#*cracks knuckles* driver tagging here we go

[hotchscoffeecup]

pillow talk

pairing: javier peña x DEA!reader

word count: 3.2k

tags: thunderstorms, there was only one bed, fluff no smut, near car accident, no y/n

summary: when a severe storm causes you and javier to have to stop off at a motel for the night, a game of two truths and lie as you both struggle to fall asleep reveals some hidden feelings for one another.

incredibly huge shoutout to @bau-muffin for always beta-ing my fics and encouraging me. i hope you all enjoy! this fic is open ended, so if you’d like to see a part 2, let me know in the comments!

You jolt awake gasping, reaching out a hand to steady yourself. It takes all of five seconds to grasp your surroundings and remember you’re still in this fucking car.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, princess,” Javier grumbles from beside you in the driver’s seat. His knuckles are clenched around the steering wheel and his back is rigid, muscles stiff as he focuses on the road as rain slams down against the windshield.

You swipe your hair back with one hand and rub your temples as you lean forward and peer out the window. “Jesus Christ, it’s really coming down.”

“Yeah, no shit. Thought I was going to have to check your pulse here in minute sleeping through the end of the fucking world like that.”

“Someone needs a cigarette,” you mumble under your breath.

“You’re telling me,” he says, eyes not once leaving the uneven pavement.

Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating everything for a split second and you don’t miss the way the trees bend under the force of the wind.

“How long do you think this will last?”

Javier shakes his head. “Fuck if I know. It hasn’t let up in the last hour, so I doubt anytime soon.”

Thunder explodes like cannon fire and another streak of lighting crackles in violently jagged patterns. There’s a crack, like a whip, and you barely scream out Javi’s name in time for him to jerk the wheel to the left and avoid the massive tree as it falls into the road.

The wheels screech as Javi veers off the road and slams on the breaks. You lurch forward and feel your heart hammer so hard against your chest you’re certain that it will shatter your ribcage.

Blood pounds in your ears and you look down to find an arm stretched across your chest. In slow motion, you process the arm as Javi’s and turn to look at him and his eyes, shining in the dim light and full of concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks, clearly shaken as well.

It takes you a second to find your voice, but you clear your throat and nod. Javi nods curtly and glances down at his arm across your chest. He quickly pulls his arm away and drops into his lap. “Sorry, reflexes.”

Rain continues to slam down diagonally in torrential sheets.You strain your eyes to try and see through the downpour, but even with the windshield wipers continuing to swipe at their highest speed it’s difficult to see anything.

“How about we pull off at the next town and grab a room at whatever hostel or motel they’ve got?”

Javier reaches up and jabs the overhead light. He yanks the crinkled map down from the dash and glances between it and the clock. “We’re only three hours from Bogotá. The ambassador wanted us back for the briefing at 9am.”

You glance at the clock on the dash and in the dim light, make out the time: 3:19AM.

“Javi, the only reason we’re driving from Medellín to Bogotá in the first place is because all flights were grounded on account of this incoming storm. What the ambassador should’ve done is just push everything until we were in the clear.”

Javier chuckles wryly and tosses the map back onto the dashboard. “Something tells me the President of Colombia wouldn’t appreciate being told to wait on account of two DEA agents because there’s a storm in Medellín.”

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat with your arms folded across your chest. “He would if we had any new intel actually worth sharing.”

“Yeah, well we don’t, so—”

“So, then we should just stop for the night! The briefing will happen with or without us. We don’t have anything new to share anyway. The ambassador doesn’t give a shit that we have to drive for ten hours. He’ll bitch at us for following what ended up being a bogus lead. Basically, we get our wrist slapped in front of the president or we get our wrist slapped without an audience. Frankly, I like the latter.”

Javier drops his head back against the headrest and holds up a hand to silence you. “Okay, okay! Stop the lecture, please! We’ll stop.”

Your lips quirk into a smug smirk and you have to admit that you feel quite satisfied with yourself. “Damn, Javi, you fold easier than expected. I thought I was going to have to beg.”

Javier huffs and inclines his head as he shifts the car into drive and pulls back on to the road. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

•

“Goddamn, could you open that door any slower?” You stretch your jacket up over your head as the short awning extending over the perimeter of the motel does little to keep you dry in the face of the rain pelting sideways across the building.

With a grunt of effort, Javier turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open. You stumble in after him, nearly tripping over his heels in your rush to escape the rain.

A shiver rushes down your spine as the chill from your damp clothes settles into your bones. You shrug out of your rain jacket and rub your hands up and down your arms as Javier dropped your two duffel bags by the door with a heavy thud.

He slaps at the wall for the switch and a single bedside lamp flickers to life, illuminating only half of the room in a dull yellow glow.

“Hey, Jav.?”

He doesn’t turn as he kicks out of his boots by the door to avoid tracking any mud into the room. “Hmm?”

“There’s only one bed.”

Javier turns, looks at the bed, then looks at you, and shrugs. “Astute observation there, agent. There is indeed one bed, that’s correct.”

You aim a dagger sharp look at him and he smirks. He swipes a thumb across his lips and scratches at the few days of stubble on his jaw. “You’re not going to find many double bed lodgings this far out from the capital. It was this or nothing.” He shrugs out of his rain-slicked leather jacket and tosses it over the small table that was meant to serve as a dining area. “Listen, if you’re really that uncomfortable I can sleep on the chair,” he says nodding towards the worn lounger in the corner.

You stare at him for a little while longer and roll your eyes, relenting as you release the tension in your shoulders. He’d been driving for hours without complaint. It would be unfair of you to ask him to sacrifice even more tonight. “No, we can share the damn bad.” You point at him with steely determination, “Just remember I have a gun.”

He chuckles low in his throat as you dip past him and scoop your bag off the floor. “We have the same gun.” As you duck into the bathroom to wash your face and change clothes, you hear him laugh again softly to himself.

When you emerge from the bathroom in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top you don’t miss the way Javier’s eyes glance over your figure. He’s already in bed, shirt off, and lower body hidden under the faded floral quilt.

“Peña I swear to God, you better have pants on under there.”

He lifts an eyebrow and then pulls the covers back, revealing a pair of loose gray sweatpants. He inclines his head towards you as he pulls the blanket back over himself. “I was torn between Hello Kitty and Mickey Mouse for the sort of pajamas you’d have.”

You ignore his comment and climb into bed beside him, realizing just how small a queen sized bed can actually feel.

“Come on,” he says, voice laced with amusement. “I’ve got some pajamas with Tweety Bird on them back home. Flannel just doesn’t do a whole lot down here in Colombia.”

You stifle a laugh picturing hard edged Javier Peña in Tweety Bird patterned anything.

“Come on, what do you usually wear to bed back in D.C.?”

You roll over abruptly, catching Javier off guard. You look him in the eyes, offer a coy smile, and say, “Nothing.”

His stunned silence is so loud as you turn around and settle into the pillows with your arm tucked under your head. You smile to yourself as Javier clicks off the bedside lamp and for a while all you hear is the rain slamming against the tin roof.

You close your eyes and just as you feel like you’re about to drift off, Javier says your name, breaking the quiet stillness that had settled over the two of you.

“Go to sleep, Peña,” you mumble against the crook of your elbow.

The mattress shifts as he rolls onto his side. “Can’t.”

“Try.”

“I did.”

“Try harder.”

“Think I’m still coming down off the adrenaline rush of nearly getting crushed by a falling tree.”

