like. It has a few of the international poets; a few of them will be reading in English. Then there's another one later at the Teatro Carlos Vieco that I'm keen on. It's about half an hour on foot between locations, but there's the open air exhibits that only require a small detour." She pointed it all out on the program as she spoke, Javier silently nodding along in acknowledgement. "I've planned it so there's more than enough time for a lunch break. I hate having to rush through things that are meant to be enjoyed. I brought arepas, but there are usually enough street vendors out and about to get something else, if you prefer." She really did talk a lot. That was surprisingly fine by Javier, since it meant he didn't have to. "Though of course if you'd rather just get your intel and go I understand, but I must insist on at least this first reading, Agent Peña. But otherwise I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure you have other things to do."

His lips twitched involuntarily and he held his hand out for the program flyer, silently reading it over. None of the names rung any kind of bell. Not that he was much of a poetry aficionado. "Sounds good to me."

She blinked. "Which part?"

He handed her back the flyer, which she took automatically, still eyeing him with uncertainty.

"All of it." She blinked again, looking mildly shocked, the flyer still dangling uselessly from her fingers. "Miss Rivas, I came all the way here and you went through all this trouble planning. It would be a waste to part ways after so short a time."

Truth be told it sounded ...nice. The thought of spending a day just exploring, letting work be work for even just a day (or at least part of it). Despite being an only child, he'd never liked being on his own even when he was young, cherishing every day spent with school friends or any of his numerous cousins. And it wasn't like he'd had to do far less pleasant things for information.

Her expression morphed from uncertain gaping into a wide, pleased smile that he couldn't help but mirror. Maybe she was quite a nice lady after all.

---

"...I have to ask though: What's a ...smit- ...smee-dereen?"

"Smithereens." Javier corrected gently as they exited the venue after the reading. "It means... it's all the small pieces that are left over when something is destroyed. Like with a bomb."

"Hmm," she hummed, pensive as they strolled along with the leisurely flow of the crowd, "I'll have to think a bit more about this." She fished around in her purse, producing bottled water and offering him one. He took it gratefully, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. "How did you like it, Agent Peña? Already regretting agreeing to this?"

"No." Javier found himself replying perhaps a smidgeon too quickly. "No, it's very uh... enriching." And not what he'd expected at all. Though the festival was now in its fourth year running, he'd never had the chance or the wish, really, to attend it before. He'd barely taken note of its existence, too preoccupied with chasing down leads.

"Hm, you don't have to mollify me, Agent Peña. You'll still get your intel, don't worry." Her expression slipped, from an almost serene smile back into that underlying heaviness that he could identify only now that it had been lifted for a short while.

"Miss Rivas," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm just not that good with words. That's why I'm a government agent and not a poet."

That at least made her chuckle a bit. And it was true, too. He felt lighter, in a way, like his mind had been craving a break from the frustrating work of trying to find an in to take down the cartel. Even his shoulders felt less tense here. And it was a beautiful day, too. Warm but not too hot, sunny with a mild breeze. People were out and about around them, festival goers and other citizens alike, mingling freely with a carelessness that would have been unthinkable only a year prior.

"Juan Mateo never wanted to come with me to this." She gestured vaguely at the city and its people around them. "My husband. Ex-husband. Technically still husband because he won't sign the divorce papers." Her features turned tense as she explained, a slight frown appearing between her brows. "Not that it matters now, of course. But goodness, that man had no sense for these things. He thought top shelf coffee was the height of culture. He'd act like going out to a bar one evening every few weeks was a chore beyond compare. Such a martyr!" She huffed and Javier laughed softly, offering to take her bag for a while as she adjusted it on her shoulder for the third time now.

"No, that's alright. It's not heavy. This way." Her hand naturally slipped into the crook of his elbow to steer him down the side of the road and Javier faltered for a moment, cursing himself for wearing a short-sleeved shirt even though it was comfortably warm. He just didn't want to get separated in the bustle of activity, he reasoned. This was a perfectly tame and non-offensive gesture and it would be rude to flinch away, he reasoned. She initiated it, after all. No harm no foul. This was still a professional alliance.

"You think very loudly, Agent Peña." She remarked, lightly squeezing his elbow. "It better not be about work."

"Technically I am at work right now." He countered, covering her hand on his arm with his much larger one and giving it an awkward pat.

"Lucky you." She teased, lightly nudging his side with her elbow.

"Beats paperwork, that's for sure."

They ambled along, weaving through the crowds where they gathered in front of street performers and makeshift stages. Javier couldn't deny that it felt good to feel the sun on his skin, un-recycled air in his lungs; most of all being far away from Stechner and his legion of CIA goons was almost rejuvenating. They fell into a languid rhythm, walking leisurely and stopping every so often to linger a bit where music was being played or more poetry recited, in front of the stalls of local artisans or to look at the sculptures that had been put up as an open air exhibit throughout the city. Every so often, Miss Rivas would tell him some little anecdote, be it about any of the previous festivals or just the city itself. He barely felt the time pass.

By the time they'd made it across the river and to the park wherein the open-air theatre was situated, it was time for a late lunch and Javier felt his stomach start to protest, all that walking serving to work up an appetite.

"...and after school Gabi and I would trek across town to the library and hide by the shelves in the back, the ones with the old classics, and we'd read all the scandalous 19th-century novels about adulteresses and other fallen women. You know, Anna Karenina, Thérèse Raquin, Madame Bovary, Tess of the d'Urbervilles..." Miss Rivas set her bag down and produced a fairly big plastic container from within, setting it on the bench between them. "Perhaps not the most appropriate fare for a couple of fifteen-year-old girls, but it wasn't like we had a whole lot of supervision, you know? It definitely wasn't appropriate to read to a five-year-old, so I guess it's good that Maritza never really paid attention much- Stop my prattling any time, Agent Peña. I know I talk too much; Juan Mateo always used to say so."

Javier paused, an abundantly filled arepa inches from his mouth. "He what now?"

She flushed, looking down and picking at the wrapping paper she'd bundled the food up in. "It's fine, it's not a big deal, really."

"It's not fine." Javier insisted. Told her to shut up, told his own wife that she talked to much! What an ass. He started tearing into the arepa with a glower. They sat in silence for a while, chewing tensely in this little corner of the park at the foot of Cerro Nutibara, in a spot that was fairly hidden among the greenery while still affording a decent view of the city streets below. Javier didn't even know why it irked him so much. There were worse things out there than insensitive husbands. Ex-husbands at that. Still, he seethed quietly in his righteous wrath.

"Wanna see something funny?" She was already digging through her purse, so he didn't see much sense in replying. She pulled a photo from some deep compartment in her wallet, looking down at it thoughtfully for a moment before passing it to him. In his defence, Javier hadn't meant to laugh. It just came out, snorty and half-aborted.

"Hey, at least I managed to evade the poofy sleeves, okay? My mother was dead set on them. She wanted me to look like the English lady… uh, Princess Diana. I think she might have taken the name as a sign."

"That's a.. that's a lot of satin."  And tulle. Javier pressed out, still suppressing his laughter and barely succeeding. He could have pointed out that the mass of ruffles negated any absence of actual puff sleeves, but thought it better to refrain. And it wasn't like she hadn't looked beautiful as a bride, it was more that in that ruffled satin-and-tulle concoction she looked like an unwilling dress-up doll, despite the tasteful off-the-shoulder cut and flattering waistline. It was just... there were a lot of ruffles. There was a lot of dress, period. Paired with an expression that was better suited to a funeral, the effect was almost morbidly comedic.

"Wait till I show you the cake; we were basically identical." It was the dryness of her tone that set him off. There was no suppressing it now, Javier was bellowing, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It didn't help that the dress fashion hadn't really strayed very far from the 'bigger and more style' in the years since. All things considered, this was a comparatively simple gown, lacking the mass of sparkly appliqués and abundance of bows and flowers that had been popular in the latter years of the previous decade. It just wasn't a style that suited her personality in any way, at all. Her slender figure was absolutely drowned in the sheer volume of the skirt alone. Hell, it completely overshadowed the already forgettable man standing by her side in the photo. Though 'by her side' was a generous descriptor. There was definitely enough space for the Holy Spirit and then some between the couple.

"My mother spent ages on that damn dress. Her hands looked like pincushions by the time she was done; that's why she wore gloves to the wedding."

"She's a seamstress, right? Your mother?" She'd mentioned it in an offhand comment during one of their previous phone calls.

"She was." Diana confirmed, tucking the picture away again. "Didn't think you'd remember that."

"Of course. I listen to everything you tell me."

Diana chuckled, flushing lightly. "It's not even relevant to the case!"

"I listen to everything you tell me." Javier insisted and started gathering up wrapping paper and such to throw away. A quick look at his watch told him they'd have to get moving soon if they wanted to make it to the theatre on time to get decent seats.

"Right." Diana collected her things to stuff them back into her bag. "So it's a no for ruffles, but what would you have me wear, Agent Peña? What do you think suits me?"

Javier couldn't have told even the most skilled interrogation expert what exactly compelled him to answer, and so readily at that, why he had an opinion at the ready in the first place, or at least that's what he preferred to tell himself.

"I think... something soft and flowy, not a whole lot of embellishments, if any. Clear lines and a light fabric, something you can dance in and be comfortable. Definitely no more satin."

She laughed now, as well, eyes twinkling with what he thought was approval. "You are full of surprises. Should I ever get married again, I'll most certainly engage your services as designer, Agent Peña."

"I'll keep a spot open for you. First consultation is free."

---

How her hand can feel so natural there in the crook of his elbow after hardly a day, he cannot tell. All he knows is that by the time the reading at the open air theatre is done the sun has started to dip in the sky and if this was what his work was like more often he'd perhaps be happier in his workaholic ways. Though they haven't broached the topic of work in hours now, instead ambling half-aimlessly northward towards Conquistadores where he's parked his rental car at the hotel he's staying at. Because it is a long way to Envigado and he insisted on driving her home. Because even though now that Escobar is gone Medellín is much safer, but he's never been one to easily trust a good thing.

It's only when they've crossed the big main street Avenida 33 that Miss Rivas gets quieter. She's obviously  tired following their prolonged outing, but he instantly misses the pleasant hum of her voice, her clever little observations- At the same time, it's a comfortable silence, not one weighed down by expectation. She'd even let down her hair from where it had been up in a ponytail for most of the day, most likely to keep the thick curtain of it away from her neck in the heat and sun.

They're just crossing a smaller square, the edge of it lined with shops, the hole-in-the-wall kind mostly, when she suddenly pulls away with a soft instruction to wait there for just a moment, and he's left to look after her flapping skirt with what is probably not the most dignified expression. Defeated, he sat down on the broad edge of a flowerbed nearby and watched her cross to a food vendor, order, and fish around for her wallet to pay, before turning around again with a plastic cup in each hand. Fresas con crema, he can make out upon her approach, and one corner of his mouth ticks up involuntarily.

"Hungry again?" He teased when she got within earshot, handing him one cup and setting the other down beside him along with her purse.

"There's always space for this in my stomach." She retorted primly. "If you don't want any, all the better."

"Thank you for the generous offer, but no. Thanks for this." He makes a show of cupping the treat protectively, fully knowing he'll have to set it down to unwrap the plastic spoon that came with it. It makes her laugh nonetheless, which imbues him with a strange, fluttery sense of accomplishment.

She's still standing, head thrown back and grinning wide, when her gaze catches on something at the far end of the plaza, and her expression morphs from glee to astonishment to rage so quickly it gives Javier whiplash.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me!" Ripping off her glasses and thrusting them into his hands, she began stalking off.

Two things are fortuitous: one, she had to pass Javier to get to whatever she saw and two, his reflexes are still sharp enough for him to jump up and into her path, even having managed to safely deposit the cup of strawberries and cream.

"Whoa, what the hell is it?"

"I- ...she-" Her voice is strained, her whole body taut like a livewire as she attempts to round him and resume her warpath. On instinct, Javier took a few steps backwards, keeping himself between her and her target. It's only his hands on her shoulders that stall her enough for him to be able to whip his head around and follow her eyeline. That side of the square is empty save for an older lady shuffling along, huffing and puffing and blissfully unaware of the wrathful freight train about to rush her. To say Javier was puzzled would be an understatement.

"What, her? The old woman?"

"That's Hermilda Escobar!" She's shaking so much he has trouble keeping a grip on her. "Look at her! The nerve of that woman to show her face here-" She winds out from under his hands, rounding him with a quick sidestep, and he can only match her speed because his legs are longer.

"Hey!" Javier whisper-shouts to be met with flashing eyes, then repeats it more softly. "Hey. What exactly are you planning to do here, huh?"

"I'm gonna give that self-righteous bitch a piece of my mind is what I'm gonna do!" She retorted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It's cowing, the single-minded purpose rolling off of her. She's strumming with it, her seething damn near tangible. In her rage, she is ruthless. Javier had no doubt, in that moment, that once let go she might well maul the woman with more than words.

It's instinctive, the way his arm wraps around her. Like the few times he's had to restrain Steve and yet not like that at all. For one Javier doesn't have to go for a near chokehold, though energy-wise her wrath is at least as fierce. So, he wraps one long arm around her waist, hauling her much slighter body against his with a half-turn, her forearms colliding sharply with his chest.

"Easy." He rumbles, his other arm coming up to fold across her shoulders. "Easy. Calm down. Calm down!"

Palms smack against his pectorals and it stings. "Hey!" He tightens his hold around her trembling body, her angry, anguished squirming. Softens his voice. "Hey. Calm down, okay? What're you gonna do, beat up that old woman in the street? Come on, breathe."

The sound that comes out of her is something very closely related to a snarl, and he feels the bite of her nails even through his shirt, but holds fast, continuing to ramble empty phrases with the intent to soothe, or at least distract.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I will get violent." She promised, hands pushing into his chest in an effort to break his hold. The old woman has almost passed by completely by now, seeming blissfully unaware of the savaging she's escaping. Javier held fast, as tight as he dared, the hand still pinching the pair of glasses between two fingers awkwardly patting at her shoulder while he sways them both, rocking from foot to foot.

By the time Diana has calmed down enough that he feels comfortable loosening his hold, the old woman is long gone from view. He feels her slump in his grip, reflexively tightening his arms again to hold her up.

"Hey," he gentles, lightly nudging the side of her head and thinking, distantly, that all but burying his nose into her soft hair is far too intimate a position for any of this. "Hey, it's alright, I've got you, okay? I've got you."

They're still swaying on the spot, a gentle see-saw motion, and then he felt the hands that had been clenching and unclenching on his chest lose all tension and drop down to the side. She's still shaking, her whole ribcage jumping with the hiccup of suppressed sobs. Somehow, he maneuvers them both around and back the few steps from where their snack and her purse still wait beside the flowerbed.

"Why'd you hand me these, anyway?" It's but a cheap distraction tactic, Javier handed her the glasses back as soon as she sat nevertheless.

"I'm not blind without them." Diana responded tersely, snatching the glasses and cleaning the lenses with the hem of her dress. When she doesn't deign to elaborate, he sighs and stretches from where he'd sat back on his haunches in front of her, resuming his earlier seat and finally unwrapping the spoon. It's a tense silence for a long moment, her aggravation like a pulse around them. Certainly it gives Javier a good bit to think on.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Don't condescend to me. You may have been closer to the action, but I've lived here all my life." She ripped open her own packet with a vengeance, digging the spoon into her own portion with such force that the sliced strawberries bleed into the white cream. Javier sighed. Took a moment to order his words before they leave his tongue.

"I just need to know if this," he gestured between her and the edge of the square, "is going to be something that has to be taken into account. I need to know that you're not just in this for revenge. I need to know where you're at mentally. I need to be sure, both for your own safety and the integrity of this operation, that you're not just going to snap one day and try to claw Miguel Rodríguez' eyes out, okay?"

She chews angrily a moment, eyes flashing at him before she stares straight ahead again. The wrath is still rolling off of her in waves, perhaps dipping a bit in its intensity, but far from dulling just yet.

"You want to know my motivations, is that it? Well, let me lay it out for you, Agent Peña: of my entire class, a third never even made it to graduation, for one reason or another. I spent my youth plotting routes around gunfights in the street, with just enough success to still be alive, somehow. My mother was caught in the crossfire of a raid and was afraid to leave the house for years afterwards. My father was on that Avianca flight. My baby cousin Maritza is dead and her baby will grow up without her mother. And throughout it all, I took the coward's way out, moved cities, for university, for work, for marriage, for myself even, and everywhere I went they were, too. The narcos have spun their spider's web across the whole damn country and beyond and sooner or later everyone gets stuck in it. I got stuck in it despite my best efforts, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of having to flee and turning up in dead ends. Somehow I have landed in this unique position, and I refuse to join them. Is that enough motivation for you, Agent Peña?"

She held his gaze, a challenge in fire, and he wondered how much longer that adrenaline surge would sustain her before she crashed. Wordlessly, he nodded his affirmation.

It's more tense silence after that, thick like stew or the humidity out in the jungle. She doesn't reach for him again as they resume the walk up to his hotel, doesn't casually link their arms like before, choosing instead to fidget with the handles of her bag. He hates it, misses the lightness the day had before. These narcos, they really do poison even the most mundane of things with their long, bloodied shadows. When they get to the hotel's underground garage, she's gone even more quiet, almost deflated. There are no more words exchanged, save for the clipped directions to her aunt's house. At one point, Javier was almost certain she'd dozed off.

---

"Do you ever think you should have been there? When they finally got him?" He'd just parked the car opposite of the house. It's almost completely dark outside by now.