You groan and turn over to face him. A lazy smile hangs on his lips and you feel an extremely strong urge to punch him, but also, with the way the dim light streaming in through the slit in the curtains illuminates the shine in his eyes, you can’t help but soften a touch.

“Jav, you’ve been in a firefight with how many sicarios? We’ve come back from a bust and I’ve seen you fall asleep at your desk without even realizing it.”

He blows out a breath and falls back onto the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. He breathes out a short laugh. “Yeah, I have done that, haven’t I?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head in your hand. “Is something on your mind?”

He makes a disapproving sound and waves a hand in the air before letting it drop back to the mattress. “There’s always something on my mind, but I don’t want to keep you up. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover before the ambassador hands our asses to us for missing the briefing.”

“Well, then, we’ve got time to sleep in. Tell me.”

He clicks his tongue, again, trying to avoid whatever it is that’s eating at him. “Same shit, different day. Every lead turns out to be a wall. More people end up dead. Escobar remains out of reach.”

You press your lips together, nodding in understanding. You reach out with your other hand and place it over his, folding your fingers around his palm and offering it a comforting squeeze. “At least we’ve got each other through the bullshit.”

Javier tilts his back into the pillow, shifting his eyes to look up at you. “Careful, there, someone might actually think you like me.”

His words strike an uncomfortably awkward chord in you and you feel your face flush. Your brow pinches. “Of course I like you, dumbass. You’re my partner.”

He strokes his thumb across the space between your thumb and forefinger and you tense before withdrawing your hand and falling back onto your pillow so that you’re also looking up at the ceiling.

Javi is the first to break the silence. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“And Steve!” you blurt.

“What?” Javi questions, brow pinched.

“Steve is also our partner.” Oh my God, would you just shut the fuck up and stop rambling? Why are you short circuiting over a fucking thumb stroke? You were just being nice, friendly.

With your coworker.

Who was shirtless.

In bed with you.

Right next to you.

Your skin tingles where his thumb brushed against the top of your hand.

“Right,” Javier says, drawing out the T.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan internally. Before your internal dialogue can take over and embarrass yourself further, Javier speaks up.

“Do you want to play a game?”

The question is so unexpected, it abruptly halts the runaway train inside your brain.

You tilt your head to look at him. “What?”

He nods as if that’s exactly the right thing to ask at 4:30 in the morning. “Two truths and a lie, you ever played it?”

You scoff, but smile all the same. “Not since high school.”

He smiles. “Good, so you remember the rules then. I’ll go first.” He clasps his fingers together in front him, steepling his thumb and forefingers as he takes a moment to think. After a moment, he perks up. “Got it, okay, so, I broke my collarbone falling off a roof, I played football in high school, and in the same year asked a girl out in front of the whole cafeteria with a dozen roses and everything, the whole nine yards, and she rejected me.”

You can’t help the hiss of air that flows through your teeth. “The last one has to be true,” you say. “Seems like a pivotal event in the life and times of heartbreaker, Javier Peña. I’m going to say that it's definitely true.” You pause, thinking. “Men love talking about their glory days, so I think I’d have heard you mention being a football player at some point or another. I think you’re foolish enough to be me up on some roof you shouldn’t be, so falling off and breaking your collarbone sounds plausible.” You pop your lips as you make your decision. “Football. You never played it.”

Javier grins beside you. “Running back.”

“No shit.”

He nods, “I was a scrappy kid who could run fast and run hard.”

“No wonder you love a foot pursuit, then. Alright,” you start, turning over and propping your head up in your hand. “What was the lie?”

“I only had one rose.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Of course you did.”

He sits up, propping the pillow up behind him and leaning against the headboard. “Maybe if I’d had the whole dozen, she’d have said yes.” He taps your forearm with the backs of his knuckles. “Your turn, go ahead.”

It doesn’t take you long to come up with your responses. “Okay, I have seen the Red Hot Chili Peppers in concert three times, I was a competitive dancer, my favorite flowers are roses.”

Javier’s eyes brighten. “Roses. That’s the lie.”

You baulk at his quickness. “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen your CD collection at your apartment. You have every Chili Peppers album.” He pauses and looks you up and down, though most of your body is concealed by the quilt. “Have you seen your legs? Of course you were a dancer.”

You blush and hope he doesn’t notice in the dim light.

“Plus, I know for a fact your favorite flowers are carnations.”

You turn sharp eyes on him. “How do you know that?”

He shrugs, “Overheard you talking to Steve when he was thinking about what sort of flowers to get Connie after that big fight they had. You got all doe-eyed and said something about how sweet carnations are.”

“I do not get doe-eyed,” you insist and playfully slap Javi on the arm.

He nods, chuckling. “Oh, you do.”

You wave him off. “Alright, fine. You got me. I love carnations. Your turn, go on.”

Javier swipes his thumb across his lip. “Got it.”

You give him the floor. “Lay it on me.”

“My partner has feelings for me.”

Your heart stills in your chest.

“I might have feelings for my partner.”

Incredible heat rushes to your cheeks.

“I can breathe underwater.”

Your eyes drop to his chest, flickering across the skin of his neck and shoulders as if there’ll be some sort of answer spelled out there amid the smattering of freckles and moles dotting his skin.

Javier looks at you from beneath his lashes, drawing your attention back to his soft, brown eyes. “If you’re looking for gills, you won’t find any.”

“I—” you start and stop. “We should really go to bed.”

You move to turn away from him, but his fingers find your shoulder and the way your name sounds on his tongue is nothing but genuine. A few beats of silence pass between you before he says your name again and you close your eyes.

“Javier,” you breathe out on a sigh.

“No, don’t say my name like that. Like you don’t feel it too.”

You open your eyes and find his are still focused on yours. His pupils dart back and forth across your face, irises flickering in the cool darkness of the room.

“Jav, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just caught up in—” you gesture between the closeness of your bodies and the room. “All of this, what’s happened tonight. It's an infatuation you’re feeling, nothing more.”

“You think I’d fight with the colonel to ground Steve and let me go on this wild goose chase of an operation if I was only infatuated with you?”

You blink hard, thoughts clearing. “What?”

“It was supposed to be Murphy on this with you, not me. They wanted me to follow a tip we got on La Quica.

Your eyes widen, “But you’ve been on his trail for months!”

Javier presses his lips together and nods as he waits for the realization to dawn on you.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Javier echoes.

The space between you narrows and for a while, the only sound is the rain against the tin roof and rumbling of thunder in the distance.

You finally break the silence and speak up, smiling sheepishly. “You, uh, sure you’re not hiding any gills from me, Javi?”

He cracks a half-smile and inclines his head towards himself. “You're welcome to take a look for yourself.”

You laugh, a little uncomfortably and a little unsure of what to do now. You drop your chin to your chest and before you can say anything else, Javier clasps your face in one of his hands, thumb caressing your jawline, and draws you in to press his lips against yours.

You freeze, but only for one stunned moment before you return the gesture. He tastes like mint and menthols and his mustache tickles the skin above your lips as he deepens the kiss.

A moan escapes your lips into his open mouth and you break away, breathing hard. You rest your forehead against his and don’t even remember when you’d looped your arm around his neck. You brush your fingers against the skin of his throat where your hand curls around the back of his neck and swallow hard. “Javi, we ca—”

He kisses you, stifling the words as they form. “Don’t,” he whispers, a quiet plea. He swipes his thumb across your cheek. “Don’t say anything, not now at least.”

He does something then that surprises you. He kisses your forehead, the space right above your brow. “It’s all out in the open now. Think about it. Just don’t,” He pauses, and you’re stunned by how shy he suddenly looks. “Just think about it, okay?”

Unable to think of anything else to say, you can only nod. “I will.”

Javier smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good, let’s try to sleep some, huh? The road to Bogotá isn’t going to get any shorter.”

You stare at his back as he turns over and settles down onto the pillow, concentrating on a mole on his shoulder. After a couple seconds longer, you turn so that your back is to his. And though you’ve never been closer to him, you can’t help but feel like some incredibly wide chasm has opened up in the space between you.

You just have to figure out if you’re brave enough to take the leap.

[butterflyyeo]

drunk in love

pairing - yeosang x fem reader

genre - fluff, angst (?)

tw - lots of alcohol consumption, swearing

wc - 10k

side ships - seongjoong, yungi

a/n -- was meant to be angst but turned into fluff... im trying my best to get better at writing angst aaaah. but please enjoy this for now <3 thanks for letting me tag you @iminchaosnow !!

------------------------------------------- you had known kang yeosang for nearly two years now. two, dreadfully slow and exhausting years.it was your final year of high school when he transferred to your school, he was a close family friend of wooyoung's. his parents had spoken highly of the school, insisting that yeosang transfers in order to excel for his last year of schooling. as far as you were concerned, he had decent grades, but he preferred to spend his time hanging around the skatepark after dark, when everyone else had left.

and in all the two years you'd known him, you had never once had a full conversation with him, despite being in your group of friends. his side of the 'conversation' usually consisted of monotonous 'yeahs' and 'mhms'. wooyoung constantly assured you it was because he's shy and that he'd eventually open up. but you weren't convinced. you tried so hard for him to like you, but your efforts were fruitless. it was infuriating, feeling like you were constantly doing something wrong whenever you were around him.

you currently found yourself in the backseat of yeosang's car, wedged between a drunken yunho and mingi while a chaotic wooyoung was singing along to his chosen playlist. (though, it sounded more like wailing.)

you and the eight boys had all decided to take a gap year, spend every last cent you earned on adventure and alcohol to make lifelong memories, before your careers became a blockade in your friendship. but the year was coming to an end soon, it was already mid november. on the bright side, that meant your favourite holidays were just weeks away.

yeosang was always the designated driver. that was something you had noticed about him over the last few years. to be honest, you weren't sure just how he coped with a screeching wooyoung, because you sure as hell weren't dealing very well with yunho and mingi who were playing a very intense game of rock paper scissors to decide who would be crashing on the couch in your apartment.

"i win!" mingi cheered, waving his hands excitedly. "you're on the couch, man."

yunho frowned, "damn."

you laughed, "it's okay, yunho. you can share the bed with me if you'd like."

"hey! that's not fair y/n! you said i could this time." wooyoung whined from the front seat.

"sorry, woo. you know i keep my promises, but you're going back to your apartment. remember?" you tried to reason.

wooyoung looked as though someone had switched a lightbulb on behind his eyes, "oh yeah! i forgot."

the four of you burst into laughter, mainly caused by the alcohol and partially because of wooyoung's realisation. and still, yeosang didn't crack a smile, hands just gripping the steering wheel tighter as his knuckles turned white.

soon, you arrived outside your apartment block, quickly stepping out the car after yunho. wooyoung wound his window down and you poked your head in, attempting to hug him goodbye.

"bye woo!" you said, giggling at your faltered farewell.

"good night y/n, thanks for the drinks!" he shouted, exclaiming a bit too loudly next to your ear.

"thanks for the lift as always, yeosang!" you yelled, pulling away from wooyoung's tight hug.

he nodded, "no problem." before putting the window up and driving away.

you pouted, turning around to face the two boys. "i just don't understand what i'm doing wrong." you buried your face into your hands, "why doesn't he like me?" you groaned.

"y/n." mingi began, "its nearly 1am, its way too late for this 'why does yeosang hate me?' crap." he shook your shoulders, literally trying to shake some sense into you.

"yeah, mingi's right. we've had this discussion a thousand times." yunho said grasping your wrist and pulling you up the stairs, stumbling along the way. (because lets be real, stairs are difficult enough as it is, let alone when drunk.) "now, let us into your apartment so we can eat your food and crash on your couch!" he joked, nudging mingi in a playful manner.

you reached into your pocket and fumbled around with they key for a moment before unlocking the door. the boys practically pushed you inside and made a beeline for the fridge.

"help yourselves! i'm going to shower." you called, dragging yourself to your bedroom.

once you'd finished showering you went back to the living room to check on yunho and mingi. not so much to your surprise, they had fallen asleep on your couch already, cuddled up into each other. it was cute, even picture worthy to show their sober selves. you reached for your phone which typically lived in your pocket, though you began to panic when it wasn't there. hurrying around the apartment, you searched every possible nook and cranny for your phone, but it was nowhere to be found. you collapsed onto your bed, snuggling into the soft sheets, too tired to worry about your phone anymore and content with the assumption that you'd left it in yeosang's car.

shortly, your heavy eyes fell shut and you began to sleep away the tequila.

————————

the next morning you awoke to mingi and yunho's deep, hungover voices, discussing their plans for the next week.

you reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed and dawdled down the hallway.

"ah! there's our favourite karaoke partner!" yunho greeted, jokingly.

you laughed, "shh, don't let wooyoung hear you say that."

"she's right, man. he'd be so offended." mingi said, stretching out his sore limbs. "how are you feeling today, y/n?" he asked.

"not the worst hangover i've had. what about you guys? you're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like, until you feel better." you replied, knowing them well enough to know that they'd need at least a few painkillers and a good meal before they went home.

yunho chuckled, "i feel like crap, but nothing a sandwich and glass of water can't solve."

"i second that." mingi said, raising a hand.

"okay, well in that case, i'll go to the store and get something for breakfast. sound good?" you reasoned, running a hand through your hair. you loved these boys, and making them breakfast was just a nice way of showing you cared. drunk or not, they knew how to make you smile and laugh, which they loved to see.

"sounds amazing!" yunho said, breaking into a sincere smile.

you quickly changed out of your pyjamas and slipped some shoes on.

"i might be a bit longer, i need to stop by yeosang's. i think i left my phone in his car." you explained, picking your keys up from the kitchen counter. "see you guys soon! feel free to take a shower if you want." you said, waving goodbye and heading out the door.

"okay, bye y/n!" the boys called from behind you.

the first stop was yeosang's apartment, he only lived about ten minutes away with wooyoung and san, in the same building as jongho. both yunho and mingi lived on the other side of town, which is why they so often crashed at your place after parties. seonghwa and hongjoong were fortunate enough to live in a house, just outside town, they had actually been the hosts of last night's party.

it didn't take long to get there. you pushed open the lobby door and made your way over to the elevator, disappointed to see that it was out of order for maintenance. instead, you took the stairs and began spiralling upwards. less than a minute later you looked up, only to bump into the man you came looking for.

"oh, yeosang! i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to." you quickly apologised, worried about creating another reason for him to dislike you.

"it's fine." he shrugged.

you both began to talk again at the same time, "ah, sorry, you go."

"i was just gonna say, you left your phone in my car. actually, i was about to bring it back." he pulled your phone from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to you. as he did, your fingers brushed against his. he spun around suddenly and began to walk away, "i'll see you around."

he had left before you even had a chance to thank him. slightly confused and frustrated, you turned back around and traipsed down the stairs.

you gathered what you needed for a hearty breakfast at the local convenience store before heading home and spending the rest of the day in the enjoyable company of yunho and mingi.

yeosang had entered back into his apartment and sat down on the couch.