"...Yes." Of course he did. He'd wanted, even needed to. The temporary suspension had not been near as effective a punishment as denying him that. The fruits of his labor, of years spent chasing after shadows and getting himself mired deeper and deeper, until he barely recognized himself when he looked in the mirror. He'd wanted it, sure, but perhaps he hadn't deserved it.

"Why did they send you home?" It's not that Javier is in a particularly obstinate mood, it's just that after the incident earlier, he's reluctant to bring up his own involvement with the cartels of Calí and Medellín, much less Los Pepes, so he gives a non-committal grunt in response. He should have known that wouldn't deter her. "When I first called, Agent Murphy said you had been recalled to the States. I only found out later that that was before they finally got Escobar. Why would a top agent on a case of this magnitude be pulled off and sent back before that?"

"You mean what did I do?" She nodded. There was no getting out of it now. He didn't want to lie to her either. Javier sighed, scratching his thumbnail across his brow. "You're going to look at me differently."

"Perhaps, yes." She took a deep breath, rummaging through her purse and producing a folded up paper. "These are the names of some American banks that I'm very certain help funnel and launder Calí's money. Sorry it's nothing more specific." She placed the paper in his hand, gently closing his fingers over it. "Whatever you tell me, we're in this together, right? We both want to bring them down. I trust you, alright?"

Javier gulped, his fingers tingling under her touch. He pockets the paper to buy time, if only to swallow through his suddenly-too-dry throat. And then he tells her. The dead ends and the crippling bureaucracy, Don Berna, the Castaño brothers and Judy Moncada and Pacho Herrera. His desperate grasping at straws to find a way, any way to throw a wrench in the escalating violence and catch Escobar, how that backfired so spectacurlarly. How he tried to get out, despite knowing that these people do not allow outs. How he'd been played by the fucking CIA because he'd been an idiot falsely believing that the two agencies were operating under even remotely the same objectives. How he'd gone down, almost taking his partner with him, definitely tanking his boss' career. He hasn't spoken to anybody about this in such depth, not even his father. By the end of it, he's exhausted.

"So you're the one Carlos Castaño wanted to feed to the crocodiles."

"What?" He'd expected judgement, even disgust. Certainly not this.

"I overheard Gilberto mentioning it on the phone. I think he must have just learned that you'd be the DEA's man in charge. 'Maybe I should have let you feed that damn DEA agent to the crocodiles after all, Carlos.'  The door wasn't all the way closed, that's how I heard it. I think that was the moment I realized I couldn't wind my way out of this. That either they were going down, or they were going to find out that I was already talking to Agent Murphy and have me... vanished."

"I won't let that happen." Javier promised instinctively, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Crocodiles though? Really?" Not how he thought he'd end, that was for certain.

"Yeah, they're very uh... charming, huh?"

Javier grimaced. "If I never see any of them again, it'll be too soon."

"Knock on wood." Diana replied and unbuckled herself, pushing open the door.

"I'll walk you. It's dark."

"It's only across the street." She protested, and was that the ghost of a smile on her lips? Javier's hands stilled on his own seatbelt.

"You sure?"

"If my aunt catches me coming home with a man I'll never hear the end of it." Diana slipped out of the car, then bent to grab her purse. "Good night, Agent Peña. Until next time."

"Good night, Miss Rivas."

He waited until she was inside, the door securely locked behind her, before starting the drive back.

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

Chapter 3

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

Author’s note cont’d: if you wanna know what I had in mind, approximately, for the wedding gown see here

The International Poetry Festival of Medellín is a real thing, too. They have a youtube channel

[occasionallyish--archive]

Some random BNHA boys headcanons!

(Featuring K.Bakugou, H.Shinsou, H.Sero, and E.Kirishima!)

*I've seen all of the anime, so far, but am not very far in the manga. If some are canonically disproved, then I'll figure that out on my own time–

I do mention things I think up to the point of the school festival(I think that's around where the anime goes to, at current), though. If you haven't caught up to that point, you may not want to read this post.

Also! I love to interact. If you have anything to pitch in or would like to request specific headcanons or, hecc, I also love analyzing/pairing relationships, hmu!

TW, cheating and divorce! And self-loathe! Lengthiness under the cut!

Katsuki Bakugou

His dorm room is sort of a mix between Izuku's(not like he'll ever admit it), Eijirou's, and Kyouka's. The color scheme is prolly really based around his hero costume, with lots of blacks and oranges and maybe even a hint of green. Knowing his pride, even his sheets are prolly custom-made to match his aesthetic. Kat's got a punching bag and maybe other training equipment and, after the school festival, he ended up giving into his new hobby and got his hands on a drum kit. He's also got a couple of All Might merch, ofc– A poster, maybe a collectible here and there.

Katsuki isn't necessarily aromantic, because he does crush and knows a relationship-worthy person when he sees one. But, he strictly identifies as such because he feels it'd be selfish as a pro hero to have a lover than can be targeted. Plus, well, he has no interest in distractions, as tempting as it may be.

He's kinda like a tsundere when it comes to his parents' clothes lines, lmao. They love sending him stuff to wear and he honestly does feel pretty stylin' when he wears such, but he always protests and is all "Nada nada nada, I'm not some goddamn walking ad"

Kat's the only person in class 1-A who's completely fluent in English. Momo and Shouto are the only two that can really compete.

Hitoshi Shinsou

Shin's room is actually very cozy, warm, comfortable. He keeps a lot of cooler colors like grays, blues, and purples, with plain sheets. He also kinda sorta takes pride in the white fairy lights that decorate the walls– That lighting is kind of dim, but rediates calm vibes. He also has a sort of nest of plush pillows on his bed, that he can just sorta fall into at the end of a long day! It's surprisingly neat(other than his bed), as while he is too lazy to clean, Hitoshi's also too lazy to make a mess.

Over his time in UA, Hitoshi also develops his own sorta unlikely friend group! This includes Izuku Midoriya(Sports Featival, self-explanatory), Denki Kaminari(EraserMic parallels, plus I think a certain mangacap), Neito Monoma(It all started with a fist fight...), Momo Yaoyorozu(Responsible woman), and Mei Hatsume(They met during the Sports Festival). I like to think that Monoma and Shinsou are exes. It's a tolerate-hate relationship.

Similarly to Katsuki, Hitoshi sort of identified as ace-aro before having gotten with Neito. He doesn't really know what he identifies as, now, but he does crush every now and then.

Shin's got three pet cats! There's Bonji, a ginger tom of a housecat. He's a really prideful spoiled jerk that Hitoshi can't help but love, despite his ego. Bonji also probably ends up fathering Monster's kittens– She's a very very fluffy, chubby grey-and-white Manx. She's real snuggly and calm, and quiet. More of an observer than anything. Then there's Bear, this time a really whiny brown-and-white Manx that tends to get herself in trouble.

Also, if he's not a hero, then he's definitely a therapist. Or an author. Or both, most of the time. His office is called "Hear Meowt" and he's known for bringing cats in, from the local shelter.

Guns scare him. He thinks it's kind of a silly fear(especially for a pro hero) and would prolly get teased if it ever gets out, but– He could never bring himself to even shoot one. Gets all nervous if somebody in the room possesses one. The only class he puts 100% effort into, is Snipe's.

Also, Hito just– Never learned how to swim, cnejcmf. He's not scared of it or anything, and he's okay with hanging around a pool, but he can't swim and won't admit it.

Hanta Sero

Growing up he had a really bad habit of chewing his elbows(He also happens to be a flexible king) and ended up having to get braces(blush surgery because he messed up his goddamn elbOWs). That's why he has such straight teeth. He doesn't really like admitting it so he tries to be subtle but early on in the year he chewed on his retainer, too, and I bet there was one day where everybody just heard SNAP! from inside his mouth. Smile thru the pain, bby.

Also, yes, Hanta is a stoner– But! Being a hero-in-training, he's prolly ths most responsible stoner you've ever met. He'll never smoke on days that he has class or that he plans to train, and God forbid sharing his weed with others(unless, y'know, there's a responsible sober person around).

As such, he's not allowed to attend Bakugou's birthday. Doesn't stop anybody(other than Katsuki) from dragging him in, anyway, tho.

Eijirou Kirishima (But mostly his family)

His youngest sisters are the product of, ah, a cheating mother. So yeah, both parents are now divorced though the kids are in said mother's custody, because unfairness. Thing is, with a single mother that works, the situation gets especially bad after Ei moves into the dorms.

His older sister, the oldest of the kids, is Etsuko. She's 22 and left to America for college, as soon as she got the chance. She hates mom but is chill with all of her siblings, talking with them and dad whenever she gets the chance. Otherwise, her current girlfriend is a pro hero!

Then, after Eijirou, is Akari. He's 13-14 and filled with angst and anger and bitterness, not really going out of his way to show his hate toward the twins but definitely doing so if prompted. Their mom's sort of in the same boat, except for the fact that he just avoids her entirely. Akari takes after his dad, a lot, and sees him as a role model. Visits him whenever he gets the chance.

And then, there's Aiko and Aika(both twins, 8). Ko is really quiet, reserved, smart– She's the only of the two aware of why they don't have a father figure. As such, she has an internal self-loathe and does sometimes get angry and lash out, as a product. Ka's pretty much the opposite. She's real naive and fun and loud, the kind to play sports and gossip about boys and playfully tease her siblings. She doesn't really know much or care about the situation, but she does wish Akira would be nicer :(

As for Eijirou? Well, he's in a real tough situation. He loves both his mom and dad to pieces and could never exactly take a side, even if a small part of him resents mom for what she'd done to the family. After the divorce and especially after Etsuko left, he became sort of the man of the house, taking responsibility for all of his younger siblings. He caters to both his mother and father and though there is a lot of tense energy between the three, Ei gets by. After the dorms are implemented, he takes every chance that he possibly could to slip by.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Coming In 2020

Hey guys. I hope you guys enjoyed ringing in the new year. I hope the first couple of days have been going well for you. I am super excited for the coming year. 

I thought it would be nice to put together a “coming up” post where I give you guys a sneak peek at what I hope is coming in 2020.😄

I have gone back and forth with wanting to share summaries like this, but I guess I am taking a leap with humans in 2020 and crossing my fingers for good outcomes. LOL. Also, fair warning, this is a Chris Evans heavy list, I’m sorry.😬

Now, this is just to give you guys an idea where my madness has been taking me for the last year and I guess put out some feelers. All of these have been plotted/mapped {heavily} and written up to an extent. These are just a few of them, in total there are about eight ideas that I’ve been debating. I know, eight new ideas are very ambitious, but I am vowing 2020 to be a hyper-productive year for me.

So, let me know what you guys think, what you’re looking forward to, what has your strong vote to be pushed to number one. Whatever you like.

As always, thank you for following me, commenting on my work, and your support since I began this insane journey. ❤❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1}

Title: Teach Me {Mini-Series?}

Chris Evans x Famous OFC Delilah “Lilah” Lake

Series Warning: Cursing, Angst, Fluff, Smut, NSFW, Older Man/Slightly Younger Woman, Violence, Slow Burn, Erotica

Summary: Everyone knows Chris Evans. He’s the world-famous actor, heartthrob and the man ninety-nine percent of the female population would trade anything for one night with. While Chris is a famous star he has a very unknown secret and beyond his better judgment, you’ve got his eye. You’re relatively new in Hollywood especially when you look at the careers of the veterans. You have two movies under your belt and now you’re cast with Chris Evans in what is being labeled as “The most anticipated Rom/Com of the year”. You’ve heard many things about his kindness, and you’re relieved to know they are all true when he sees just how much of a virgin you are both professionally and personally.

**Inspired by a request from @evemej **

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2} 

Title: Detail 

Special Agent Chris Evans AU x OFC Jolie Merrick

Warning: Violence, Angst, Plot, Slow Burn, Mild to High Levels NSFW, Cursing, Smut

Summary: You’re independent, smart, down to earth and love to have fun. As an only child, you have always been the apple of your father’s eye and you’d do almost anything to make him happy. Though you’ve lived your life under a microscope you’ve always found a way to make it work. You see you’re the daughter of the president with the code name Bluebird. You can imagine this job is more dangerous than ever thanks to the drastic increase in world chaos.

When a new disturbing threat has been discovered against none other than the president himself and his daughter–you, your father steps in and gets the best to protect his last living immediate family. Special Agent Chris Evans is the best, after two tours in the Marines to then do it again as a Seal he’s finally home after committing ten years to the military. Now an agent his next mission is lead of the Bluebird detail. It should be easy after the career he’s had but she has different kinds of weapons of mass destruction. 

**Inspired by my new obsession with Jack Ryan and the concept of secret agents**

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3} 

Title: Two Different Worlds: Freshman Year

College AU Chris Evans X OFC Qira “KeKe” O’Day

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Violence, Fluff, NSFW, Smut, Plot,

Summary: Everyone says college is supposed to be the time of your life. They say it’s the time you figure life and yourself out. That is exactly what you plan on doing. You are a freshman at UCLA, one of the top universities in the country with a Biophysics major. Problem #1, it wasn’t your top pick. In order to get to your top pick, you have to get through the year then transfer into your number one; University of Boston. Nothing is going to get in your way, not your AP course load, or your party-hearty friends, or the numerous temptations of being a college female on the West coast and definitely not him–the star quarterback, the most wanted human on campus; Chris Evans. No distractions mean no distractions, especially from a guy. It doesn’t matter how hot, talented, charming, rich, and likable he is. When it comes down to it, the two of you are from two different worlds.

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4}

Title: Later Rather Than Sooner

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader Mikayla “Mik” Xavier

Series Warning: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, Slow Burn, Slight to Mild NSFW, Mild Violence

Summary: Thirty-seven years, that’s how long you and Chis have been friends. Thirty-Seven years. He’s seen you at your worst because of Tyler Johnson who gave you your first kiss underneath the bleachers in middle school at lunch, then two periods later caught him kissing Tamara Hodge. You saw him at his worst when Alana Michaels his “girl next door” broke his heart at tenth-grade prom. You saw his first big break, then the next and the next. He’s been there for every huge moment in his life just the same as you’ve always been there. Everyone sort of expected the two of you to end up together sooner or later.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So there you have it guys, potentially coming in 2020. It was so hard to narrow this down and I didn’t do a very good job here. LOL. 🤣

What do you guys think? Any you’d a “hell yeah” to? I love them all so much, you have no idea.😁 I know this is a lot, not as much as the eight, but still. I may or may not get to them all and I may just throw a curveball and put one that isn’t on this list out but, I wanted to compile this for my sanity and for you guys. 

Yes, I will be continuing my other Works In Progress and a few one-shots and HCs I have planned as well as the requests still in my inbox (I haven’t forgotten) so bear with me and my madness and let’s see what happens.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Past Due

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean x OFC (Mature Female, First POV)

Summary: She’s the helpful aide at the local library in Smith Center, Kansas that Sam and Dean have known for years. She’s a little older, a little wiser (sometimes), but what happens when Dean displays interest in her outside of research?

Word Count: TBD

Content: language, angst, fluff, smut

Am I being checked out while checking him out? 

I scan the barcode on the back cover. His eyes are trained on my face with a little more interest than usual.

Do I have some spinach between my teeth from the salad I had for lunch? God, why does he have to do that thing with his tongue?

I readjust the glasses on the bridge of my nose and make some quiet small talk with the gorgeousness in front of me. I do most of the talking and he does most of the nodding.

No. Dean Winchester is not checking me out. He’s just existing and breathing and short circuiting my brain as he tends to do on occasion with his proximity. 

I will not fuss with my hair like I always do when he’s close enough for me to smell him. Oh, Goddammit.

I feel like a sixteen year old around this man. Every damn time. It’s not fair. It happened the first time I met him six years ago. He’d handed over the paperwork and I processed his library card application. He smiled that lopsided grin that says, You poor unsuspecting creature. I’m so handsome I don’t even have to make much of an effort.

That was the day he and his mountain man of a brother, Sam, walked into the Smith Center Library. Back when they had used Campbell as their last names on the application. And before they had helped with a haunting that blew their aliases. At least with me. It was a “job” for them that involved my brother five towns over. The house he had bought for a song at a sheriff sale, turned out, came with a supernatural squatter. 

“No shit it was cheap. Because someone was murdered in it. No offense, but your brother was pretty much asking for trouble knowing that going in.” I still remember Dean’s very accurate logic when they’d gotten the full history. 

I shouldn’t feel like a sixteen year old - when I’m 46, speeding toward 47 in a couple months - with a man five years my junior. Even if it is Dean Winchester. 

He reminds me of my second husband, Lou. Full of sass, rounded out with some grump, and a sprinkle of edge. He drinks like Lou did. I only know that because I’d bought Dean and Sam a round of drinks one night a few years back. It was a thank you after they’d burned the remains of the poor soul that was stuck in what they called a death echo in my younger brother’s house. Top shelf scotch is Dean’s preferred drink of choice when someone else is buying, by the way. And he has a high tolerance for alcohol that one only gets after decades of experience. Like my second husband, Lou.

He drives a vintage muscle car like Lou did, too. You can hear it ten seconds before it turns onto West Court Street and pulls up to park in front of the library. That engine sound always gets my fellow co-workers on high alert and wide eyed, just like me. It’s a disappointment to all of us when it’s not Dean.

He flirts with every female between the ages of eighteen and eighty that crosses his path. Again, like Lou. It’s his default setting. He seems to prefer a tight skirt from what I’ve gathered through my research. But he rarely slights and denies the opposite sex his charms or thorough assessment if they decide to don pants or shorts.

My brain finally registers the title of the book he’s checked out on the computer screen. The attraction fog has lifted for a brief second. I turn the tome over on the counter and read the title aloud. “Fairies and Wood Nymphs? Do I want to ask?”

He shakes his head. I twist my fingers near my mouth to indicate my lips are sealed. Then he flashed me that weird look again. Almost like he’s processing some data. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been in here for over a month and I’m paying every flinch and twitch even more attention than usual. I realize in real time I’m cataloguing all of these In case I don’t see him for another month. Or, God forbid, two months. “You really are, aren’t you, Winter?” He finally pipes up with a question, using my surname as usual. The smile returns to his face.

“What’s that, Mr. Campbell?” I respond with a way too giddy smile and slide the book back to him. My coworkers are probably snickering at me behind the periodicals as they watch the show. Sure, like they wouldn’t be putty in this man’s hands, either. Even Ronald turns into mush around Dean.

He bends and leans back a bit to rest those thick forearms on the counter. Plaid clad shoulders, green eyes, freckled skin, and pouty lips are now at eye level with my five foot four frame. “Good at keeping a secret.” He mumbles and lowers his voice more with every syllable.

That voice triggers the floodgates down below.

What the hell is going on right now? “Friends don’t call me ‘The Vault’ for nothin’.” I somehow get the sentence out. Being this close reminds me of the night at the bar. When the scotch had worked its magic at the Mexican restaurant. The neon green cactus aesthetic and terra cotta motif had lulled Dean into some sort of sarape security blanket. He’d divulged a lot after Sam, downing only one drink, had left in the Impala with the promise to pick up his brother in a couple of hours. By the end of the night, Dean said I was a good listener and not quick to judge. That I had a nice calming presence. That I’d must have seen some heavy shit in my lifetime, too. 

“Can I ask you something?” His brows raise.

My mouth has dried up so I can only nod in response.

He cocks his head to the library entrance. “Do you have a minute to talk outside?”

I nod again. I may not be the boss, but my seniority and elder status give me a little leeway.

He rises up, taps the counter and grabs the book. “I’ll be waitin’ in the car.” I get a full smile this time and almost pass out.

I push the front door of the library and spill out on the sidewalk a couple minutes later. His black beauty of a car is still there, waiting. The nippy Fall temperature is enough for me to wrap my cardigan tight around my middle. Dean is in the driver’s seat, windows open, with Lynyrd Skynyrd playing on the radio.

He has an eager and appreciative look on his face when he exits the vehicle and walks toward the hood to meet me. “Thanks.”

I shrug. “What did you want to ask me?” I wrap some stray, windswept strands back behind my ear.

“Sam and I, we could use some help at the bunker.”

I can’t help but gasp at the word. Bunker. This legendary place I’ve gotten sparse, verbal descriptions of here and there over the years. Their home base. Sam has boasted of its library to me.

“Well, mainly Sam could use some help. Because I’m useless when it comes to the library. And, he also doesn’t trust me when it comes to the books.”

Library. I’m able to stifle another gasp. I stand in silence, waiting for more.

He sighs. “Let’s just say we had an accident. A lot of the books got damaged, flew off shelves into a massive paper mountain.”

My head nods in a fury. “Yes, I’d love to help.”

He chuckles at my eagerness. “Great.” He hands me a note, like we’re in high school. “Meet me at this intersection and I’ll show you the rest of the way there?”

“When?”

“Whatever's good for you.”

I realize how non existent my social life is lately and offer, “Friday night?”

He nods. Another grin. “Eight?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s a date.” He winks.

Lou NEVER winked.

PAST DUE Updated/Parts Published Weekly on my PATREON - early access to my DEANcentric Fics before Tumblr and AO3.

[prorevenge]

Racist mom tries to bribe son to dump me, I gain power over everything she cares about.

This is gonna be a LONG post lol, may have gotten exact timing sequences out of order.

Met a guy that we had mutual friends with and invited him to hang out with my friends and do fun stuff. Later learned he was not even allowed to hang out with my crowd cuz his mother was the very strict and hypocritical sort who thought everyone else was inferior to her precious kids. Guy was telling them he was doing work or something. Eventually he told them he wanted to date me and they flipped. The dad doesn’t have much say in the house and the mom (EM) was livid.

You know how Amish people don’t like rock and “sinful” music? Or females that wear shorts and tanks? Yuuup basically her. She went through my social medias and literally compiled and printed out giant lists of every country song I’d ever posted or concert I’d been to or clothing she thought was too provocative along and gave it to the pastors at both of our churches. EP called MY mom at 2am a couple times to rant and rave about “how could she let her daughter do such sinful things and flirt with boys yada yada yada”. She made racist remarks to Guy (I’m a super cute half Asian half messican, and all of his family is pale white golden haired angels) and even asked him if I’d molested him (I’m 5’ 2” and he’s literally a foot taller than me) and if that’s why he wanted to date and marry me. He was still at home and they went on a family trip to Colorado. Or as it turned out to be an exorcism style prayer meeting over Guy because EM just knows there must be a demon or something wrong with him. Oh and this was only within a span of a few months while he saved up to move the hell out.

Nope not over yet. EM then was harassing his work, his new church pastors (mine), his friends, got one of his business partners to leave him with lies that Guy is “bipolar” and “Schizophrenic”, thankfully most of the people had our back and we had some good laughs over what outrageous things they told us. Even driving an hour and a half to his apartment (I know dumb move to let them know where he moved to), in the middle of the night a couple times to harass and berate him and blubber about how everyone would judge her and how her reputation was going to suffer and church standing, she even dragged his two younger siblings into it all and told him they were heartbroken that he moved out and all the reasons he needed to move back home. Cue even more fun, one night he was just done so when they showed up to again try and bully him into moving back home or at least dumping me, he just up and left. Got in his mini and drove away. AND THEY FOLLOWED HIM. Unbelievable right? He used to race his mini so he lost them pretty quickly and booked it over to where I lived and spent the night there. I know, why not call the cops right? Well there was no physical damage or threats thereof. Yes she’s been verbally and borderline physically abusive to him growing up, think patriarchy super conservatives but it’s a matriarchy. At one point EM asked Guy what it would take for him to dump me, what amount of money could she pay him (Guys dad makes buttloads of moola, yeah those kind of people) to get me out of his life and for him to move back home. SHE TRIED TO BRIBE HIM TO LEAVE ME. She’d threatened to disown him and all the typical rich EP stuff before and knew he didn’t care. EM even called all his guy friends and asked if Guy has ever had any “homosexual” tendencies etc. Next month Guy proposed, and EM was SO MAD that she heard about it for the first time from a mutual friend congratulating her on the upcoming wedding! So of course she calls all the pastors and REEEEs about how we’ve been living in sin (kicker, we hadn’t even done the dirty dance but she didn’t bother asking) and telling everyone that they shouldn’t attend the wedding etc. Yea call us prudes :p EM also printed out all the reasons why I wasn’t good enough for her son and handed those out like candy to church leaders. Then when that had no effect she switched tactics and did the same thing with all her reasons why he was immature and shouldn’t get married and should move back home and be parented. Still no effect, except my dad at a huge meeting where she tried to distribute those, gathered them all back up and handed them to her and told her to stop slandering us and said how ungodly that was. And she stood there baffled and all the other people present agreed with my dad and told her to put those papers away. EMs exact words “but but I thought the very reason everyone is here is to show Guy why he needs to leave that girl and move back home!” I couldn’t help a giggle and a few other people couldn’t either. That meeting is a whole nother story, it was hilarious.

Where is the revenge you ask? Well all that was just the tip of the iceberg of course, but the revenge has been pretty simple. Spend a few obvious nights (SLEEPING ONLY) at his place, just to trigger her, but ofc our pastors and friends knew we’d committed to abstinence our entire lives up to the wedding (hella yea wedding night was killer) and other things like that to get under her skin but nothing that anyone else thought was bad. Very publicly plan and execute a HUGE wedding (over 500 people) and tell everyone about how our relationship is so beautiful and holy and how Gods destiny brought us together yada yada. She made a couple extra hoops for our pastors but we jumped through them with flying colors and everyone except her thought we were the cutest most Christian kosher thing. So basically to save face she had to fake smile and accept all the congratulations and be secretly embarrassed that we didn’t invite her to the wedding showers (she said she never wanted to see me and wouldn’t go to the wedding) and made excuses as to why she hadn’t gone, EM couldn’t tell her friends that we hadn’t invited her now could she? She went after the best man too and he almost decided against being the best man she was such a hassle and he was a pushover, but I told him the best passive way to deal with her is tell her that he wants to be there for his friend and how could she argue with that? She didn’t. But of course, what’s better than forcing her to attend the wedding but not allowing her to ruin it? Extremely petty I know, but I’m a drama llama and have enjoyed 98% of all this. I of course get ahold of EMs own mom and get to know her and she’s very sweet and loves me to death, along with Guys siblings and his dad, as many of EMs own friends and their families etc. So everyone loves me and when we invite them all to the wedding, they strong arm her into coming. I have my cop friends who have been having a heyday hearing about all this drama coming in for the wedding, one of them I make my MC so if she tried anything, not only would they take care of her swiftly, but she would also deeply embarrass herself because there was no denying that there were 500+ people there who loved Guy and I, including a lot of her friends. The ceremony was great, went off without a hitch, oh wait... I am not a bridezilla so if anything went wrong it was fine and the drama was cracking me up, I was a little disappointed she didn’t try anything drastic, but I could see on her face the entire time that EMs smile was sooo fake, and I got reports that she was seen crying outside later. Watching people congratulate her was priceless. When my own friends congratulated her a few of them later told me that she seemed surprised that I had any “respectable” friends (her literal words) who thought well of me. And no I’d arranged her to be only in one photo so she couldn’t ruin any others.

Oh and our wedding day was only the 3rd time she’d ever set eyes on me. She was against me from the start for almost a year without ever having spoken a word or ever seen me in person. Take that EM. To this day I have no idea what was her real beef with me. Happy ending: now that I provided the first grandkids, to my chagrin they’re like baby Targaryens they’re so white, and of course she’s too “young” to be a grandma so she’s called “nana”, but we laid down ground rules and she knows we will ostracize her at the drop of a hat, and she has kissed butt so hard and to her credit done her best to mend everything without ever really actually mentioning any of it. It’s great. We have holidays and fun visits in between and she showers us with super expensive gifts and will drop everything possible to help if we need anything. I think we’re friends now. One day I think she might bring it all up and try and play the victim, idk, but she’ll be hit with a carefully detailed account of everything that went down, in case her memory “fails” her. I can forgive but I’ll never forget, after all, I got my delicious revenge. Power over everything she holds dear and the evidence to expose whatever she hasn’t already done by her own dumb self and absolutely ruin her reputation and community and church standing. I feel really good right now

TLDR entitles mom wants to be petty about me dating her son so I take petty to another universe levels and crush her with epicc facts and logic and hold all the cards to ruin her life now

(source) story by (/u/cyborgurl)

[kaoarika]

I published part of this rant in Twitter some days ago after this month’s BTB’s chapter summary was available and I’m... yeah... (spoilers ahead)

Don’t get me wrong, I like hpmi, and I have been expecting more past lore details as time goes on as many of you, but I cannot lie to myself in saying “I like what they are doing on this”, or “I’m satisfied with it”, because I’m clearly not.

I know there's an obvious "foregone conclusion" in all of this... but still I don't like how the overall plot is built towards that, which is the present.

And I’m like “there’s much more potential here and there... but this is all going very straightforward to a very expected route”.

Kinda wishing Ramuda was more rebellious, tbh. That the whole thing of TDD being was half "well, ofc that's the plan (becoming perfect soldiers for CW... maybe? to take the whole country?) I'm following" and half "but I want to burn those witches because 'reasons'" was what was going on.

That's the thing with my lack of full satisfaction on how it has been building up to its "foregone conclusion". Also, I wish there were more bonding time between the guys shown would be good to BELIEVE they miss those old days instead of "leaving it to you ;)" (and a drama track showing those “good days” is not enough as canon goes.. .especially because, if canon goes by, they were together for less than a year).

...and yes, perhaps I'm salty because my potential what ifs sound more interesting than what official canon is offering.

Because in some way, it all feels “sort of obvious or expectable to happen”. I don’t like that it has been hinted or suggested that Ichiro and Samatoki fought because brainwashing reasons to “convince” (definitely not on free will, either, I assure you) Nemu to ally/get into POW/CW. I mean, I get it - it’s called “Hypnosis Mic” for a reason, but brainwashing being the main reason these two fought... when they went through that ALREADY with Sasara and Kukou seems... you know? Repetitive. As if it was the ONLY solution for POW’s problems.... I am hopeful POW aren’t pretty repetitive in their plans, lol. 

And I get it, these two are more juvenile than Jakurai and Ramuda, where it seems even more on a personal level because I’m sensing there’ gonna be whole betrayal in trusting a person you ended up respecting as some sort of teacher and friend once Jakurai finds out that Ramuda is someone he didn’t know he was (well, technically not REALLY him, anyways, because clones).

And, tbh, I guess I still want something like that go towards the other two. Like, there could be different ideals or way of taking things, especially in how they are taking the whole country in regards on how to destroy the base of the problems a.k.a. CW. 

I have elaborated on a couple of ideas where that could be sorta neat and have potential (like, CW trapping them in a situation they couldn’t get out by usual means, so differences start to play out and they cannot think as a team) - but, lmao, these are fan theories at the end of the day.  

If Nemu turns out to be the main reason/source of their problems, and if she was the ONLY one brainwashed in the equation, I suppose I could buy that. Both of them can be pretty overprotective towards their younger siblings in pretty irrational ways if confronted by smth related to them. And I do THINK in a way... if Nemu told Samataoki that Ichiro is the one that convinced her to ally POW, WELL, I am pretty sure he would completely trust her word (with anger, but regardless) over his relationship with Ichiro, you know? 

That being said, I suppose Ichiro respects Samatoki in a way that he didn’t with other adult figures in his life (with exception of Jakurai... but let’s be honest - canon doesn’t show that much in the past~) because not only all his paternal figures suuuuucked (starting from his biological dad), but because he is an older brother himself, so he could look at him the same way he want his little brothers to look at him.

If Samatoki starts acting way off, with all his anger... I GUESS the first person he is gonna take issues with is Ichiro, for obvious reasons. Because, to him “he did an unforgivable thing that may have hurt him way deep to destroy all respect and trust he had on him” (”why did he convince Nemu to do what she did?” But Ichiro is going to deny it all (or maybe Samatoki wouldn’t let him know, I mean, it’s also possible). Or maybe he is going to bottle it up... (also highly possible) until he explodes onto him... and that could deeply hurt Ichiro in more ways than one, because... to him that figure he looked up didn’t turn up to be the person he thought him to be. Just like every other figure adult he knew before him (no offense, Jakurai).

I’m hopeful brainwashing is not included in this whole equation, but from how things are looking (I mean, Ichiro talked about it with Sasara in their short reuinon in the BB B.T 2nd B Drama track - we don’t know real details about it, because, lol, ofc we don’t, the only thing we know is from Samatoki’s -or morel ike Ramuda’s “side” in the FP’s Drama Track), I’m prepared for the expected to happen.

(Also, I’m sure there’s another word for “expected”, but man, I cannot come with it, right now)

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It, Part Seven

Jensen x Musician!Reader; Nathan (OMC); Mama Mia (OFC)

Also featured this chapter: Rob Benedict, Briana Buckmaster, Jason Manns

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part seven is from BOTH POVs. There is also a playlist to go along with the series.  

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify). Songs in this chapter include: “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around”; “What About Love”, “The Joker”; “Whipping Post”

Beta’d by @closetspngirl who has contributed so much to this fic! Thank you for not only indulging my lunacy but encouraging it with gusto! She also put together the amazing wardrobe shown in this chapter, as well. I don’t know what I would do without you!!!

Chapter Summary: Realizing that its time to leave NJ again to get back to work on the festival and have a much-needed conversation with Jensen, Y/N meets up with everyone at ChiCon. This gives finally gives her a moment with Jensen and an added bonus of playing with Louden Swain, featuring Briana Buckmaster, on stage for a crowded ballroom; something that affects Jensen more than he was expecting it too.

Chapter Warnings: Ehhh... nothing really. 

WC: 9.5K

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

It had been one month since Y/N left Austin and came back to New Jersey. One month of awkward texts with Jensen related only to work, daily calls or texts from Briana and at least one Skype or FaceTime call from Robbie every few days. When it came to the amount of work and scouting to be done for the festival, the little man was a bundle of nerves and Y/N was the only one who seemed to be able to talk him down.

February came, and that’s when the first real pangs of doubt began to creep in. The life she had begun in Texas was beginning to fade, and she found herself missing it. Y/N missed the townhouse and living so close to a city like Austin with the diversity in the restaurants, the bars, the bands, the nightlife… and of course, there was Jensen. She missed all of it. Not that life in New Jersey had been boring or lackluster. Y/N had gone back to work for Leo temporarily since she was handling both ends of the transactions now for the Brewfest. Being back in her small office in his hotel, living in the bungalow again felt good, but the longer the cold winds of winter at the shore blew through and chilled her to the bone, the more she really missed Austin.