"back already?" wooyoung asked, rummaging through the fridge.

"she was coming to get her phone and i ran into her on the staircase."

wooyoung sighed, "when are you gonna stop hating her?"

"i don't hate her." yeosang said, not looking up from his phone.

"then why do you act like you do?"

yeosang pretended to not hear that question and continued to scroll through his phone. see, he'd rather not dwell on things that he couldn't understand.

————————

to fill up your weekdays during your gap year, you had picked up a job at a hotel in town as a receptionist. to your dismay, your boss had asked you to work night shift all week, which is how you found yourself here on thursday night, sitting alert and waiting for the slight chance that someone might check in at this time of night. it was a pretty fancy hotel, and the job payed well enough, so really, you had nothing to complain about.

the nights seemed to drag on for an eternity. to keep yourself busy, you often wasted time counting the cars that drove past, or tried to count the number of crystals that hung from the chandelier. so far, only a few people had checked in during your shift, having come from overseas and recently arriving at the airport. honestly, whenever someone walked through the front door, lugging a suitcase behind them, you got excited as it gave you something to do.

the clock was creeping up to 4am and you let out a quiet yawn, feeling drowsy as your body clock hadn't yet adjusted to the change of sleeping patterns on such short notice. taking a sip of water, you shook your head, trying to stay awake. your head suddenly jolted up at the sound of the front door opening.

a man stumbled forward, and you'd seen enough zombie movies to become instantly paranoid. you quickly pushed the thought out of your head, feeling ridiculous for even considering it. but as the man got closer, you could smell the cheap, potent alcohol lingering on his body.

he leant against the desk, peering down at you. "i need a room for the night."  he grumbled. "my stupid wife kicked me out." he said under his breath.

you forced a friendly smile, despite feeling uneasy, "of course! i just need you to fill in this form with some simple details." you said, sliding across a clipboard and a pen.

he huffed, picking up the pen and scribbling onto the sheet of paper before pushing it back to you. "can i go now?"

"just a moment, sir." you replied, eyes skimming over the form as you copied the information into the computer in front of you.

the man was growing impatient, stepping from foot to foot with his arms crossed.

"uh, sir, you missed a part of the form. could you please provide your phone number here." you pointed to the empty space on the sheet.

"for fucks sake." he muttered, "i don't have my phone on me and i don't know my phone number." he said, annoyedly tapping on the desk.

"i'm really sorry, sir, but—"

"can't you just find me a fucking room?" he snapped, hands balled into fists and slamming against the desk, making you jump in fright.

before you had time to try and reason with him, he continued to shout.

"you're as stupid as my wife! i'll just find a different fucking hotel." he yelled, swiping the clipboard and pen off the desk. "useless bitch." he mumbled as he kicked over a chair on his way out.

you chewed your bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears. with shaky hands, you picked up your phone and dialled the first place that came to mind. after a few rings, the phone answered.

"woo?" you croaked, trying hard to not cry.

"he's asleep. this is yeosang." he replied, evidently having just woken up by the sound of his voice.

"oh." you began, instantly feeling guilty for waking him up, "i'm sorry i didn't mean to disturb you."

"did you need something?" he asked.

"i just, i was..." you let out a sob, wiping at a tear falling from your eye.

this didn't go unnoticed by yeosang, "are you crying? what are you doing awake right now anyway?"

"i'm at work." you managed to choke out.

"at 4am?"

"i'm on night shift."

"why are you crying then?" he asked, feeling something slightly tug at his heart, but choosing to ignore it.

you began to ramble, "a man came in and he was really drunk and complaining about his wife and then he yelled at me because i asked him to give his phone number and—"

"i'm on my way." yeosang cut you off.

"what?"

"i'll be there in ten." with that, he hung up the phone.

exactly ten minutes later, you were sat in the passenger seat of yeosang's car. he was dressed in sweats, clearly having come straight from bed. you'd left a note on the desk, explaining to your coworker why you wouldn't be there when she arrived to take over your shift. a silence filled the car, and you felt the need to talk, but chose not to, worried about giving yeosang another reason to hate you.

once you arrived outside your apartment building, you were surprised that yeosang got out the car too and trailed closely behind you up the stairs to your apartment. when you reached the door you spun around to face him.

"thank you for bringing me home." you said, voice quiet and still rather shaken up.

"it's no problem. good night, y/n." he replied, sensing that you were still upset. he suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you tightly and not let go until you stopped crying. he wanted to protect you from every drunk idiot on the planet. he wanted to make you feel safe.

but instead, he watched as you closed the door behind you and locked it from inside.

————————

you arrived at work the next morning, instantly feeling more comfortable with cleaners, employees and people coming and going. immediately, you headed for your boss's office.

"good morning, sir. i just wanted to come and apologise for leaving my shift early last night. i can assure you it won't happen again." you said, feeling nervous as to what your boss might say.

he shook his head, "i should be the one apologising, a man came in this morning and spoke very sternly about the safety problems here. i realise now how stupid it was of me to make you work night shift, alone, at such a young age. we've hired security guards and have also made sure that two people will be on desk at all times. i'm sorry that you had to deal with that."

you were at a loss for words, you didn't think that there would be such drastic changes just from the once incident. "thank you so much." you replied.

"for now, take the rest of the day off. you'll only be working day shifts for next week and can return to doing night shifts whenever you feel ready to do so." your boss said, motioning for the door.

the rest of the day you spent in deep sleep, catching up on some much overdue rest.

———————

weeks passed and you found that work was much more enjoyable. you still hadn't returned to working night shifts, but at least now you had someone to run the front desk with you and keep you company.

this weekend, you were going to visit hongjoong and seonghwa. hongjoong was sick and so you decided to go help out since seonghwa couldn't always be there to look after him.

you knocked on their front door and was surprised to be greeted by san.

"good afternoon! come in." he gave you a hug before ushering you inside.

"what are you doing here?" you said, following him down the hall.

in the living room, you saw all eight of the boys gathered around a couch-ridden hongjoong.

"jongho was already here when me, yeosang and woo arrived." san explained.

"yeah, and then mingi and yunho turned up." wooyoung continued.

"y/n! i have never been more glad to see you! you gotta save me from them." hongjoong laughed, arms open, signalling for a hug.

you went over and embraced him in a hug, "good thing i brought an excessive amount of cookies." you said, placing the box of cookies on the coffee table next to the couch. the table was covered in empty mugs and bowls, you could tell seonghwa had been busy and hadn't had the chance to clean up. you opened up the box and handed him a cookie before offering them around to the rest of the boys.

"you're the best cook ever." mingi said, taking a big bite.

"i made you spaghetti last night!" yunho countered, feeling offended that his roommate didn't think he was the better cook. mingi just laughed and took another bite.

"jongho get off the counter, please." seonghwa said, coming through the front door. "don't be so comfortable, you were throwing up in my toilet like a month ago." he joked.

yeosang glanced your way, his eyebrows furrowed like he was contemplating something.

"lets head off and give these two some space." yunho said, dragging mingi behind him.

wooyoung stood up, "yeah, lets get going."

yeosang pulled his keys from his pocket, "okay, bye guys." he said, heading down the hallway.

"can we get some food on the way home?" you heard san call as they left.

"bye hongjoong! i hope you're feeling better soon." jongho said, "bye seonghwa, i promise i won't throw up in your toilet any time soon." he joked, leaving through the front door.

"seonghwa, how are you? don't forget to take some time for yourself as well." you frowned.

"i'm tired, but i'll be okay. i just gotta clean up and—"

"why don't you go rest a while? i can keep hongjoong company for a few hours." you reasoned, wanting to help as much as possible. there was nothing you hated more than seeing you friends in distress and upset.

he looked between hongjoong and yourself, "i couldn't."

hongjoong let out an audible huff, "hwa! will you just let her help please, she clearly wants to."

you grinned, "exactly, now go read or sleep or watch some tv or something." you said, gently pushing him towards their shared bedroom.

you spent the afternoon tidying up and talking with hongjoong. you managed to do all the dishes and put them away before scouring their kitchen, deciding on what you could use for dinner. you found everything you needed for a decent meal and began cooking it up. hongjoong had dozed off mid conversation, surrounded in a pile of tissues, you chose to let him sleep so he would recover quicker.

about an hour later, you placed two steamy hot meals onto their dining table next to two full glasses of water. you quietly knocked on their bedroom door, finding seonghwa asleep amongst the covers.

you gently shook him awake, "hwa, i made dinner for you guys. you can wake joong up, i'll head off now." you said with a smile.

leaving the two of them to enjoy their dinner, you headed home and cooked yourself something to eat. it was nice having some time to yourself, but saturday nights were becoming more and more empty as winter grew closer. december was only days away and the year would soon come to an end. you reached for the phone, suddenly desperately missing your friends despite only seeing them hours ago.

"hey woo, are you free next weekend?" you asked.

he paused a moment, "i think so, why?"

"you wanna go out with the others? it's been a while since we have all caught up for drinks."

"count me in!" wooyoung cheered.

you called everyone else up and they all agreed, even hongjoong promised to come if he was feeling better.

————————

you found yourself surrounded by wooyoung, san, yunho and mingi as the music blared. it was a less popular club on the far side of town but it was a comfortable place for you all. you often came here for drinks and the staff members knew you, quite well, a little too well. san grabbed your hand and spun you around a few times with the music.

you laughed, leaning against him, "maybe spinning around isn't the best idea right after two shots of vodka."

"what?" san yelled into your ear, struggling to hear you over the music.

you laughed louder, pulling him closer to you, "i said, spinning is not a good idea after drinking vodka!"

"oh!" he joined you in laughing before trying to twirl you around once more.

hongjoong and seonghwa sat at the bar, holding hands and being intimate as always. yeosang was sat next to jongho at a booth, quietly talking with him, but from the corner of your eye, you saw jongho stand up and walk away. your eyes watched him worriedly and you couldn't help but run after him. you followed him as best you could, stumbling every now and then. he'd gone to the bathroom so you patiently waited outside until he came back, looking slightly pale.

you practically leapt at him, doing a quick scan to make sure he was okay, "jongho? are you alright?"

he smiled at your overwhelming concern, "yeah, i just drank too much as usual. i'll be alright, you can go back to dancing."

"let me just get you some water first. i'll be right back okay?" you patted his shoulder. "don't go anywhere i'll be back in a second."

you made your way back to where jongho had been sitting with yeosang. as you approached, yeosang eyed you up and down, taking in your drunken state, though, it wasn't the first time he'd seen you this way. you nearly tripped as you reached the table, struggling to walk in heels.

"i need a glass of water, do you have a glass of water? jongho needs a glass of water." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for the jug in the center of the table.

"are you okay?" yeosang asked, quickly pushing your hand away from the jug.

"i'm okay, but jongho needs water. can i take this cup? he's waiting for me, i told him not to go anywhere, i need to get back to jongho—" you tried to pick up a glass but yeosang pressed your hand back down once more.

"i'll take it to him, you stay here." he said, filling the cup full with water and heading towards the bathrooms.

your brain suddenly felt fuzzy and your eyes became blurry, it was like the alcohol hit your system all at once. your head spun round and round and you leaned forward, resting your hands on your head. you'd never felt this sick from drinking, maybe you'd had too much too quickly, maybe it was the spinning. there was no way to tell, all you knew was that you felt like you were about to fall from the top of a very high roller coaster.

your eyes felt increasingly heavy, you allowed them to slip shut, head falling to the table with a not so gentle thud.

"y/n?" someone shook you, "y/n wake up!" it was wooyoung.

"shit, is she okay? should we call an ambulance?" jongho said, reaching for his phone.

"is she breathing? has anyone checked?" seonghwa gently lifted your shoulders and sat you upright, relieved to see the rise and fall of your chest. "we should call a taxi and get her home."

"are you crazy? she's unconscious, she won't be able to get up the stairs to her apartment! what if the driver is dodgy? she's already had to deal with shitty men while working night shift, imagine if something happened while she's drunk!" yeosang blurted out. the boys were shocked over his sudden concern for you. yeosang had never once shown any interest or care for you in the presence of them.

"well, what should we do then?" mingi asked, worriedly running a hand through his hair.

"i'll take her, you've all been drinking." yeosang concluded. "she'll be fine, don't worry. enjoy the rest of your night, okay? i've dealt with woo passing out before remember?"

"that's true." san said, throwing a light hearted glare in wooyoung's direction, who showed a rather sheepish expression.

the boys went back to their drinks, taking it a little slower now and yeosang carried you to his car. it wasn't easy, but he managed to sit you upright in the back seat of his car with his rear view mirror aimed directly at you so he could make sure you were okay.

he was able to lift you up the stairs and get your house key from the pocket of your jacket, which would've looked questionable to anyone else, but he had the best intentions. he sat you down in a dining chair, watching as your head lolled forward and your body slumped. he quickly filled a glass of water and came back to you.

"y/n." he whispered, resting a hand on your shoulder. "y/n." he said again, louder this time.

the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but you weren't waking up and that was becoming concerning. he shook your shoulder, as gently as he possible could in a moment like this, and to his relief, your eyes hesitantly opened.

your head felt like a bowling ball and you groaned quietly. "yeosang?"

"here." he said holding the cup to your lips, allowing you to take a small sip.

"how did we get here?" you mumbled, head rolling to the side.

he caught your head and carefully pushed you back upright, "i drove you, this is your apartment."

"oh." you said, eyes drooping shut again. "oh." you repeated.

"y/n, i really need you to stay awake right now." he said, bringing the cup to your mouth again. "lets talk."

"we never talk!" you exclaimed. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had!"

"i know." he said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of you. yeosang felt that slight tug at his heart again tonight, the way you sounded so excited just to talk with him.

"no, no, no." you whined, "this is so bad!"

"what is it?"

you pouted before nervously biting your lip, "i'm really sorry."

"for what?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"for ruining your night and making you stay here with me! now you just have another reason to hate me." you sighed, letting your head fall into your hands.

"i could never hate you." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but you had fallen back asleep, so yeosang sat you upright once more and monitored you closely all night. with every minute that passed, he wished more and more that it was easier for him to show his emotions, to you especially. he wondered if maybe he wasn't so closed off that things would be different between the two of you. but it was hard for him, to let people in, he was afraid. afraid of people judging the real him, afraid of what might happen if he lets himself become vulnerable, afraid of facing his feelings about you.

you awoke hours later with a raging headache and extreme nausea. you headed straight for the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, feeling the sickest you'd ever felt. yeosang waited patiently outside the bathroom door with a glass of water and painkillers.

when you came out, he held his hand out, "take this."

you looked down at his hand and then up at him, slightly confused, "what are you doing here?"