It wasn’t all work, though. She had a couple of occasions to play at one of the bars that were still open in Seaside during the winter, as well as reconnect with a few friends from the Burlesque group. Y/N had even spent some time with Nathan, though when she did, she made sure to keep her guard up, be wary of any promises he made or plans he tried to get her to agree too. Reminiscing with him was a trap that was easier to fall into than she thought it would be, and after the third time they met for coffee, she invited him to go have dinner. Once or twice a week in the time she was home, she would run into him in town, or make plans to hang out. Y/N always tried to keep it in a public place, and never let him get too close. She was doing her best to follow Bri’s advice and figure out what it was she wanted from, not just Nathan, but life itself.

In between all of that, was Jensen. Y/N thought of him every day, and on more than one occasion picked up the phone to actually call him. However, knowing that he was traveling from Vancouver to conventions and back for the foreseeable future, she decided against it. After the way they left things, she thought maybe a random phone call wouldn’t be the best move and wanted to wait until she could see him face to face. When that would be, she didn’t know, but by the time Groundhog Day had rolled around, she felt ready to make it happen soon.

The morning she woke up with the intention to make arrangements to fly back, a winter storm warning had gone into effect, ultimately grounding all flights in or out of the area. Y/N knew the drill and began to run the errands necessary to hunker down for the long haul, getting supplies for two to three days at least. By the time she reached the bungalow and filled the small pellet stove in the corner of the room, the snow had started falling.

As a kid, seeing the beach turn from the beige sand, to white snow had always been sort of magical. Watching the waves crash and spray the icy mist into the swirling flakes made her feel like she was experiencing something majestic, and it always left her feeling a little whimsical and reflective. That’s what she was doing when she heard the knock at the door several hours later, just as the storm was hitting its peak.

Pulling the crocheted blanket around her shoulders, Y/N went to the front door and opened it enough to see who it was.

“Nathan?” she asked, then opened it further and with it came a burst of cold, snowy air. “Come in before the snow does.” She ushered him in and closed the door quickly. “What are you doing here?”

He removed his scarf and hat, shaking off the snow that littered his shoulders and boots. “I came by to make sure you were alright. Didn’t know if you realized that cell service is sketchy, wanted to be sure you had everything you needed.”

“Yeah, I saw the winter storm advisory last night, made sure to hit the market this morning. Don’t tell me you walked all the way here from Seaside Park. That’s a few miles at least.”

“No, I have my dad’s truck,” he said then paused before unzipping his coat. Y/N could see in his eyes he came not just to check up on her, but because he wanted to stay a while.

“I’m fine, Nathan. Just watching the snow, reading and staying warm. I have everything I need.”

“Ok,” he said and half turned back to the door, then faced her again. He wore that crooked grin that she used to love so much. “Well then, maybe you need some company?”

“Sure. But I am going to tell you now, you can’t stay the night. You have to leave before the sun goes down.”

“Of course, Y/N. I just thought we could hang out for a bit.”

“Want some tea?”

“No,” he laughed. “I hate that stuff. I’ll take a soda if you got any, though.”

“Sorry, fresh out,” she said, but there’s water or juice in the fridge.

“Sweet,” he replied as he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack, then removed his boots before heading to the refrigerator and helping himself.

Y/N strolled back to the couch and reclaimed her place near the window that overlooked the ocean. She brought her knees up into her chest and watched Nathan as he moved about the kitchen and the living room just as naturally as he did in the old days. When he finally sat, he took the spot on the opposite end of the same couch she was on and rested his arm along the back of it.

Whenever Y/N and Nathan saw each other while she was visiting this time around, things were always awkward in the beginning. It didn’t matter if it was just for coffee, or on the few occasions that she actually let him take her to dinner. It was almost as if neither of them knew what to do with the situation or what to say to one another. But given enough time, they would end up finding a comfortable conversation.

Some of the time she’d watch him as he talked and recognize the man she used to love; same high cheekbones, same crooked smile, and sandy brown hair. Only now, his hair was short instead of the shoulder length it was when they were younger. His sky blue eyes were still able to lock her in and make her wonder how it had all gone so wrong between them. He had been the love of her life, her prince charming, the man who was going to save her from the kind of life that you grew up promising yourself you’d never live. But it had all gone so, so wrong.

She considered asking him, potentially broaching a long overdue conversation that they needed to have; especially if there was any possibility of a future. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to start. She tried to hide the smile that wanted to come when she wondered what Bri would say about that, but it quickly faded when she realized how much she missed Bri, too. That would make her thoughts circle back around to Austin, again, and how much she longed to go back.

“Hey, haven’t seen these in a long time,” he said and leaned forward, and plucked one of the photo albums from underneath the coffee table.

“Oh, yeah…” she replied and craned her neck over to see which one he picked up. They had been there since she showed Jensen the pictures from Grease, which now felt like a million years ago.

“Holy shit, high school pictures,” he laughed and started flipping through the album.

Over the course of the next hour, Y/N sat a foot or two away, yet enjoyed talking about old times with him. It felt good to laugh with Nathan again; it felt good to have her friend back. She didn’t notice that he was inching closer and closer until suddenly the arm that had been draped around the back of the couch was now brushing against her shoulder.

Nathan continued shaking memories loose; he brought up their junior prom, and how they had spent the night on the beach under the Tiki bar, getting drunk and screwing around until dawn before falling asleep together wrapped up in a blanket. She was smiling at the recollection, enjoying the feeling it brought back into her life when she felt his fingers toying with a tuft of her hair.

“I’ve really missed this,” he said softly. “A lot. I’m glad you’ve let me back in and gave me a chance to make it up to you.”

“Nathan, I… I don’t know--”

He inched closer, and what he did next surprised her. Before she could react, Nathan was brushing his lips against hers. Her eyes stayed open, but his drifted closed. It only lasted for a moment, but in that time Y/N realized that she knew everything she needed to know. She didn’t push him away, even though something inside of her told her too. Y/N kissed him back, but timidly, and without passion. His lips parted against hers, making it clear that he wanted it to escalate, but after a moment, Y/N broke away.

She retreated from him and brought her fingers up, pressing them gently to her lips. “Nathan... “

“Don’t, ok? Don’t say it was a mistake. Just, promise me that you won’t shut down on me. If I was being pushy--”

“It’s not that,” Y/N said and swallowed hard. “I care about your recovery, Nate. Seeing how well you’re doing has even allowed me to start forgiving you. But in the spirit of honesty, you should know that I’m not ready to be with you again. I don’t know if I ever will be. That doesn’t mean there is someone else. It means that I am going back to Austin, and I am focusing on work and don’t want anything sort of romantic entanglements.”

“Oh,” he sighed, clearly disappointed. “That doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye though, right? Can I still call you? Keep in touch?”

“Sure,” she said, and genuinely meant it. “As long as you understand, that, for now, I just want to be your friend.”

She watched him process this and had a second where she didn’t know how he would react. He wasn’t the same Nate she knew most of her life, and yet he wasn’t the last version she knew, either. Nathan was turning into a product of both of those men, and she was still learning his mannerisms and couldn’t always tell what he was going to do.

Nathan made it clear he wanted her back, and this rejection could be dangerous if he wasn’t as far into his recovery as he had said. But once his shoulders relaxed, and he picked his head up to meet her gaze, he smiled more like the Nate of long ago.

“Of course, Y/N. I get it. I’m going to keep showing you that you can trust me again though.”

“You just keep doing what’s best for you, Nate. That’s what would make me the happiest.”

Y/N’s cell began ringing in the with the familiar tone of Robbie’s FaceTime calls. She hesitated to answer it, but also didn’t want to miss out on a chance to talk to him knowing there were some meetings coming up they needed to prep for.

“Excuse me,” she said to Nathan and got up from the couch, pulling the cell out of her pocket as she did.

Y/N moved through the room and stood at the precipice of the hallway as she answered the call.

“Hey Robbie, what’s shakin’?” she answered in greeting.

“Thank God you picked up. When are you coming back, lady? I need you in Austin. I won’t be able to get back to there for another week or so. Any chance you’re heading back soon?”

“I’m working on it Robert,” she replied with a sigh. “The damned snow, however, has other plans.”

“Soon-ish, then?”

“Yes, my darling. Soonish. Honestly, as soon as the airports open up, I’m getting a ticket and will be on my way.”

“Did he tell you that the TCAC meeting was pushed back to the end of February?” Robbie asked into the camera, and the concern she saw on his face made her feel guilty.

“No,” she answered softly.

Her disappointment was not lost on Robbie. He hesitated, not wanting to make her feel worse, though he knew Jensen had been avoiding her. He didn’t have all the details about what happened between them but knew enough to know something had. “He’s been crazy busy, you know. Traveling like a lunatic. I’m sure he just forgot.”

“I’m sure,” she agreed and immediately wanted to change the subject. “So, the grant proposals? Any word?”

“Yes! Actually,” Robbie paused, relieved that she was the one to shift gears and shuffled through some papers that were off screen. He held up two and smiled victoriously. “We got two approvals! One from the Austin Creative Alliance and another just came through yesterday from one of the Federal ones. Buuuttt… can’t seem too…” he drifted off to the side, leaning out of the camera frame again.

Y/N chuckled. “Rob, it’s fine, come on back.”

She shifted away from the wall by the hallway and wandered into the kitchen to put the tea kettle back on the stove. As she did, Rob came back into view and noticed Nathan in the background of her call.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. I won’t keep ya while I look for it.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah… that’s ok. My friend Nate dropped by to be sure I was stocked up for the storm. He’s leaving soon, so if you need to go over more stuff later, I’ll be here.”

“Oh great. The band and I are going in to talk to a guy about some stuff coming up, so maybe I will give you a call later. This way you can be totally caught up before heading back to Austin. Which reminds me… did you make your travel arrangements yet for Boston or San Diego?”

“Yes. I am heading to Boston, San Diego and Seattle starting end of February through March. Couple days in each to secure all the contracts with the vendors. Oh, New Orleans, too.”

“Perfect. That means you’ll be back and able to head to Chicago with us, right? Same weekend as ChiCon? Thought we could meet up there and go check out a few bands.”

“Works for me,” Y/N said, and then realized that there would be no avoiding Jensen that weekend.

“Fantastic, you’re a gem, you know that?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere Robert.”

“Love it when you call me Robert,” he teased. “Ok, they’re yelling for me. I’ll talk to you later!”

“Bye,” she chuckled and ended the video call. She returned the phone to her pocket and continued to fix herself a cup of tea.

“So, work friend?” Nathan asked, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen now that her call was through.

“Yes.”

“Nice guy?”

“Yes, he is.”

Nathan nodded, leaned back against the counter and noticed she had only one cup out. “If you wanted me to go, you could just say so. I mean, you told him I was leaving soon. One cup out…”

Y/N sighed softly and tried to not turn the visit sour. “I thought you hated tea? Besides, it’s getting late. As well as things have been between us, I am not ready for you to stay here. With the weather being what it is, you probably should head back to your mom’s. I’m sure she could use your help with your dad being laid up with his foot in a cast. Can’t be easy for her to manage this weather on her own.”

He nodded, though she could see him straining to keep his mouth shut.

“I’m not trying to shut you out, Nathan. I genuinely have enjoyed hanging out with you again. You know, after all that shit happened--with the fight, and your life spiraling out of control--I never thought you’d be you again. Or that I would even be able to stand to be in the same room as you. But, here we are. Can’t that be enough for now?”

Nathan’s shoulders relaxed. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want this to continue.” She was blunt, but she needed to be. Y/N didn’t want to take any chances where Nathan was concerned.

“Alright,” he finally replied and pushed off the counter. He went to take his coat off the hook and as he laced his arms through the sleeves, turned to face her again. “I’m grateful you’re giving me another chance, Y/N. I am. So, you call the shots, ok? I know you’re busy, but maybe once your traveling calms down, I can even come to visit you in Austin. Never been to Texas before.”

The idea of him in Austin felt strange. There was a sudden fear that if the two different parts of her life came together like that it would blow up her entire world in some glorious fashion. Trying to neither encourage or discourage the idea of his visit, she simply shrugged, found her most pleasant smile and nodded.

Nathan moved across the kitchen and took her in an embrace before she had the chance to say no. It was a familiar feeling; similar to what one experience when finding an old winter coat they hadn’t worn in years. It may not fit properly anymore, but the quilting of the fabric brought back pleasant memories.

“Call me, ok?” he said before releasing her.

“Sure thing. Take care of yourself, Nate.”

When Nate opened the door to go, the wind whipped through and the day’s fading light allowed him just enough time to get home before going completely dark. When the door latched shut behind him, she felt a mild sense of relief that she was alone again. There were still a lot of things she wanted to have time to mull over before returning to Austin, especially before seeing Jensen again in Chicago. The extended trip home had been good for her, despite the reasons she ended up there. It allowed her time to be sure that Austin and the job were the things she truly loved and wanted in her life.

Even the time she spent with Nate had been helpful in coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t something that had to stand in her way anymore. Her feelings for Jensen were still confusing and muddled, but in her heart, Y/N felt sure that her time as Nate’s girlfriend had come to an end. Though unexpected, the kiss they had shared that night cemented that. She could find room in her heart for him as a friend, but there was no future for them as a couple.

Lost in thoughts, Y/N didn’t move from the counter until the kettle began to whistle behind her. She flipped off the burner, and as she poured the hot water into the cup, she felt determined to settle the Jensen business. With so many of her other uncertainties fading away, she wanted this one too as well. Taking her cell phone back out of her pocket, she went to the contacts in her messaging app and pulled up “Mama”. If anyone could help her sort things out, it would be that tall drink of water.

<<Hey, any chance you’re around once snowmaggedon stops?

It only took about ten seconds for her to respond.

>>I’ve always got time for you, sugar. Whatcha thinkin’?

<<Rehearsal?

>>Cancelled.

<<Damn. Ok, snow should be done by midnight. Coffee at my place in the AM?

>>Be there with bells on.

<<Knowing you, I expect nothing less. Luv u!

>>Back atcha

The following morning dawned bright, with a clear sky and a snowy beach that reflected the colors of sunrise. Mama was knocking on Y/N’s door by quarter past nine, holding a pastry box in one hand and a garment bag in the other.

Y/N opened the door to greet her, and immediately broke out into laughter as she realized that Mama was wearing sleigh bells in her hair.

“You’re a freak,” Y/N laughed and gave the woman a big wet kiss on her cheek. “But you’re my freak.”

“Always and forever,” Mama purred lowly, winking at Y/N as she handed off both the pastry box and bag. “Dear Lord, I have not been here in forever! When was the last time?”

“God… it has to be last spring, maybe. Maybe even Christmas prior.”

“Either way, too long. Though I see you’ve kept the decor fisherman chic. Please, when will you let me redecorate for you?”

“One day, I promise. But for now, I have some things I want to talk to you about.”

Y/N moved around her small kitchen, pouring coffee and unveiling the apple crumb cake Mama brought from Freedman’s Bakery. The smell of apples and cinnamon instantly filled the room and mixed with the aroma of the coffee, Mama began to hum.

“Mmmm MM! It smells good in here. Like a little slice of heaven,” she sighed and pulled out one of the two chairs at the kitchen table. Just as she sat, she gratefully took the hot mug Y/N offered her. “What sort of things do you have on your mind?”

“Well,” Y/N started, then pulled out a seat of her own and began to slice the crumb cake. “I texted you last night because I had something on my mind. However, I couldn’t sleep last night, and I started thinking about work, and had something else entirely to talk to you about.” Y/N was rambling and Mama sensed she was probably already a pot deep into the coffee.

“Honey,” Mama said and covered Y/N’s hands to get them to stop fidgeting with the cake. “Slow down. First things first… what was on your mind last night?”

She hesitated, unsure of how to start. “I didn’t get to tell you because you were in Florida, but I went to a New Year’s party, back in Austin.”

“Ok, sounds fun. Continue,” Mama said and motioned towards her before sipping at her coffee.

“Right. Well, I guess I should start with saying that when I was home for Christmas, Nate showed up here Christmas morning. Then, I went back early so I could go to this party with Jensen. He kissed me at midnight and then I panicked and ran out.”

Mama coughed as she tried to swallow her coffee and then carefully placed the mug back on the table. She grabbed a napkin and wiped at the corners of her mouth like the old southern debutante that she had once been. Once she regained her composure, she sat up straighter and looked Y/N squarely in the eye.

“You best start from the beginning and leave no detail out. Because hearing that you spent an evening with that luscious man is one thing, but also hearing that dickhead’s name in the mix has soured the first bit. Explain yourself, please. What the hell do you mean that Nathan was here on Christmas? Why didn’t you call me?”

“He took me by surprise. He wanted to talk.”

“And you let him in?”

“Yes...” Y/N replied with a sigh, knowing she would get a barrage of crap from Mama for that.

“I’m in shock. After what he did to you!?”

“I know… I just… I don’t know. He wanted to apologize. He’s working the twelve steps--”

“Twelve steps? Ha! Twelve steps…” she muttered. “I didn’t realize you could twelve-step your way out of being a shithead.”

“I know he was terrible then, but for a lot of years he wasn’t and I guess I wanted to know if there was anything good left in him. I saw a glimmer of who he used to be.”

“We need to move on from Nate, cause honey, it just makes my blood boil.”

“Ok, so after he left, I went back to Austin a few days later and went to a party with Jensen. We’ve been getting along great, working together well, and he’s a lot of fun.”

“Yes, he certainly is,” she mused, her expression quickly fading from aggravated to dreamy. “Now I believe you mentioned something about a kiss…”

“He did. WE did… at midnight,” Y/N answered and couldn’t help feeling the twist in her gut that was now associated with that night.

“And?”

“And… it…”

“Y/N?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never felt anything like that. Ever.”