"you passed out last night, and i drove you home because everyone else had been drinking." he said, passing the glass of water.

"oh my god." you ran a hand through your hair, "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to be any trouble! you must of been here all night, i promise it won't happen again, that was so stupid of me—"

"it's fine, don't worry about it." he said, shrugging, "i'll get going now, but make sure you take it easy and drink enough water." his eyes carefully scanned your body one last time, making sure you were really okay. he headed for the door and you followed.

"i'm really sorry." you frowned, feeling as though no amount of apologies would make it up to him.

he let out a slight chuckle, "it's okay, seriously y/n." he said before leaving. you heard the all too familiar jingle of his keys as the door closed behind him.

he'd stayed with you all night, eyes watching over you closely. ready at your side whenever you stirred in your sleep. he'd been there in the morning prepared with water and painkillers. this was never how it was, usually this was your job, taking care of the boys. it was your way of showing you cared, helping out wherever possible.

this wasn't like yeosang. at all.

————————

as soon as yeosang got home he was greeted by a very concerned san and wooyoung.

"is she okay?"

"are you tired?"

"did she wake up?"

he was bombarded by questions.

"she's okay, she fell asleep after a while and i made her take some painkillers when she woke up." yeosang said, collapsing onto the couch.

"so you really don't hate her then." wooyoung thought aloud.

"he can't, he spent the whole night looking after her!" san said, hitting wooyoung like it was obvious.

"owww," wooyoung rubbed his arm, "even she thinks you don't like her!"

"i know, she said last night. but she probably won't remember saying that." yeosang said, feeling increasingly drowsy from his lack of sleep.

"maybe you guys should like, talk things out?" san suggested, taking a seat next to him.

"maybe." yeosang said, drifting off into sleep.

you had spent the day curled up in bed, wondering how you could make it up to yeosang, and there was nothing more you wanted than to get to know him better, but what would he want? you called up san on that thought.

"hey sannie," you said, "i need your help, actually, is woo there as well?"

"oh my god she's alive!" you heard wooyoung call from beside san.

"what do you need help with?" san asked.

you paused a moment, "is yeosang there?"

"well yes, but he's asleep."

you groaned, "i feel so bad that he stayed up all night looking after me. i really wanna make it up to him but i don't know how. plus, it's not like he's that fond of me. maybe i should just thank him by staying out of his space."

"i don't think he'd like that." wooyoung interjected. "i still think he just needs time before opening up to you."

"i think its just me." you sighed, worriedly chewing on your bottom lip.

"hey! don't be like that! there's no reason to not like you." san scolded you for down talking yourself as he always does.

"agreed." wooyoung said, chiming in.

"i'm sure i'll work something out. thanks guys! enjoy the rest of your day!" you said.

"good luck!"

"bye y/n!"

————————

you had been staring at your phone for at least an hour, typing and retyping the message to yeosang. wooyoung gave you his number so that you could contact him when you'd finally worked out how to make it up to him. in the end, you decided that you would let him decide.

you drew in a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes tightly shut as you pressed send.

you: hey yeosang, i still feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you !!

yeosang: did wooyoung give you my number? T~T

you: yes he did.. i hope thats okay !

yeosang: of course yeosang: how about you make it up to me over a cup of coffee? >.<

you: that sounds great !! you: when are you free ?

yeosang: does tomorrow morning work for you ? i can pick you up ^_^

you: of course ! i'll see you tomorrow :)

yeosang sat in his room, facepalming. why was it so easy to be more open over text?

you on the other hand, felt your heart swell in a bizarre way. maybe it was the way you hadn't expected him to use such cute little emoticons. maybe it was the way that you'd be able to have a full conversation with him. whatever it was, excitement had taken over you.

————————

a knock pounded at your door and you rushed to open it.

"ready to go?" he asked, leaning against the door frame coolly.

"yes, lets go!" you said, sounding a little too excited.

the two of you made your way down the stairs and into yeosang's car. you found yourself smiling as you looked out the window.

your excitement hadn't gone unnoticed, "you seem awfully excited."

"i really wanted to make it up to you," you beamed. "it must've been boring to watch over me all night."

"i didn't mind so much." he said, shrugging.

you frowned, "you shouldn't of done it."

"and leave you passed out in the club?" he quirked an eyebrow up at you.

"well..."

"exactly." he said, parking the car outside a small cafe nearby his apartment. "come on, lets go inside."

you followed him in and took a seat across from him at a table close to the window. you both ordered coffees and resumed conversation.

"so, where were we?" you smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

"talking about how you wanted me to leave you passed out in the club." he said. you were almost convinced you saw a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"right. i'm so sorry about that."

this time he actually chuckled, and you were taken aback. it was like the wall yeosang had surrounding himself was crumbling before your eyes.

"you need to apologise less." he laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth for a sip. "half of the time we talk its just you saying sorry to me."

"i'm so—"

"hey!" the two of you broke into laughter.

his laugh was loud but warm and you couldn't help but notice the way his nose scrunched up cutely, the way his eyes looked full of stars and the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes after, revealing his beautiful birthmark. from that point on, you wanted to be the one to make him laugh every day.

he felt that familiar tug at his heart, the one he'd been feeling every moment he spent alone with you. the one he felt when he first met you. the one he couldn't make any sense of. it was as though his heart was a violin and you were the one playing it. (which would explain the tugging feeling.) but you were playing the sweetest song and he never wanted it to end.

the two of you laughed the morning away, gradually making up for what you'd missed over two years in a matter of two hours.

you'd discovered that even after getting him to open up more, he wasn't one for words. you found yourself talking his ear off while he listened intently, occasionally sharing his opinions and stories. in all his honesty, he didn't mind listening to you talk. he could've sat there all day, drinking countless cups of coffee, watching the way you bit your bottom lip whenever you paused to think or the way your eyes filled with sparkles when you talked about something that made you happy.

you insisted on paying for the infinite cups of coffee, as it was your way of making it up to him. he reluctantly agreed, but promised that he would pay if there ever was a next time, which he secretly hoped there would be. he'd finally had the chance to let his walls down. (it was actually more like you'd climbed the walls and torn them down with your bare hands.) but he was thankful for it.

he drove you back to your apartment, even after you persisted on walking home, seeing as it wasn't that far. he refused, insisting that he drive you. he even followed you up the stairs to the door of your apartment.

you turned around to face him, "you know, you're not so bad when you actually wanna talk to me."

"you know, you're not so bad when you're not drunk." he countered, his lips breaking into a playful grin.

you glared jokingly, "hey! don't make me apologise again."

"okay, okay. i won't." he said, raising his hands in defence.

you smiled, resting against the door, "alright, well, i've really enjoyed hanging out with you today. maybe we should catch up more often."

"maybe we should." he said, bearing a coy smile, "bye, y/n. i'll see you around."

————————

it was only about a week later he showed up at your work, at the end of your shift. you were pleasantly surprised to see him, and at first thought he was just someone coming to book a room.

"hello, are you looking for a r— yeosang?"

"when do you get off work?" he asked, glancing over to the clock.

"five minutes."

"i'll be waiting in the car, okay?" he said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

on his way out, you saw as he ran into your boss, the two of them beginning conversation.

"it's good to see you've made those security changes." yeosang said as he nodded, extending his arm for a friendly handshake. "i'm very thankful."

your boss shook his hand, "and i'm thankful that you suggested them."

just over five minutes later you got into the passenger seat of yeosang's car.

"it was you who told my boss about the safety problems." you said, in near disbelief.