Mama’s face relaxed into a euphoric afterglow. “Please, dear, sweet Lord in Heaven tell me you let that man have his way with you.”

“No!” Y/N laughed and got up from the seat. She was feeling anxious about it all; mostly because she felt so stupid for having run away from him. “It was amazing, and then I got nervous. Someone walked in and it gave me a moment to basically lose my mind and run.”

“You left?!” Mama’s jaw dropped and she quickly stood from the table. “What the--Child, I should whoop your ass. First, you let Nathan in this house, then you run out on that precious Texas boy? It’s like I don’t even know you,” she huffed.

Mama, for a woman of her generous height and weight moved across the kitchen in a heartbeat and lightly smacked the back of Y/N’s head twice.

“One for lettin’ Nathan in, the other for running out on Jensen!”

“Ow,” Y/N whined and rubbed the back of her head. Her brow furrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Trust me, I wish I knew why I do what I do. One second we were… you know, gettin’ handsy, and the next minute…” she shrugged.

“That son of a bitch Nathan… he was on your mind, wasn’t he?”

“Partially. It was more than that though. I’ve had two relationships in my life, Mama. Two. Nathan, and he who shall not be named.”

“Mmmm, yes. I forgot you had your own Voldemort. But that was what... six months after Nathan left and lasted for less than a month? You can’t count him… especially cause I can’t even remember his name.”

“Whatever, my point is, that both of these relationships were toxic. The last thing I want right now is another go-round with getting my heart broken. I should never have dated after Nathan, so figured I would try a one night stand. It left me so cold and empty. I don’t want that, either. I didn’t want to ruin a good friendship with Jensen, or have it turn toxic.”

“Sug, I get that. But you can’t push your feelings away every time they try and wake you up.”

“Can’t I? I love this job, Mama. I feel like I finally found what I am meant to do. What if we slept together, and it got weird. I wouldn’t be able to work with him. Besides, it’s not even all that happened.”

“What else?” she sighed and rubbed at her temples. “This should have been a Bloody Mary breakfast.”

Y/N ignored her quip. “The next day I told him I wanted to talk. He said he was busy. So I stopped by to drop off some contracts and it turned out he was home. He lied because he didn’t want to talk.”

“That’s why you are back here, instead of living in Austin?”

Y/N nodded and watched with anxiety as Mama seemed to sift through a host of quiet thoughts before deciding how to respond.

“If I didn’t love you as I do... I would smack you again.”

“Why?”

“He lied? So what?! You ran out on him! You know what that’s gonna do to a man’s pride. Hell, anyone’s pride?! Sugar, you… you need to stop lettin’ that heart of yours dictate all your decisions. That man--I spent time with him, ok? I saw how he watched you on that stage. You didn’t. I saw how his face lit up, and that gorgeous grin spread from ear to ear. You mesmerized him.”

Mama took Y/N’s chin between her fingers and lovingly lifted her face so their eyes could meet. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t like that boy.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, almost pathetically. “I do like him. But I’m also very scared of him.”

Mama considered this for a minute and smiled at her friend. “Then, you need to go back to Texas, make amends, and rekindle that friendship you two had been startin’. I think that will be how you stop being so damn scared.”

“I have a flight out tonight,” Y/N said and laughed when Mama raised both fists into the air in celebration.

“That’s my girl!”

“I mean, I won’t see him for a while, but I think you’re right. I owe him an apology. I just hope he can forgive me.”

“I have no doubt that he probably already has. Now, that’s settled… Nat--”

“No. I’ve given him enough thought lately. I’d rather talk about my burst of inspiration that I had last night.”

“Which was?”

“You, the whole troupe… I want you to perform at the festival.”

Mama’s eyes grew large, her plump dimpled cheeks expanding as the smile unfurled across her painted pink lips. “Shut the hell up! Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean… I am still working out all the logistics, but, we have a few stages to fill and I thought who better than to take on one of the theaters for the Saturday night slot? Whatever you guys wanna do… it’s your call. We have a hotel all reserved for talent, so your accommodations are taken care of. And I am sure I could help you with the travel arrangements. I just need you guys to say yes, and you’re in.”

“Well slap my ass and call me Sally!” Mama cackled and smacked her knee; her southern lilt bolder than usual. “You best believe we’ll be there, suga!”

“Fantastic! I will get you all of the details as soon as I get back to Austin.”

“Well now, hold on one second… you know what’s funny,” Mama said and went into the living room to retrieve the garment bag she had brought with her. “I brought this today because I thought you may want it for something. Didn’t know what, but when Marie brought it into rehearsals last I was there, everyone agreed only you would be able to pull this costume off.”

She hung the hanger on the top door of the refrigerator and slowly unzipped the vinyl bag. Y/N softly gasped when she saw the frock Mama had brought her. It was a full-length strapless dress that had a corset top with a heart-shaped bustier with deep purple accents, streaming out into a black skirt that was shorter in the front and flowed out from the back. The skirt itself had black velvet swirls imprinted on the ebony material and heavily ruffled bottom that would give it an amazing look when it twirled.

“Mama…” she breathed and ran her fingers over the dark purple accents. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is. And in the bottom are the accessories. You have to wear this. At least once. And what a better place than at the festival. So, you agree to perform one number with us, then we will be there to fill your stage for an entire night.”

Y/N considered the offer and knew that she had to say yes. She hadn’t gotten to the point where she thought about her part in performing at the festival. Working behind the scenes had completely garnered all her attention, so this was the first time she gave it any real thought.

“Alright,” she said, “you win. I will take this back to Austin with me and put it aside for a night on stage with The Corsets. Do I get to pick the routine, or…?”

“Oh no, honey. I’m the Creative Director now,” Mama pinched her cheek and took her place back at the table. “Now, don’t think I am done talking about this whole Jensen situation. I wanna hear more details about this New Year’s Eve party…” She leaned back and sipped her coffee before taking a large bite of her crumb cake. “You best start talking.”

For the rest of the morning, Y/N caught Mama up on New Year’s Eve, including playing with Bri, hearing Jensen sing, the encounter with Dee all the way up to her moment in the game room. By the time the coffee was gone and the cake was only crumbs, Mama had heard the tale, soup to nuts, and sat there stunned, letting it all sink in.

They talked a while longer before Y/N realized the time and had to get ready to leave for the airport. Mama had hugged her tightly with both a warning and a promise before she left.

“I promise that we will put on one hell of a show for those Texans. But, in the meantime, stop being stupid and go kiss the cute boy. Let him know that you’re all in, even if it is a slow-moving gamble. You’ll regret it if you don’t. You hear? I’ll keep my promise to whoop you when I get to Austin if you don’t. Got it?”

“Yes, Mama,” Y/N laughed and embraced her again before watching her go out into the cold winter air.

Hours later, as she made her way through the airport and onto the plane, she felt good about going back. There were still a few lingering doubts about how she and Jensen would be with seeing each other again, but there was time to work on that. First, she needed to get back to Austin, her new home, and refocus herself completely on making the Brewfest as big, bold and beautiful as Jensen’s vision for it was. Outside of that, everything would just have to wait.

Much like Y/N expected, there wasn’t much of a chance to see Jensen through the rest of February and March. It was disappointing to her, mostly because she was really starting to miss him. His schedule in Vancouver changed last minute, which caused him to have to miss the Texas Creative Arts Council meeting as well as a few others he had intended to be at, in turn dashing her hopes of finally getting to talk face to face. Her own travel schedule picked up, as she zigzagged across the country meeting with business owners, sponsors, and supporters of the Hometown Brewfest extravaganza.   

The frequency of text exchanges between them increased, and it gave her a glimmer of hope that they could still work through whatever they needed to. As the weeks carried on, and the dates of ChiCon inched closer, Y/N found herself growing more and more anxious about finally having that moment.

Two weeks before, the whole group was in Nashville for a con, while Y/N was wrapping up some last minute business in New Orleans. She was chatting with Rob about a band she found by happenstance, and during the video call, Jensen passed behind him in the background. Her heart lept up in her throat, though she successfully kept her outward demeanor calm and collected. Y/N watched as Jensen did a double take as he noticed her on the screen of Rob’s phone. Leaning over his friend’s shoulder, he shoved his face in the camera and smiled, gave a simple wave and then was called away before he could actually speak.

It was enough to give her that final boost of confidence that they would be ok, but she still desperately needed to clear the air with him. That, however, wouldn’t happen for another two weeks when she found herself pacing the backstage area of the hotel in Chicago where the stars of Supernatural were gathering in preparation for a weekend full of panels, photo ops and a jam-packed concert with Robbie’s band.

Y/N had arrived that Saturday morning well after the festivities had gotten underway. Bri was the first person who she found and was greeted by an over-exuberant hug and the subsequent barrage of questions about everything under the sun. She was quickly whisked away to her panel with Kim, leaving Y/N holding her credentials and aimlessly wandering around the hotel. That was until she found herself on a mission to finally locate and talk to Jensen.

The extra wide hallway of the hotel outside the green room was carpeted with the ugliest yellow, gold and blue carpeting Y/N had ever seen. Though, as she paced it back and forth, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. Eventually, she found herself pacing along the blue lines that intertwined between the yellow and gold diamond pattern. As ugly as it was, it was somehow keeping her nerves at bay. She could run into Jensen at any time now, and it took all of her willpower not to just turn and run… again.

She wouldn’t though. Her and Jensen needed to set things straight. She didn’t know if this was the way to do it, or what she would say exactly, but she knew it had to be done. Y/N had gotten a peek at his schedule when she checked in and got her credentials to be able to come and go as she pleased. He would be in the green room now, or at least on his way there. So that’s where she headed.

Y/N stalled once she reached the green room door, deciding that maybe just barging in and demanding he talk to her was a bad idea. That’s when the pacing started again and continued for several minutes. She bit on her lower lip and closed her eyes, hanging her head and trying to decide what to do.

She continued walking, but with her eyes closed, she didn’t realize she was walking off her pattern, and straight into oncoming people.

“Whoa there!”

Y/N looked up, and in horrific slow motion, realized she ran square into Jensen’s chest. His hands had gently grabbed her shoulders when they collided, and they lingered there now as recognition touched his features one by one. Seeing him again after so long felt like a shock to her system; her mouth went dry, and she could feel her hands starting to tremble. When she tried to swallow, it stuck like a lump in her throat cutting off the air to her brain and making her feel light headed.

“H-Hey,” she breathed.

“Robbie said you were gonna be here,” he said, then nervously ran his tongue out and over his bottom lip. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, still unsure of what to say. “How’ve you been?” Her words were hesitant and staggered; her gaze unable to break from his.

Jensen finally realized his hands were still on her shoulders and quickly let go.

“Good. Busy, but good. You?”

“Better now that--”

The green room door opened with a bang, startling both Jensen and Y/N. Half a dozen people funneled out, mostly hotel staff, but Robbie was among them.

“Just who I was looking for!” he exclaimed and walked over to them. “You,” he said pointing to Jensen, “have about two minutes before Rich is gonna call you up for your panel with Misha. And you,” he turned to Y/N, “need to come with me while I got a quick ten minutes and figure out where we are going tonight if there’s time. There are a few clubs we gotta hit between tonight and tomorrow.”

“Can you just give us a minute, Rob?” Jensen asked him, and yet, his eyes still didn’t waver from Y/N’s gaze.  

“Uh, sure. I’ll be right over there, Y/N.” He looked hesitantly between them, and quietly stepped back and around the corner.

Jensen cleared his throat and turned back to her, unable to disguise just how nervous he was. “About what happened… I wanna, I mean, we should talk, but I do gotta go right now--”

“Right, of course,“ she said, taking a step back from him and suddenly scared to say what she wanted to. “We can do it another time.”

“Later, you’re scouting bands tonight with Rob? Sounds fun. Maybe if you’re not back too late--”

“Mr. Ackles!”

A small blonde haired woman popped her head from around the other end of the hallway and waved frantically for him to come.

“I gotta run,” he said but took a beat to hold her gaze a little longer. It took the impatient little woman at the end of the hallway calling him again, to get his feet moving.

Jensen took a few steps in the direction he had to go, then turned to face her as he walked backward down the corridor. He chuckled nervously and Y/N felt a rush of relief when she realized he seemed truly happy to see her.

“Don’t go far, okay? The panel only lasts about an hour. Maybe we could talk after?  I’d really like too--”

“Jensen, please, the panel is starting!” The woman was pleading with him now.

“I’ll be around, Hollywood. Come find me,” she shrugged, trying to be calm, cool and casual. Y/N held back as best she could, but Jensen got the idea that she was happy to see him, too.

“You got it, Trix. I’ll come to find you.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, and as he continued to walk away from her, Y/N could hear his happy chuckle fade down the hallway. Just before he turned and disappeared completely, he paused and gave Y/N a wink before heading off to his panel.

When he had disappeared around the far corner, she sighed heavily and laughed to herself, completely overcome with relief. A moment later she heard Robbie walk up behind her and clear his throat.

“Everything go ok?” he asked hesitantly.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah,” she said and did her best to stow the overwhelming relief she had over that encounter with Jensen. “I think we’ll be good.”

“Good,” Robbie said and slung his arm over her shoulders. “Now, let’s talk about the weekend, shall we?” He turned her around and guided her in the opposite direction.

The panel, one that he normally loved doing, felt like an eternity on that particular Saturday afternoon. Jensen and Misha answered questions, engaged in their usual banter, and of course, made a room of hundreds of people scream and laugh with delight. He did his best to maintain his normal energetic vibe, but even Misha could see that his mind just wasn’t in the game.

Instead, Jensen’s mind was firmly stuck on Y/N.

She was there, in the same city, in the same hotel just a few hundred feet away. All he wanted to do was go and see her, talk to her, hash this dumb shit out that made them lose three months of getting closer; three months of seeing her smile, hearing her voice and getting to know more about her.

Jensen was pissed at himself for weeks after New Year’s Day. Regardless of whether he had the right to be upset at her or not, he reverted to his petty and childish demeanor, where women were concerned, and he beat himself up for it. His knee jerk reaction to her running out had everything to do with Dee, and not so much Y/N herself. He needed to tell her that’s why he lied about something so stupid to avoid her. Y/N would understand… that’s what made her different.

Y/N had made the effort, hadn’t she? She came to leave the envelope, and in it was her plea to talk to him. She wanted to explain herself, but at that moment he just couldn’t let her. Then she ran back to New Jersey so fast, which initially made him angry. But it didn’t take him long to realize that she’d been through just as much bullshit with her past as he had, and instead of being angry, he should try and sympathize.

Weeks later he happened to talk to Rob who’d mentioned in passing that he had a FaceTime call with Y/N. It had been in the middle of the snowstorm towards the end of January that she told Rob she would be coming back to Austin. That wasn’t all though, was it? As Jensen sat on the panel stage, and half listened to Misha tell a story about his daughter that made the crowd roar with laughter, he was thinking about the guy hanging out with Y/N while she was home; the one Robbie saw in the background that day. As if on cue, he laughed at Misha’s story, joining in with the rest of the ballroom, but on the inside, he was simmering with jealousy.

Jensen wondered if that was the same “old friend” that showed up at her place on Christmas, and of course, couldn’t help but be curious if that guy was part of why she’d run out on him. Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat, he continued on with his Q&A with the fans and tried to forget it for the time being.

Finally, the panel had come to an end, with it also being their last panel of the day. Misha was escorted to his last set of photo ops, while Jensen was able to head back to the green room, hoping that he would once again bump into Y/N.

The hallway where he had left her was now empty, as was the green room. He considered calling her and asking where she was, but instead texted Rob and asked if they were still together.

<<Hey man, is Y/N still with you?

>>Nah, she went to check a few places out while it was still light out. She’ll be back for SNS.

Jensen sighed and sent back a quick reply, then tucked his phone away and headed back to his own room to get ready for that night’s concert.

Louden Swain took the stage around nine that night. They played through a few of their originals, and then a handful of covers with some of the cast. Jensen knew he’d go up for a couple of songs, but he was holding out until the end so he could catch Y/N.

“Hey handsome,” Bri greeted, coming up alongside where Jensen was sitting, startling him out of his thoughts. “How’d your day go today?”

“Great,” he said with a tired smile. “Long day though. How about you?”

“Oh you know, fantastic. Kim and I kicked ass. Had some great ops… a cocktail or two in between. You know, the usual.”

“That’s my girl,” he teased and then perked up thinking she could help him. “Any chance you’ve seen Y/N around?”

“Yes! Earlier today when she first came in, then about five minutes ago. She’ll be here in a second, why? Got something you need to say to her? Hmmmm?” Bri raised one perfectly manicured brow at him, challenging him to open up a bit more.

“Yes. Actually, I do.”

“Good boy. I know she wants to talk to you too--” From the stage, Bri heard her cue to go up with Robbie for her song. “Look, she’s around. Talk. To. Her. Then, keep her close, I’m gonna need her.” She wiggled her brows and stuck her tongue out playfully before bounding up the short set of steps that would take her backstage.

Jensen chuckled as she disappeared behind the curtain and out to the roar of applause from the crowd. He tried to think of what he would be doing that night with the band. Jason was playing too, and they talked about The Joker and maybe Whipping Post. He closed his eyes and ran through both songs, half hearing Robbie and Bri singing “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” coming from the stage. He certainly didn’t hear Y/N and she came from around the corner and stood in front of him.

“Hey stranger,” she said softly. Despite the music coming from close behind him, he heard her perfectly.