"hello, to you too." he joked sarcastically. "well, i would hate to think that the situation could happen again, so i just suggested some possible improvements. thats all." he shrugged like it was nothing.

"suddenly, i feel the need to make it up to you again." you smiled shyly.

"you can do that by accompanying me to the skate park." he said, motioning to his skateboard on the back seat.

"ah, so thats why you came."

"well yeah, i wanted to bring you to the skate park."

your heart swelled once again, feeling joyed that he wanted to share one of his favourite places with you. (despite him never telling you directly, you knew he loved the skate park as he spent majority of his high school time there when he wasn't studying.)

when you arrived, the sun was beginning to slip behind the horizon, causing the sky to glow a rosy pink. there were still a few kids, probably high schoolers, hanging around the park. you took a seat at a bench and waited for yeosang to come over, who was getting his skateboard out the car. you felt oddly out of place since you were still in your neat work uniform and didn't know the first thing about skateboarding.

yeosang rolled over with a grin plastered onto his face, you'd never seen him so happy, and it made you happy to see him this way. it was strange how all it took was a few cups of coffee for him to become a completely different person around you.

he didn't need to ask you to watch as your eyes were already glued to him as he dropped into the bowl, showing countless tricks and flips.

the truth was in fact that yeosang was grateful for you 'making it up to him'. he'd never been able to comprehend his feelings for you, if they were even feelings at all. he hated the confusion and decided it was easier to ignore it, and to an extent, ignore you, to make it go away. it had been working for the most part, until every time the two of you were alone together, he couldn't ignore the slight tug at his heart, that was becoming more of a pull over the last few weeks.

"you're amazing!" you cheered as he sat down next to you, out of breath.

"thanks." he smiled shyly, running a hand through his hair and out of his face. he leaned back, looking up at the sky. "do you sometimes wish you could see the stars from within the city? hongjoong and seonghwa are so lucky they can see them from their house."

you pondered a moment, thinking about the last time you actually saw stars in the sky. "i see stars in your eyes sometimes." you said, absent minded.

he felt warmth burning in his cheeks, "you do?"

"do what?" you turned to him, "did i say that out loud?" you gasped, covering your face in embarrassment. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that it was just a thought and—"

"what did i say about apologising?" he laughed. "it's getting cold, right? you ready to head home?" he asked.

you smiled, "if you are."

he drove you home and said goodbye, feeling happy about spending time alone with you once again. he couldn't stop thinking about what you said and you couldn't stop feeling like a fool for saying it.

————————

the weather got colder and colder and soon it began to snow as the days of december passed. you had spent the day helping jongho move some new furniture into his apartment. it was a difficult job, but easier with the two of you, even san and wooyoung came to help. you couldn't resist wondering where yeosang was and why he didn't come, seeing as they lived in the same building. maybe he was busy, you thought.

"hey, where's yeosang?" you asked, lifting a box and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"at home, i think he's been feeling sick or something, he hardly comes out of his room lately." wooyoung shrugged, assuming it was all good.

"if he's sick i'll bring him over some food and painkillers, maybe keep him some company." you explained, not wanting yeosang to be unwell.

"i think he'd rather be left alone, to be honest." san said, giving wooyoung a side glance that you couldn't miss.

you pulled out your phone and sent yeosang a quick message.

you: are you feeling okay? san and woo said you were sick :((

he didn't respond right away and you just figured he was asleep. but as you finished helping out at jongho's house a few hours later, he still hadn't responded. when you were sitting down to eat dinner at home, he still hadn't respond. just before you were going to turn the lights out and go to bed, he still hadn't responded.

something was up. this wasn't like yeosang, not anymore. not since the two of you had been spending so much time together. maybe it was like the boys said, and he was truly very sick, but in that case, why wouldn't they let you help?

————————

days passed and you went to work as usual, repeating the same few lines, asking people if they want a room, asking them to fill in a form, then directing them to the right room. days passed and you still hadn't heard back from yeosang, you wondered if he was still sick. days passed and you began to think maybe you should go over there to see if he's okay.

but if there was one thing you'd learnt about yeosang recently, it was that he was the quieter type, and probably wouldn't appreciate you going over there to keep him company and would rather be alone. so that evening when you got off work, you didn't go visit him like you so desperately wanted to, instead, you went straight home.

you cooked and ate dinner for yourself, before picking up your phone, only to see still no messages from yeosang.

you: hey woo you: is yeosang feeling better ?

wooyoung: yeah he is

you: well then can i come visit tomorrow ?

wooyoung: i think he's busy wooyoung: sorry

you: its okay woo you: its not your fault !!

you switched your phone off and headed for the shower, trying to wash away the stress and worry for yeosang that had built up over the last few weeks. you had really grown to like him and there was still so much about him you wanted to learn, like when he learned to skateboard or how he got the small scar on the back of his hand, that you'd noticed when ever he brushes his hair out of his eyes.

two years he'd spent, not interested in holding conversation with you and two years you'd spent, wondering what you'd did so wrong. but lately, you felt like you were doing something right around him, getting him to smile and laugh, share his own stories.

you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he still didn't like you, and had just been trying for wooyoung's sake.

or maybe he was genuinely starting to like you, but you went and fucked it up by weirding him out and telling him about his starry eyes.

or maybe he'd just had enough of you already. decided that a few weeks was enough time spent trying to change things between the two of you.

as you finished showering and changed into comfortable clothes, you glanced at the clock which read 10:56pm. you switched on the television to watch some youtube before going to bed. as you felt yourself dozing off, a faint knock sounded at your door, so quiet you almost missed it.

when you opened the door, you were shocked to see yeosang standing there, leaning against the door frame for support. he looked up at you, his normally starry eyes were dulled with tears.

you rushed forward to him, smelling the alcohol as you got closer, "yeosang are you okay? what are you doing here? i thought you were sick. are you drunk? you never drink, come inside." you gently pulled him inside, closing the door behind you. when you turned to face him, he was staring at you, tears about to spill over the brim of his eyes.

"i hate you." he breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. he didn't seem angry though, he looked fragile, like a glass vase balancing on the edge of a table.

you felt the urge to cry, finally hearing those three words that confirmed your biggest concern, yeosang disliking you. "yeosang, i'm so sorry. i never meant to—"

"i hate you." he said, louder this time before running a hand through his hair hastily. he let out a frustrated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "i hate the tugging feeling in my heart whenever we're alone. i hate the way you put yourself before others. i hate the way you ramble on when you're nervous. i hate the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. i hate the way i don't drink around you because i feel the need to protect you and make sure you're safe. i hate the way i tried to ignore you for two years because i was scared and confused about my own feelings. i hate how it only took one cup of coffee with you for my walls to come crashing down!" he paced from side to side, waving his hands around crazily.

yeosang looked scared and lost, like he'd never felt this way about anyone before, and that was the truth. he didn't know how to comprehend these feelings and it terrified him.

you watched as he spiralled, seeming as though it would never stop. you weren't sure what to do, so you just listened to that swelling feeling in your heart once again, the one that had led you to develop feelings for yeosang, and you pulled him close into your arms. he clung onto you tightly, scared to let go, like if he did then he'd lose you forever. you ran your fingers through his hair briefly, trying your best to comfort him.

"i'm sorry." you repeatedly whispered to him. you'd never meant to upset him or confuse him.

yeosang let out a quiet sob into your chest, "i hate the way i've fallen in love with you." he croaked out.

he didn't hate you. never did. never will. your heart swelled completely in your chest, feeling as though it would burst through. but it couldn't be true. he's totally drunk out of his mind.