Jensen opened his eyes and thought maybe he was just imagining her there. She looked different than she had earlier. Gone was her T-shirt and ripped jeans, a look that he really loved on her. Now she wore the tight blue jeans and knee-high boots with a black and white, long sleeve peasant-style blouse that was loosely tied at the neck and open enough to accentuate her cleavage. Jensen had a split-second thought about what she had on beneath it before he was able to make himself speak again.

“Hey yourself,” he breathed, standing up from the platform he was sitting on. “How’s your, uh, you know, how’s it--”

“I’m good, Jay. Robbie asked me to come back for the concert. Glad you stuck around. Are you going up there tonight?”

Jensen nodded, suddenly tongue-tied and unsure of what to say.

“They sound great,” Y/N motioned towards the stage and took a few steps closer. “That’s a great song.”

“It is,” he said, but needed to say more and was tired of waiting. “Y/N,” he paused and waited for her to face him. She did, and he could tell she knew what he was about to say. “About New Year’s…”

“Jay, wait. Before you say anything… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for running away like I did. I shouldn’t have--”

“It's okay. I shouldn’t have lied about the stupid movie. It was all so…”

“Stupid?”

“Childish. I guess I could give you a laundry list of reasons--”

“But they wouldn’t matter,” she said quietly and cast her gaze down to her feet. When she looked up at him again, he saw something in her face that made him relax and understand she wanted to move on as badly as he did.

“Yeah. Can we just,” he sighed and shrugged, “just get back to being friends?”

“Yes. I want that, more than anything,” she sighed in relief.

“Good,” he breathed and took a hesitant step closer to her. Y/N stepped in and put her arms around his neck to hug him. Though it took him by surprise, he didn’t waste a second in returning the embrace. She felt so good in his arms as they snaked their way around her waist. It took a lot of willpower on his part to stop himself from nuzzling his face into her neck and drawing in a deep breath of her scent.

From the stage, the music shifted and while the band kept playing, Bri popped her head through the curtain and saw Y/N with Jensen.

“Hate to break up this very much needed moment, but Y/N, I need you up here please.”

Jensen reluctantly released her and saw the scheming look in Briana’s eyes. He narrowed his gaze at her, and she just slyly winked. “Come on slowpoke! They’re waiting.”

“Who’s waiting?” she asked, looking curiously between Jensen and Bri.

“Everyone…” Bri replied and swept back the curtain so Y/N could see the audience.

“What? Oh no, I didn’t--I’m not--”

“You are, and you can. Come on, lady! Time to get your cute little ass up here and sing on stage with me and Robbie.”

Y/N looked to Jensen to save her, but he just shook his head. “Oh no, I’m with Bri on this one. Like I’d ever pass up a chance to watch you on stage.”

Realizing she was being ganged up on, Y/N sighed as her chin fell to her chest in defeat and she made her way up the small set of stairs. “I hate you both,” she chided and both Bri and Jensen rolled their eyes.

Jensen watched from backstage as she got up next to Robbie who was on the mic and introduced Y/N to the crowd. When he spoke about the Brewfest the crowd cheered, and it was the first time Jensen understood just how much work she’d been putting into it, not just into organizing things, but getting the word out to the public about the upcoming event.

Robbie leaned over and whispered something in her ear, Y/N nodded and faced the crowd, giving them a wave. Jensen saw how they seemed to love her already and they hadn’t even heard her sing yet. Robbie faced the band and signaled the next song as the familiar beat of Heart’s “What About Love” kicked in.

Y/N started to sing, and Jensen felt his knees go weak. It had been a while, too long he would say if someone had asked him since he had heard her sing. She fell right into the groove with the band, completely unaware of how sexy and majestic she was on the stage. Bri was beside her, sharing the verses and singing harmonies together. They blended effortlessly with Robbie’s voice, too. Y/N held the notes and used her strong bravado to carry them out, once again making the crowd go wild.

Hints of jealousy filled Jensen, but not because of the reaction she was garnering, but because he wasn’t on stage next to her. How could he have not sung with her yet? At least strummed a guitar while she sat across from him, her tender pitch humming along with whatever he was playing. It suddenly became of utmost importance to him to share a stage with her, but for now, he just hung back and relished in the way her voice made him feel. Anyone that saw him watching her would know that he was so clearly infatuated with this girl, and almost nothing would have pulled him away.  

As the song wound towards the end, Jason breezed past Jensen, smacking his shoulder along the way.

“Almost ready, brother? Gonna kick it off with ‘The Joker’, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Just like we said, call me in when you’re ready.”

“You got it!” Jason replied before running out on the stage.

Jason handled the first chorus, and during the musical interlude, he brought Jensen up and he easily slipped into the version of himself he brought out on the Saturday Night Specials. He noticed that Briana and Y/N were still up there, yet off towards stage right, and singing along with the chorus of the song. Jensen casually strolled in their direction, just feeling the need to be as close to Y/N as possible. The moment the music came back around to where he picked up the song, happened to be the same moment that Jensen walked around behind her, then was at her side. Without giving it a second thought, he draped his arm around her shoulders and sang the lines directly to her… their eyes locked as if he was speaking solely to Y/N and not to a room of hundreds of people.

“You’re the cutest thing I ever did see…

Really love your peaches wanna shake your tree

Lovey-dovey lovey-dovey lovey-dovey all the time...

Oooey baby I sure show you a good time…”

The song played on, and eventually, he moved back across the stage and sang out to the crowd. But the expression that came to rest on her face was not something he would ever forget. He caught glimpses of her smiling as her eyes followed across the stage. He liked how it felt for her to watch him; he felt uninhibited and free to be himself.

When it was over, he was disappointed as Bri grabbed Y/N’s hand now that their turn on stage was done. They waved to the audience and the band transitioned into “Whipping Post” while they exited through the back.

As Jensen belted out line after line of The Allman Brothers song, he wished Y/N had stayed out there with them and secretly hoped she was watching from backstage. Thank God he was singing a song he knew without having to think about because all his mind could really focus on was how good it felt to have her back around. At that moment, Jensen had felt better than he had in a very long time. 

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[crashdevlin]

Plus One

Author’s Note: Written for @spnfanficpond Galentine’s Day for @coffee-obsessed-writer It’s a day early, girl, so treat yo self

Also written for @spnkinkbingo, filling my Meet Cute square

Summary: When y/n is forced to learn to dance for her ex’s wedding, she meets a certain green-eyed man whose brother thinks he doesn’t have any rhythm.

Pairing(s): Dean X bisexual!Reader, Past OFC x Reader

Word Count: 4772

Warnings: ballroom dancing, fluffiness, bad flirting, little bit of dirty talk, 18+ HERE BE SEX DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!  protected sex, oral sex (fem rec), fingering,

Wanna enhance your fanfic experience? Get Dean’s hydrosol from @scentsfromthebunker

You grimaced as you walked into the large open room with the mirrored walls. You were the only one in the room below the age of sixty. You didn’t want to be there. You wanted to walk out, entry fee be damned, but you had to learn or you were going to make a fool of yourself. Probably do that, anyway.

You sat on a bench in the far corner and waited for the instructor to show up. You were picking at your cuticles when the door opened and the most handsome man you’d ever seen walked in. You thought he might be the instructor for a moment, as he was about your age which put him a good twenty years younger than anyone else taking the class, but he surveyed the room and then moved to lean against the non-mirrored wall near the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and you couldn’t help but notice the way his biceps bulged under his plain black tee. Your eyes flicked to his left hand and you were happy to see there wasn’t a ring there, but you didn’t let your hopes up. He could be here to learn for his wedding.

The instructor was a woman who must’ve been in her seventies and she looked like she’d smell like the inside of a craft store. When she told everyone to pair up, the handsome man made a beeline for you, which made you smile. “You already got a dance partner, sweetheart?” His voice was deep, his eyes a brilliant green and you found yourself frozen for a moment as you wondered how this man was a real human being.

“Uh, no. I’m a solo.”

“Not anymore, you’re not. I’m Dean.” He offered you his hand, which seemed huge.

“Y/n,” you said, standing and taking the hand. Yeah, it was huge and you could feel calluses on his fingertips when they brushed your wrist.

“Go ahead and take a few minutes to get to know your partners. We’ll start on basics of stance in five minutes,” Mrs. Philips said.

You smiled, nervously, up at Dean. “So, we, uh, appear to be on the younger end of the spectrum in this classroom.”

“Well, thanks for sayin’ I look young.” He flashed a brilliant smile full of perfect teeth. “So, y/n, what brings you to an intro ballroom dance class?”

You really liked the sound of your name on his lips. “You first, Dean.”

He chuckled, hands going into his pants pockets. “My brother’s taking an introductory painting class with our… with this kid we take care of. He saw they were offering the dance course and signed me up without asking me, because he says that I have no rhythm.” He shook his head like he disagreed. “Your turn, y/n.”

You stalled for a minute, wondering if you should be completely honest with the stranger or alter it to avoid issue. The earnest look on his face made you decide on honesty. “My ex-girlfriend is getting married next month.”

You could swear his face fell a little at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah, and I was the complete idiot who made good on the whole ‘We can still be friends’ part of the breakup, so I'm now Bridesmaid Number Three and she's made it clear that I'm expected to participate in all aspects of the wedding, including this ridiculous and awkward choreographed ballroom dance between the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Guess she forgot that I can't dance.”

Dean scoffed. “Wow. Sounds like a high-maintenance bitch.”

You laughed. “Yeah, well, the guy she cheated on me with is a major league asshole, so they're a match made in Hell.”

Questions filled Dean's green eyes. “Oh, so she's not a-”

You cut him off before he could say the ‘L’ word. “Nah. Unapologetic bisexuals, the both of us. Just, one of us thought they needed to have a girlfriend and a boyfriend and the other knew what ‘exclusive’ means.”

“Wow. If you don't mind me asking, why are you still friends with this bitch? I'd’ve cut her off a long time ago.”

You shrugged, looking past Dean to Mrs. Phillips, who was doing the rounds meeting the new students. “Started out that I genuinely didn't want to lose her and now it's more obligation. The LGBT community here in Kansas is a little exclusionary. They tend to ignore anything beyond the first two letters.”

“Didn’t know there was so much gatekeeping around that shit. Learn something new every day,” he said, smirking. “And you'd think they'd know about the Kinsey Scale.”

You laughed. “Not what I was expecting you to say.”

“Good evening! I'm Mrs. Phillips, what are your names, dears?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Well, welcome, welcome, we'll be starting momentarily.”

Dean watched as the woman walked away before turning back to you. “She smell like cinnamon sticks and moth balls, to you?”

You snickered under your breath. “It's weird because that's exactly what she looks like she smells like!”

You enjoyed easy conversation with the man… until it came time to embrace and work on your positioning. He took your right hand in his left and set his right hand on your back, just under your shoulder blade. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried to look away from him, but his green eyes kept calling to you. There was no conversation after that. You were little better than mute for the entirety of the time his hands were on you.

When the class ended, he smiled as he stepped back from you. “Will you be here on Thursday?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. I’ll try to be here, too. Wouldn’t wanna leave you without a partner.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks, every Monday and Thursday was spent in deep anticipation of the night class. Dean had only missed one class, the third Thursday, and he’d showed up on Monday with a face full of healing bruises and an apology on those full lips.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean. I mean, you obviously had some sort of accident… or maybe you got in a bar fight?” you asked, gesturing at his face.

He laughed. “Uh, yeah, something like that. I still wanted to be here, though.”

You smiled as you took up a waltz with him. “Your brother’s wrong, by the way. You’ve got all kinds of rhythm.”

“Ah, I’m glad he was wrong in this instance. Never woulda met you if he hadn’t signed me up.”

“This might be…” You looked down, blushing. You couldn’t ask this question if you were looking in those damn eyes. “This might be a big ask, but did you maybe want to be my Plus One for Debbie’s wedding?”

“When is it?”

You ventured a look at his face. He was smiling and it made you bite your lip. “Valentine’s Day. How cliche, right?”

“Sure, I’d love to be your Valentine,” he said with a cocky smirk.

“You got a suit to wear? ‘Cause as much as I love the plaid look, I think Deb would probably throw a fit if someone showed up in something less than her rigorous dress code.”

“Have I mentioned that your ex sounds like a high-maintenance bitch?” he asked with a chuckle. “Yeah, I got a few suits. Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll have to give you my number after class, so we can coordinate. Where’s the wedding?”

“Kansas City. Not too far.”

“That’s good. ‘Cause I don’t fly and if it were a destination thing, we’d have to plan some extra travel time.”

You smiled. “You’re afraid of airplanes?”

“They’re flying deathtraps. I don’t know why everybody is so shocked when I say I’m scared of ‘em.”

You looked up into his bruised and battered face. “Because you aren’t afraid of whatever did that to your face? You’re big and strong and don’t seem like the type to piss his pants over being stuck in a metal tube 30,000 feet… you know what, that does sound scary.”

He smirked. “See? S’why I drive every damn place.” He adjusted his grip on your hand. “You think I’m big and strong?”

“And funny and handsome and oh, my god, I’m totally not flirting with you, I promise,” you said, your cheeks heating up as you looked down.

“Well, if you were, you’d be doing okay at it.”

You bit your lip and looked up again. He really was unnaturally handsome, even covered in bruises. “Is that face gonna be healed before Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah. I got a friend who used to be a faith healer. He can get rid of these like magic.”

You laughed. “He used to be a faith healer?”

“Yeah. Other stuff became more important, but he still pulls out the mojo for me and my brother and Jack. The family, ya know?” He laughed. “You look so skeptical!”

“Look, this might be the Bible Belt, Dean, but not everyone believes so deeply.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the difference here. I know what Cas does works. Anyway… you don’t have to worry about it, y/n. I’ll be handsome again by Valentine’s,” he said with a wink that made you shiver.

“It’s completely unfair, Dean Winchester, that you’re so handsome while black and blue.”

“Oh, am I?” He smirked at you as you lost your footing and he had to shuffle not to step on you.

“Yes, you are. Distractingly so.”

“Well, you’ll have to work on that unless you wanna make an ass of yourself at Debbie’s wedding.”

You laughed. “Well, either way I win, Dean, because my date to her wedding is gonna be a lot hotter than hers.”

He laughed again and everything seemed a little bit brighter in the wake of that sound.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Dean met at the cheap motel you’d agreed to stay in. Rooms 14 and 15 to make things easy on the both of you. You spent two hours on your hair, another ninety minutes on your makeup. You could hear Dean watching what sounded like Scooby Doo in his room, yelling at Fred for being a ‘cheating douchebag’.

When you stepped out of the room in your lavender bridesmaid dress, you felt awkward and anxious. For some reason, it felt like you were going to your first school dance or something. Taking Dean to this wedding seemed to regress you back a couple decades. You knocked on his door, heard the television turn off as he got up to greet you. You gasped when the door opened to reveal him.

He was wearing a dark grey suit with a shiny patterned grey tie. He had a long black coat over it and he had his hair gelled up. He looked amazing. “Wow,” you both said, simultaneously, then both smiled a bit nervously.

“Purple is definitely a good color on you, sweetheart,” he continued, letting his eyes run down your body.

You chuckled, smoothing your hand down the front of the dress. “It’s technically ‘lavender’. She was very specific on the color of purple. But… thank you. You look breathtaking, as always.”

“I take your breath away?”

“Why do you always make me question what comes out of my mouth?” you asked, shaking your head as he stepped out of the room and secured the door behind him. “I’m certain that I’m not saying anything bad but then you smirk and you make it seem like I’m flirting poorly and you think that’s hilarious.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s hilarious. I think it’s adorable,” he said, opening the passenger side door of his Chevy and helping you in.

He drove you to the wedding venue, a hotel with a beautiful outdoor area specifically designed for weddings. You were certain it was extremely expensive. Debbie was screaming in the bridal suite. You could hear it as you approached. You sighed, turning to Dean. “You should go get a seat. Hope your phone is fully charged. We’re probably gonna be a while.”

He nodded, pulling his headphones and cell phone out of his coat pocket. “Good luck with Bridezilla.”

Debbie was screaming about bobby pins. Apparently, whoever brought the pins had brought blond ones, not brown ones. It was a huge deal. As was the fact that there was only Diet Coke, not regular, and that there weren’t any electrical outlets next to the plush chair she wanted to sit in while she got her hair done. You found yourself wondering what you saw in that woman as you retrieved an extension cord and plugged a power strip into it.

“So, who’s your date? Did you bring a date? Because you’re paying for the steak plate if you RSVP’d for someone who doesn’t exist,” she bitched as the stylist pulled at her hair.

“He exists. He’s outside right now. And he wants some damn steak.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Dean. I met him at the Rec Center in Lebanon.”

“And? What do you know about him?”

“About as much as you knew about Spencer when you started dating him. I know his name, I know his brother’s name, I know the name of the orphan they adopted when the kid's mother died, I know his best friend's name is Cas. I know he thinks he's funny but his brother thinks he's an idiot.” You shrugged. “I can learn more as the time goes.”

“You barely even know him and you brought him to my wedding?!”

“You barely even knew Spence when you left me for him, so…”

“Oh, don't even start this on my wedding day!”

“You started it,” you argued. “Look, I'm not trying to start a fight with you. Just don't judge Dean when you haven't even met him.”

“He better be amazing.”

That you managed to make it through Debbie getting ready to walk down the aisle without you or one of the other bridesmaids bashing her over the head with that vase of long-stemmed roses she kept bragging about, was a miracle. You were beyond relieved when it came time to grab your small bouquet of tiny purple daisies and walk the aisle. You smiled at Dean as you passed him, and he pulled his headphones and gave a small wave.

“Whoa. That's your date?” the Maid of Honor, Brittany, whispered. “I gotta hang out at the Rec Center more often. Wow!”

“You said he has a brother?” the other bridesmaid, Amber, asked.

“Yeah, but I haven't met him, yet. He might be a troll. I don't know. I'll let you know.”

The groomsmen looked all right in their black tuxes, but your eyes kept gravitating toward Dean in his suit. Even as the crowd turned to watch Debbie walk down the aisle in her dress with the mile-long train, her breasts on display with her sweetheart bodice, your eyes were stuck on him… and he was looking at you. “Well, damn, looks like we might be at another wedding this time next year. Someone’s givin’ you the moon eyes,” Amber said.

“Shut up,” you whispered, fiercely. Debbie was halfway down the aisle, if she heard anyone talking about anything other than her on her big day, she’d flip out. You zoned out when Debbie got to the altar. Spencer’s vows were ripped off from Cory from Boy Meets World and you seemed to be the only one who noticed. Debbie’s vows boiled down to ‘you made my life better with all the stuff you’ve given me’ and you had to literally fight back a yawn. When they kissed, you gave a little golf clap. “Can we eat now?” you whispered as the newlyweds ran down the aisle toward the reception hall together, laughing happily.

“Pictures,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes. “Then food. I gotta go help.”

Dean approached as you followed Brittany toward the reception hall. “Well, that was…”

“You don’t have to say it, Dean.”

“You know the groom stole his vows from a TGI Friday show, right?”

You snorted. “I thought I was the only one who noticed!”

“As soon as he said, ‘Ever since I was young, I never understood anything about the world’ I knew it. I used to watch the hell outta some Boy Meets World. Topanga was hot as fuck.”

“She still is! Did you see the sequel series they did? About the Matthews kids? She’s still super hot. Lawyer-milf in a skirt suit, yes please.” Dean put his arm around your shoulders as you followed a line toward the reception. You liked the warmth and leaned into him. “So, she’s gonna do her sunset pictures with Cory Matthews and then they’re going to do their first dance. Then there’s the first round of toasts, gonna be from Debbie and from Spencer’s dad. Then we get to eat. I’m starving.”

“You should’ve said. I’ve got a bag of M&M’s in my pocket.”

“Thanks, but we’ve got steak waiting for us.”

“And when do you gotta dance? And which one of those douchebags do you have to dance with?”

“After dinner and after Brittany and Mark do their toasts. Instead of the usual Daddy/Daughter dance, Debbie decided that the bridal party need to dance, instead. So, I get to dance with Jeff. Jeff’s the one that looks like Shaggy.”

“Oh, the goateed one.” You nodded. “Okay. Well, when they open the dance floor up, you and me can show ‘em what Mrs. Phillips has taught us.”

You laughed as he pulled away to pull out your seat at the round table closest to the long high-set table that Debbie, Spencer, Mark, Brittany and Spencer’s parents were going to be sitting. “If they play anymore waltzes after we get done with the Maids and Men dance, I’ll definitely show off with you, Dean,” you said as he pushed your chair in for you.

“I’m gonna request it,” he teased, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Oh, hush.” You leaned your head on his shoulder as the rest of the wedding guests poured into the hall and took their places at their designated tables. About fifteen minutes later, Debbie and Spencer entered. They immediately went into their first dance, two minutes of ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri. “A song from Twilight. Really?” you whispered to Dean who chuckled.

“Why do you know that song is from Twilight?”

“Because Debbie’s Team Jacob and it was impossible to avoid when we were dating. I know things about that series I never wanted to know,” you answered, watching Debbie try to dance with that train behind her. Spencer tripped on it twice in the two minute song.

The welcome toasts were mostly just Debbie patting herself on the back for being so beautiful and getting a man who could pay for the wedding she always wanted and Spencer patting himself on the back for marrying a chick as ‘freaky’ as Debbie. The steak was well-done, because obviously no one knows how to cook a damn steak, and the baked potato was wrinkly and dry.

But Dean made things better. He joked through the dinner, kept his arm across the back of your chair so that you knew he was there, and gave quiet commentary as Mark and Brittany gave their toasts. He gave rapt attention as the bridesmaids and groomsmen all stood and walked to the middle of the dance floor. You matched up with Jeff, took your stance and waited for the music. You were nervous but as soon as ‘Once Upon a December’ came on, you let your mind go back to Dean holding you as the crazy old lady taught you how to dance.

Jeff was supposed to lead, but you ended up leading him around the dance floor and two and a half minutes later, all three bridesmaids were folded on the floor in an artful dance pose. You hated it, but you smiled at Debbie’s guests and let Jeff help you up. “That was…” Dean started as you sat down. He looked around before leaning closer to you. “Pretentious bullshit. Debbie choreograph that?”

You nodded, chuckling. “She’s a big Disnerd. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Anastasia isn’t Disney,” you whispered as Debbie and Spencer got up to cut the cake. They smashed the pastry into each other’s mouths, then Debbie demanded all the single women to line up behind her for the bouquet toss. You rolled your eyes and went to the back of the crowd. After the pushing and shoving was done and one of Debbie’s twice-divorced aunts had the bouquet in her hands, they opened the dance floor and the DJ turned on some pop music.

You were bouncing happily to some P!NK song when Dean approached with a drink from the bar and handed it to you. “You look like you need a little social lubrication.” You sniffed at the plastic cup and raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s a screwdriver. Who doesn’t like vodka and orange juice?” You laughed and took a drink. “And when the DJ plays my request, we’ll need you a little loose.”

“What request?”

“You’ll see.”

Another four songs of pop and old R&B and an old rock song came on. Dean smiled brightly. “What is this?” you asked as he pulled you from the edge of the dance floor to the middle of it.

“Kashmir. It’s got three-four time,” he explained, wrapping his arm around you and taking your hand in his.

“The drums are in four-four, though.”

“Just listen to the guitar, then.” As Led Zeppelin played, you didn’t listen much. You focused on letting your body be led by his, the way he held you to him and spun you around the dance floor. You focused on his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled as brightly as he was smiling. You focused on those perfect teeth in that smile and the freckles across his cheekbones and, as the song came to the instrumental outro, you focused on those full pink lips crashing into yours.

You dropped his hand, slipping your hands up around his neck to pull him down further into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around you to pull your body harder against his. “Dean,” you whispered when you had to pull away to breathe. “My room or yours?”

“What, Debbie doesn’t have some grand exit planned that you’ve gotta be here for?”

You laughed. “She can run to the limo with one less sparkler lighting her way. She’s a high-maintenance bitch. Get me out of here.”

“Gladly,” he said, grabbing your hand and running for the exit. You were laughing as you swiped your purse off the table on your way out, ignoring the looks from Debbie, Brittany and several of the other guests. You were sure you’d never see most of them again.

Your phone was going off with texts before you even made it to the interstate, Debbie admonishing you for leaving, Brittany cheering you on and Amber just letting you know that Debbie was livid. You left your phone in your purple clutch purse on the seat of his car as he guided you toward his room. “I've got condoms in my bag,” he said, pushing his door open and pulling you in with him.

He made a beeline for his duffel bag and you admired the swell of his ass as he bent over. He pulled out a box of Trojans and set it on the side table as he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at you. “As good as you look in that dress, y/n, why don't you go ahead and take it off.”

“You first, Dean,” you responded with a smile.

He smirked and stood, pulling his suit jacket off and tossing it at the chair in the corner. His hands went to his tie next, loosening it and pulling it off. As he started unbuttoning his shirt, you got impatient, moving forward and grabbing his belt. He kept removing his shirt, throwing it at the chair and missing as you pulled the button on his slacks. He grabbed your wrists to stop you as you went to unzip his zipper. “Your turn, y/n,” he said as he toed his shoes off. You reached to your right side and pulled your zipper down, letting the dress drop to your feet. “Damn. I’ve been waiting for this since I walked into Mrs. Phillips’ class. Worth the wait.” He dropped his slacks and boxers to the floor at his feet.

You pulled your bra off, tossing it across the room and eagerly slipping your panties down your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth and sliding against his. He grasped your hips and pulled you against him as he fell to the bed. The give-and-take, the taking turns, ended there as Dean took complete control of the situation. His hands groped their way down your body, learning where you were most sensitive and following his hands with his mouth to seek those places out.

To call Dean an enthusiastic lover would be an understatement. You had never had someone so attentive, giving off happy moans as he licked at your folds, praising the taste of you and making sure every move he made was well-received. Your orgasm was a slow build of two of his fingers fucking in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your clit lazily. He was taking his time, not racing to your finish line like every other lover you'd had. When you came, it wasn't an explosion or a tsunami, it was a succession of small waves of pleasure crashing into your nerves one after another until your breath was forced from your lungs.

“Dean,” you called, breathlessly beckoning him up from between your thighs. He crawled up your body, licking his lips. “Fuck me. I want to feel you inside me.”

He smirked as he reached over and grabbed a condom, tearing the foil open and quickly rolling the latex down his length. He pressed his lips to yours as he slotted himself between your legs again. He notched the head of his cock at your entrance and let out a deep groan as he slid in to the base of him. “Jesus, woman. You're fucking tight.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. “Please move,” you whined.

He chuckled as he started to kiss along your jaw. “No patience, y/n?” he whispered in your ear.

“No. No time for patience. Fuck me, Dean. We've waited long enough.”

He slid his hips backward and eased in again, lazily, slowly, taking his time just as he had when he was eating you. “We got all the time in the world, sweetheart. I'm gonna make you cum ‘til you can't fucking move. Then I'm gonna get you back to Lebanon and I'm gonna fuck you some more.”

He started a slow rhythm, swiveling his hips and nibbling and licking at your neck. You met each movement of his hips, your heels in his back working as leverage. That is, until he pulled your legs free of his waist and pressed your knees up into your chest. When he picked up his speed, you squealed and squeezed your eyes closed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you rambled, almost chanting as he fucked you harder. “Dean, oh my god!”

“You almost there, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Y-you?” You opened your eyes and caught his lust-blown green ones.

“Yeah. Wanna get you there first, though.” He brought his right hand down to your hip and swept his thumb across your clit.

Your second orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, a guttural moan pulling from your throat as your vaginal walls clenched and fluttered around his cock. He managed another three thrusts before his hips stuttered and he slammed forward to the hilt, spilling into the condom. He captured your lips again, both of you panting in the afterglow. You both moaned as he pulled his softening cock out of you.

He tied the condom off and threw it in the waste bin before dropping to the bed next to you. You chuckled as you snuggled into his chest. “Your brother really is wrong about you.” You looked up at him with a smile. “You've got amazing rhythm.”

He chuckled and held you close. “Gimme some recovery time and we'll dance again, y/n.”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska

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[missiekatjie]

Marielle Cartier: Companion of Light

[[ This is a thing I’d been tooling with for a while, basically an “everyone lives” AU where Haurchefant and the Heaven’s Ward were spared their fates, ‘cause I love the Ward and think that they had so much potential for more story and content... only to be thrown away. I think this is more-or-less complete unless there are things folks want to see.

I put it under a read more for length! Note there’s violence ofc.]]

Haurchefant's shout of "Look out!" prompted the knight to shift her shield to her arm and to unsheath her sword. That wasn't his intention, and neither was it his intention to have her violently rebuke him, sending him sprawling to the ground with a very surprised and distressed expression.

She immediately whipped around to meet the danger shield-first.

When that spear of light struck the paladin's shield there was a flash that temporarily blinded those in the vicinity. It was not the impact that Ser Zephirin had expected, nor could he have predicted the result: his own strike being sent back at him. There was no time to get out of the way and the beam cut through him and his armour as if he were wearing paper.

Unbeknownst to the younger paladin's party, as soon as she'd reflected the Archimandrite's attack she'd bolted off to where she was certain he'd be. The man crashed to the stone beneath his perch as she arrived, and all he heard as he struggled to catch his breath was the tell-tale clank of armour. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe.

Memories from the past year played out in his mind's eye, from his promotion to the day he found out about the Paragons. His memories stopped soon after that, and as he finally managed to take a deep breath he found himself realizing that something horrible had happened. He'd been asleep, perhaps, and suddenly he was violently awake. Awake and dying. Dying. The realization hit Zephirin as he choked and vomited blood.

Marielle slipped her arm behind his back, supported his head against her shoulder, and sat him up partway. Zephirin couldn't understand what she was saying. His head was swimming, and when he dared to look down and he realized the extent of his injuries he felt his heart drop. He did not want to die. Not like this. His shoulders shook, and he raised his hand to the young woman that held him.

"Please," he rasped.

The Duskwight took hold of his hand. She squeezed, and whatever she said had a soothing quality to it. When she let go he let his hand drop, he felt suddenly so, so tired. Her other arm drew around him and she brought her head low, he heard her whisper in his ear, "Just a little longer, Ser Zephirin. You aren't going to die. I won't let you."

Haurchefant arrived just in time to watch the pair get enveloped in light. He heard Zephirin scream and he froze, sword and shield ready, uncertain. Marielle hadn't made a sound. When the light faded, both knights had fallen, and the Wildwood choked back a cry as he bolted for his prone companion.

"Marie!"

Though blood covered Zephirin there were no signs of his wounds. Marielle was unharmed. It took several moments for Haurchefant to reach that conclusion, and to pry her from the unconscious Ward Knight. He'd known for years that she looked up to Zephirin and his men, but he never thought she'd--

No. She didn't betray him or her other companions. She didn't betray anyone. This was just... her way of solving a problem.

As Haurchefant scooped up his friend he turned partway to call out, "One of you take the Archimandrite. They will both need medical attention. The rest of you, you know what to do!"

He didn't need to look up to know that the Archbishop had escaped, but he couldn't help but think that this was simply the beginning of something else.

---

Marielle awoke to find the blue-haired knight sitting by her side, elbows propped on his knees as he quietly waited for her to stir. She softly cleared her throat, which startled Haurchefant into looking at her. His expression brightened considerably and he was soon kneeling by her side, grasping her hand in both of his.

"Marielle, you finally come back to us! How do you feel? What happened?"

The duskwight knight slowly shook her head and asked, "Zephirin, is he alright?"

With a single nod Haurchefant confirmed, "Yes, though he is still unconscious. What... what happened? What did you do?" He squeezed her hand and leaned close, resting his forehead against hers, his voice lowered. "I genuinely feared I-- we had lost you, Marielle. I beg of you, do not do anything like that again."

She softly laughed and replied, "I wish I could promise you that. I... did as the paladins of old and I protected the innocent. ... Don't you try to get between danger and I ever again, by the way." She gave him a look and the other young night chuckled, shaking his head. He kissed her cheek, prompting Marielle to blink with surprise, and he quietly asked her again: "Please, what happened back there?"

"I don't entirely know," Marie admitted. She shifted a bit, gazing absently at how his hands engulfed hers, and all she could think about was the look on Zephirin's face and the terror in his eyes. She closed her eyes while she spoke. "My soulstone reminded me that I can reflect a lot of magic with the techniques I was taught, so I... tried it. I didn't expect to hit him, I didn't realize--"

Marie paused as she worked at regaining her composure, and then: "-- they're tempered, or brainwashed, or something. Every last one of them. It was as if, when I got to him, he was just waking up from a dream. He didn't know what had happened or where he was and-- Haurchefant, I can't let them all be slaughtered. I know that's what's going to happen. I cannot let those men die! What do you wish to bet that not a single one of them has any idea-- what do you want to bet that the first day they were brought into the fold was the last day they had free will?"

That caused Haurchefant to fall deathly quiet. It was his turn to absently gaze at how his hands engulfed hers, and when he looked to her face again he was surprised to see just how desperate she appeared. He knew she'd known some of those men before they'd become Knights of the Heaven's Ward. Guerrique had been among her most steadfast companions, and his sudden abandonment of their friendship had upset her greatly.

Perhaps this was the result of that heartache, Marielle seeking any possible reason for what had been happening.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then tried again. Gradually he managed to string together a sentence: "If this... is true, what do you intend to do? You cannot save eleven men against the wrath of all of your companions."

"I need to try," Marie quietly informed him, and she buried her face against the other knight's shoulder as he drew her into his embrace.

---

It was likely the inner fire of that young Knight of Ishgard that convinced her companions to see things her way.

Alberic, a Hyur Warrior a handful of years Marielle's senior, placed his hand on her shoulder as they paused on the approach to the Singularity Reactor. She glanced sidelong at him and offered a faint smile.

"You and Haurchefant are still going to try to take on the Ward themselves, are you?" He asked. "You're absolutely sure you want to try this?"

Marielle nodded. "I am," she replied. "I have to. I owe it to them not to give up on them. What sort of knight would I be if I simply abandoned my comrades to their doom? I cannot let them die, Alberic. I can't."

Though he wasn't fond of the men from their interactions with them, he couldn't fault her for wanting to save some of her own. People she'd known for years, in some cases, and people she'd admired. Even he knew that Marielle didn't have many left in her life, he just feared what would happen to her if everything failed.

---

Thordan had become a primal.

Alberic threw himself at the former Archbishop as Marielle and Haurchefant taunted the knights. It was Marie that sought the most punishment, who purposely needled and crashed into those she could while Haurchefant kept the others busy. Alberic's initial balking at the Fortemps' knight's participation had been soundly quashed by his paladin companion -- either the blue-haired knight had the Echo or Marie knew something he didn't.

The warrior stopped paying attention as the fight against Thordan heated up. What was not expected was how Marielle's power manifested during that battle, as if she had been blessed by Halone herself. Poor Haurchefant had to take a blow from another knight's shield before he could shake off his awe and return to the fray.

"Do not strike to kill," Marie shouted. "Disable them. Force them to turn!"

The Ward's mages were targeted first.

It was poor young Noudenet that dropped initially after being worn down and bashed around enough. He hit the floor, and Marielle guided the fight away from him as best she would, turning her shield next to Haumeric. Haurchefant found himself fending off the blades of both Adelphel and Janlenoux, and one of the party's other paladins drove back Ignasse and Hermenost from heading to Thordan's aid. As it was, Alberic's group was doing fairly well at whittling the man down.

When Haumeric finally fell under the concentrated onslaught of an empowered paladin and her entourage, the most troublesome of the knights -- other than Charibert -- turned their fury on her. Guerrique, Paulecrain, and Grinnaux were even more of a threat in their empowered forms. While Marielle held her ground she shouted for the former Inquisitor to be brought down -- quickly.

Neither Haurchefant nor the Roegadyn paladin that had aided him had a chance to intercept the mage. A wave of his hand and Thordan ripped the man's power from him to further strengthen himself. Charibert fell to one knee, and upon seeing the state of his comrades and the arena in which they fought, he rasped, "What in hellfire is happening here?"

He wasn't conscious for long. Suddenly it happened again: the remaining knights were robbed of their power and dropped, one by one, with Marie only pausing to catch Paulecrain before he could break his head open on the floor. Grinnaux had the fortune of falling on the Roegadyn monk, whose swearing at the sudden impact of Large Muscular Elezen against her back prompted the party's pair of Scholars to laugh at her expense.

"Cram it!" She snapped, and was soon bolting across the floor to deliver an uppercut to the Archbishop-turned-Primal.

Marielle and Haurchefant didn't join in that part of the fight. Together they worked at moving the knights away from the battle, and checking them over to make sure their wounds weren't too dire. As Marie examined Charibert, the mage's eyes suddenly snapped open and he snatched her wrist.

"Where--" he spat, "Where are we, what did you do to us!?"

The outburst didn't last and he sunk back to the floor, groaning. Marielle sighed and bent down to quietly speak close to his ear: "I'll explain everything later. Rest now. Thordan fucked you lot over."

Words he really never wanted to hear again.

---

Of the Ward Knights, it was the trio of troublemakers, Charibert, and the eldest knight, Vellguine, that were worst off. The entire lot was mostly kept under sedation while they were transported -- not to Ishgard, as Haurchefant had initially thought they would be, but to a large home on a private lot in Limsa’s Mist subdivisions.

Marielle’s memory of the entire battle was muddled, as if she wasn’t entirely herself when it was going on. This worried Alberic considerably. Yet, as he watched her tend to the men she’d fought tooth and nail to save, he realized that everything was going to be okay. The Duskwight knight was going to be fine.

Several days after the wounded men were set up in that sizeable Limsan estate, Alberic found himself standing in the basement where an infirmary of sorts had been set up. He was watching Marielle flit about the fellows’ cots, checking in and occasionally scurrying back to Zephirin to encourage him to just bloody rest. Zephirin was mostly able to be on his feet again, though he walked with some difficulty and he was still in great pain.

The hyur was startled by a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find Haurchefant smiling warmly at him. “Something on your mind, friend?” He asked, and Alberic grinned crookedly.

“Friend? Come on, now.”

The knight laughed. “Not now, no, that wouldn’t be proper,” and Alberic lightly shoved the man’s shoulder. Haurchefant’s manner turned a little more serious after a moment or so and he lowered his voice to address his companion.

“Marielle’s journey stops here,” he said. The hyur looked surprised.

“What do you mean? Is she not going to continue on with us?”

Haurchefant shook his head. “She feels the men of the Ward need her. She has pledged herself to their protection, she’s quite certain they’ll need it until they’re well again -- especially if Thordan’s state gets out.”

“I won’t let it,” Alberic’s response was sudden. The elezen smiled warmly.

“You know how this sort of thing goes. As soon as a rumour starts, the people will cling to it and spread it about, it’s what they do. She’s simply not meant to be part of the greater narrative of the great Warrior of Light and his companions, that is all.”

The hyur frowned and glanced off toward the Duskwight woman. “I can’t fault her,” he finally said. “Leaving her behind is going to hurt.”

Haurchefant’s voice was soft when he replied, “I know. It will be difficult for me as well, but we can and will come back to see her.” There was a sparkle in his eye that Alberic knew all too well, and he could feel the heat of his blushing spread down his neck. Haurchefant’s response was a sweet smile as he asked, “Is something the matter?”

“I know exactly what you actually mean by that and it’s way too early after a rough battle to be thinking with your dick,” Alberic said. The elezen’s laughter was almost musical; he flung an arm around the hyur’s shoulders and whispered something in his ear.

Something that made the poor man’s eyes go wide as saucers before he elbowed the laughing Fortemps knight. The pair disappeared from the room soon after, leaving Marielle to her own devices for that moment -- and giving them some time to themselves.

---

Marielle would not join the Warrior of Light in the battles to come. She would not stand with him on the battlefield against the Empire to free Ala Mhigo, nor would she be there with him to face down Zenos yae Galvus.

Oh, but Haurchefant would be. He would stand by Alberic in her stead, and when the pair would return to Mist to visit, they would have all sorts of stories for the young knight: tales of triumph and loss, of distant lands and grand accomplishments. They would tell her of the Garlean Prince whose power even made the Warrior of Light falter, and they would tell her of the Doman Prince, too -- perhaps in the hopes of getting her to accompany them once more, even for a little while.

But, as far as she was concerned, her place was that estate with those men.

The Knights of the Heaven’s Ward had a stalwart defender in the former Companion. Zephirin himself was quite the handful: he felt himself responsible for the fate of his men, though he never had the chance to rise against their captor. He was tempered earlier than he’d realized.

Most of the Knights seemed to adapt to civilian life, with the oldest of them being quite happy to retire, and the youngest being keen to pursue new opportunities. Marielle would have her hands full between Grinnaux, Paulecrain, and Guerrique, with each of those knights believing she needed to spend more time relaxing and less time worrying about them. They were, after all, grown men.

They would all fade away into the history of the world and become as fallen heroes who, when all seemed lost, were given one final chance at life by an agent of Halone Herself.

Even Charibert could accept that ending to their story.

[idonia-dovahkiin]

Starting With A Kiss Meant To Be Gentle, Ending Up In Passion, for your choice of pairing!

Another request for a prompt list!? I’m positively giddy! This comes from @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms’ Prompt List; #70.If you don’t mind, this prompt will be for DA2′s Cullen and my OFC Juliet. I hope you enjoy reading it. It’s a type of…AU to my fanfiction “Sunflowers of Kirkwall.” 

 Be careful, the phrase was a constant reminder whenever Juliet stepped foot outside. Be careful not to anger that magister; be careful when speaking to a trader; be careful of whom you call friend; be careful of how you use or conceal your magic; but, above all else, she must be careful around Templars. An old friend once told her, Those Southern brutes could taste magic in the air.

It all seems so long ago now.

“You aren’t nearly as careful as you say you are,” Anders once growled through grinding teeth, Juliet was smiling as she jogged up to him, Garrett, and Aveline. The sun was beginning to set, casting the skies overhead in violent oranges and reds, with Kingpin smelling no Circle Mages turned abomination.

“Of course I am, you just can’t see it through that lightening blue haze over your eyes.” The closer she got the more she skipped with her nose up in the air. Her mabari stood between the two with his tongue rolled out.

“You were laughing! You touched the Knight-Captain’s arm!”

“Do you want the entire city to hear you?”

Kingpin growled lowly, with his ears tucked back, at the abomination. Anders clutched onto to his staff, tense all over, and took a step back. Other words died at the back of his throat. He was careful not to upset the beast.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Anders is right, Juliet,” spoke Aveline, following the younger woman who walked beside the eldest Hawke. They had to leave the Gallows now; needed somewhere else in Kirkwall. “You speak to the Templars far too casually to be careful. You take them on as clients, too. You will slip-up.”

“No, I won’t.”

When Garrett stopped, almost in the tiny boat that would lead them back to Kirkwall’s docks, the world around them paused. His shoulders heaved up and down—slowly, deeply, trying to untangle jumbled up thoughts and concerns.

Behind tinted, prescribed glasses, Juliet’s eyes widen when he placed heavy hands on her shoulders. Blunt nails almost bit crescent moons in her flesh. Garrett once had a younger sister, a thought that still hurts him years later, and knows that little can be done to sway Juliet’s mind. He simply warned her, a whisper between them, “Be careful, please. Knight-Captain Cullen is…he’s—”

Juliet placed her hands over Garrett’s. “Right under Knight-Commander Meredith, some say her Fist, the most unhinged, crazy Templar Knight-Commander. I know, I know.” A gentle pat. “I’ll be careful. Trust me.”

The Templars haven’t caught me yet.

 However, being careful is not necessarily equal to being gentle.

Her touches, rare as they are with Cullen, are always gentle. Brushing. Nearly ghostly along his armored bicep. As exhausted as he must be from spending hours under the sun, in his heavy uniform, he still escorts her and Kingpin home most evenings. The first time he entered her new home was simply to show-off what she earned, to share her plans for the then empty mansion. The second time was to be kind. Third time was to break in the King’s Gambit set he had gifted her; “A housewarming gift,” he claimed with a shade of pink dusting his cheeks. The seventh time? They had developed something that they chose to ignore.

She should have been more careful.

Yet, his eyes are so golden…. And tired. The bags under them look like bruises. She traced the pads of her fingers under them, listing the non-Orlesian ways to get rid of them. Sleep being the number one way. How could anyone sleep when the mages—apostates, abominations, maleficar alike—grew tiresome of the power Templars have collected? Even she was tired. Here, within these walls, or in the Blooming Rose, Juliet can help those who wish to escape such gruesome realities. The harsh lines on Cullen’s face ease away with every gentle brush of her finger. Despite growing tired under such ministrations, Cullen keeps his eyes open staring at no particular spot before him.

Belly full of victory cookies, ears lulled to the constant sound of firewood crackling and two mabari sleeping, Cullen’s attention drifts to the woman before him. Brown eyes concentrated on where her fingers go on his face, but full of concern. Her fingers coated in an aroma of sugar and butter. Lips rosy pink….

“Cullen?” A soft-spoken, concerned word when his thumb brushes against her cheek. The sharp metal of his gauntlet runs along her cheek; never enough pressure to cut her, but enough to send prickles down her neck.

His eyes glance down and his face goes red at a thought. The hand that was caressing Juliet’s face falls with stuttering words from its owner. A sort of apology of how he should not have been so forward. “I must go back to my post—the Gallows. I should not have wasted your time. It has been a long day; you must be tired.”

“Cullen, please, wait.” A hand holding his elbow stops him. She always knew where, and when, to touch. Her fingers rest under a buckle, worrying the muscle. “You—it—it looked like you—that you wanted to say something. Is there something you wanted to say?”

When Cullen turns around, he does not expect to see her blushing so much. She looks down when he turns toward her. The grip on the inside of his elbow tightens. “You never waste my time, and I’m—I’m not tired. Pretty sure Garrett—Hawke won’t need me tomorrow, so I…I can sleep in.  N-n-not that I-I’m insinuating anything! It…it’s just that…with everything that’s happened we’ve, um, we’ve, yes?” Juliet took to speaking to the flaming sword on his torso; a far easier thing to look at than his eyes.

He holds her face with his free hand.

He leans down, as she pulls herself upward.

A pause between the both of them. Hearts and thoughts racing—Be careful; this isn’t right; what’s one kiss—with sweaty hands. Glancing at the other person’s eyes before darting down to the person’s mouth.

Juliet stops just a breath away from Cullen’s waiting lips; leaving him to decide whether they kiss or not. And, oh, how he wants to…. Thoughts of this nature, of such daring innocence, only just started to blossom at the forefront of his mind whenever he sees her enter the Gallows. It is always her. Her standing by his side, holding his hand unafraid of the sharpness that surrounds them, talking with him like an old friend, and a companion guarding his back. Here, with her (and Kingpin and Goliath), there are no demons or maleficar. A sanctuary (that he does not deserve).

Cullen dares to kiss her bottom lip; feeling warmth spread throughout his face and down to his toes. The hand that is on her cheek knits its fingers in her soft hair of their own accord. The other rests on her hip.

He kisses her lip again and, seeings how their lips overlap, Juliet gently kisses his upper lip. Noses softly bump into one another, smelling the other person, her hands lay on his chest. Just at the hilt of the Sword of Mercy insignia. Both parties have their eyes closed; drowning in the others’ presence. Listening to every breath, every sigh, and shutter. A fleeting smile crosses someone’s face before they kiss once more.

Another kiss, but this time it is Cullen’s bottom lip being kissed and Juliet’s top. The red lipstick she wears marks Cullen’s slow moving mouth. His lips aren’t dry anymore, and he tastes of those Ferelden sugar cookies. His short, stubbly beard bites around her mouth.

The Knight-Captain is the first to pull away—heart pounding so hard, he fears that Juliet can hear it echo under his breastplate—with a soft sound of detachment from her lips. He keeps his eyes closed. Her hands hold onto the collar of his armor; her brow presses against his, glasses uncomfortable on her face now, nuzzling him. Silently begging for just one more kiss.

“I…I…,” he swallows a lump in his throat. Tongue heavy and not knowing how to work to help form words.

A warm, wet appendage lazily traces along Cullen’s upper lip.

With great difficulty, he peels his eyes open to see a half lidded gaze staring back at him. She travels with Hawke and his gang, even lived with him for a few years, he should not be doing this. Not when mages could be making deals with demons or performing blood rituals. This is a distraction. He should—a fleeting kiss on his lower lip.

“I’m sorry,” a whisper, “I shouldn’t’ve done that. It-it isn’t—caref—” Teeth clank together in a hungry, devouring kiss; capturing a gasp.

Then, between gliding lips and nibbling teeth, someone is moaning. Or is it a groan? Tongues dance together, wrapping and unwrapping around each, before hiding away in frantic, passionate kisses.

A body dressed in cotton and leather presses up against steel. Metal fingers weave into auburn tresses; giving the head freedom to move as needed, but being sure to keep her close. Another set of hands hold onto a neck, playing with golden curls at the base of a skull. The very tips of their ears are dark pink and chins are wet.

Juliet pulls away, gasping for air, and nibbles just under Cullen’s jaw. His stubbly beard tickles and hurts her softer expression. She nips and sucks along any part of his neck that she can, reveling in the sounds he makes and how he tugs at her hair. One of his hands lies at the top of her rear. There is a slight lift of her skirt.

She flicks her tongue on his earlobe, smiling at his full-body shutter, and carefully takes his earlobe into her mouth. A gentle suck has Cullen hugging her body to him. She couldn’t help but smile.

A voice is breathless when she says, nearly begs, oh-so close to his ear, “Cullen.”

Next, there’s a shout and she is thrown to the ground with a yelp. Her head would’ve met the hard flooring if not for Goliath dashing behind her to catch her in time. Kingpin stands between her and the Knight-Captain, snarling.

Scrambling to sit up, Juliet watches Cullen back away from her. Red stained lips move in what she knows to be the Chant of Light. He stares down at her with wide, wild eyes. A hand finds the hilt of his sword. She will not pull at the Fade. She will not call to her staff. Both mabari are snarling and snapping at the Knight-Captain. Could any of them hear her erratic heartbeat?

Clearing her throat, a hand rests on her upper torso; she calls to him in her most normal, concerned tone of voice. “Cullen, are you alright? Do you need help?”

While he whispers the Chant, his golden eyes frantically move about the room. The shadows play tricks on him; he sees familiar shapes falling before him, blood-curdling screams, hears it calling out to him. Touching him.

“Cullen!”

A bark.

He’s back in Kirkwall. Back in a room cast in an evening fire’s glow; smelling of sugar cookies, mabari, and flowery perfume.

Kingpin and Goliath sit on either side of Juliet—a young woman, who works with Hawke and at the Blooming Rose, which is a place frequented by his Brothers and Sisters, she uses a bow and arrow to fight and sometimes a dagger, and she helps the Order track down abominations. She likes to wear skirts and red lipstick. Carver speaks fondly of her.

“Cullen,” she speaks to him firmly and gently, hands barely shaking, “you know there are no demons here, right? That I am not a demon?”

Kingpin remains motionless. Intelligent, dark eyes staring back at the Templar.

“I must leave,” he says, wiping away any evidence that may be on his mouth. A red stain smears itself on his armor. He walks to her front door and walks out. The door does not slam behind him, but it shuts firmly nonetheless.

Juliet stands still in her spot. He might come back, realize that magic coats along his tongue or buzz at the air around him, steal her to the Circle. Lock her away in the darkest cell for months on end. See to it that the other Templars—her clients—get their revenge for being toyed with. Kill Kingpin and Goliath! Realize that Garrett is an apostate, too, and do the same to him!

Her legs give out.

And she’s sobbing in her study.

The youngest mabari pushes at her glasses to lick away her tears, whimpering earnestly, while Kingpin nuzzles at her chest with a massive paw on her knee. She hugs them both.

“Don’t—” she chokes on her words, removing her glasses, “don’t t-t-tell An-And-d-ders or Av-Av-Aveline. Please!”

They gently bark their promise to keep silent.

Goliath continues to lick away the tears that come, whimpering his pleas for her to feel better. Juliet’s breath isn’t easy, and her face is quickly gathering mabari drool, but she still has to clean-up around her mouth. To only hide messy lipstick and wipe away Templar saliva.

She’ll have to be more careful.