"you're not in your right mind, yeosang, you need to get home. you're drunk and talking nonsense." you embraced him tightly one more time, and you could've sworn you felt the beat of his heart through the hug. "come on," you urged, steering him towards the door, "wooyoung and san are probably worried and waiting up for you."

with much effort, you led him down the stairs of your apartment block and walked him home. the street lamps led you in the freezing city night air. you held his wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs to his own apartment. he didn't speak a single word the whole time, instead, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. it hurt you so much to see him this broken, but you knew he wasn't saying the truth under control of the alcohol in his veins.

you knocked at his apartment door, hoping that one of the boys were still awake. luckily, they both were and quickly they flung the door open.

"y/n? yeosang?" san questioned, his eyes wide open with disbelief.

"we've been so worried about you!" wooyoung said, pulling yeosang away from you. "hang on, are you drunk?"

san had noticed his tired, tear stained eyes, "you look like you've been crying! are you okay?"

you let out a quiet sigh, knowing you didn't need to be here anymore. you gave a small wave goodbye and headed home, utterly exhausted.

and though you were so drained, you couldn't seem to fall asleep. those words yeosang said to you kept running through your mind busily.

did he mean any of it?

————————

yeosang felt bad. he felt terrible. like he wanted to vanish into thin air and float away with the breeze. though he couldn't, no, he desperately wanted to apologise to you. but he didn't know how, he wasn't good with words or expressing his feelings, and you wished he knew that was something you loved about him.

wooyoung and san tried to ask him what happened the night he drunkenly confessed to you, but he couldn't have them know that he'd been harbouring feelings for you for all this time, they'd never let him live it down. he could imagine the continuous teasing they'd give him, nudging him whenever you were together or giving him side glances after talking to you.

yeosang gave it lots of thought. he mulled it over in his head repeatedly. it was only after hours spent hidden away in his room that he decided to go back to where it all started, a text. a text that said how much he wanted to make it up to you for having to deal with him drunk, just like the one you'd sent initially.

yeosang: hey y/n, i feel really bad about the other day, i wanna know how i can make it up to you! T^T

your heart leapt a mile seeing his name appear on your phone. you grinned upon reading his message, realising it was scarily similar to the message you had first sent him.

you: hmmm you: that sounds familiar

yeosang: >.< yeosang: seriously though, how does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound? i'll cook

you: you can cook?

yeosang: there's a lot you don't know about me x_x

you: okay, i'll be there !!

————————

yeosang wasn't lying when he said he can cook. as you traipsed up the stairs of his apartment block you could smell something delicious laced in the air.

the usual swelling in your heart had instead fell to the pit of your stomach, you were feeling slightly nervous as to what would happen when you entered yeosang's apartment. you inhaled deeply before knocking at the door of his apartment.

"hey y/n, come in." yeosang greeted, holding an arm out, signalling for you to come inside.

"you must've been working hard cooking! it smells delicious." you said, feeling a sense of comfort just from the smell of food.

"yeah, lucky i sent wooyoung and san over to jongho's place, otherwise i doubt there would be any pasta to serve." he joked. "you can take a seat, i've just gotta serve up."

you sat down in front of a neatly laid table, it had somewhat surprised you how much effort yeosang had put into this dinner tonight. he placed a steamy hot plate of pasta in front of you and one where he would sit.

"so." he began.

"so." you copied, teasingly.

"i guess, i really just wanted to say i'm sorry for how i behaved the other night when i was drunk. you shouldn't of had to deal with that." he frowned, poking at his dinner.

you furrowed your brows, "it's seriously fine yeosang." you took a bite of pasta, "i was just surprised to see you drunk, since you never drink."

he chuckled, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, "actually, i do. i just never drink when you're there."

"really? why?" you questioned, eating another mouthful of pasta.

"because..." he paused. "no, it sounds dumb out loud."

"it's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." you smiled warmly, "but that does remind me to ask... do you remember anything you said to me while you were drunk?" you leant forward, genuinely curious.

he sighed, "i remember.. enough."

"you don't really hate me, right?" you asked, playing with the food on your plate.

"of course not! that's why i invited you here tonight. to show you that i don't, and to make it up to you." he had to refrain from reaching across to hold your hand, just to show how much he cared that little bit more.

you nodded, "well, thats good. i was kinda worried that we'd gone back to square one."

comfort settled within you. it was relieving to know you weren't hated by the one person whose love you wanted most. a tiny thought crept into your mind, maybe, just maybe, now would be the right time to tell him about your blossoming feelings for him. or would that confuse him more? now you were the one feeling conflicted.

"are you finished eating?" he asked, reaching for your empty plate.

"yes, thank you! it was delicious. you're a good cook, y'know."

"ah, thanks y/n." he turned away to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

"would you like me to do the dishes? since you cooked." you offered, standing up. but he quickly opposed.

"don't be ridiculous." he shooed you back to your seat. "can i get you a coffee? water? wine?"

"a coffee sounds good, i think you and i have had too many drunken situations lately." you laughed.

yeosang pulled out two mugs and put the kettle on. he felt your eyes carefully watching him. once again, he hated the feeling that was pulling at his heart. the way you could say nothing, yet he felt everything.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, voice now quieter and more hesitant.

"sure, what is it?" he said, placing a warm cup of coffee in front of you.

you took a sip, humming in delight. it was exactly the way you liked it. when the two of you went out for coffee, he had unintentionally remembered just the way you like it.

"well," you began cautiously, in case you brought this situation into flames again. "i just... i always wondered why you didn't like me. if i was doing something wrong, if i said something once that really upset you. and then after we started spending time together, i finally felt like i was doing the right thing." you groaned, frustrated with yourself for not getting to the point quicker. "what i'm trying to say is that i have feelings for you. it's okay if you don't feel the same way. i wouldn't expect you to, i just thought you should know—"

yeosang basically choked on his coffee, eyes widening in shock. "it's okay, y/n! in case you hadn't noticed, i'm crazy about you."

you had continued to ramble nervously before hearing what he said.

"wait. you are?"

"basically ever since you said that thing about stars in my eyes, yes."

you cringed, remembering how you had said that so absent minded. "yeah, sorry about that."

"it's okay, it was cute. and what did i say about apologising?"

you shook your head and smiled, "i know."

————————

ever since the two of you confessed to each other, you had been almost inseparable, except of course when you had work. but he dropped you home most nights, even though you insisted it was okay and that you could walk. he came over every weekend just to spend time with you, even if the two of you just sat and talked, enjoying each other's company. you'd been dating for a few weeks now, but kept it undercover, not wanting to suffer the incessant questioning that would come if you told your friends.

it didn't go unnoticed either, wooyoung and san were constantly nagging yeosang about why the two of you spent so much time together, and each time he just shrugged it off.

christmas was just around the corner, so you were spending the evening at seonghwa's and hongjoong's house, who of course, were throwing an unnecessarily large house party to celebrate.

you were sat between a very drunk yunho and mingi, who were trying to talk to an also very drunk jongho. you eyed your boyfriend from across the room, as if asking for a way out and he just laughed at the situation you were stuck in.

after at least ten minutes more of having your ear talked off, yeosang came to pull you away to the dance floor.

"care to dance?" he asked, extending his hand to you.

you immediately jumped up, latching onto his hand, "i would love to!"

he chuckled, pulling you close to his side and leading you to the makeshift dance floor that seonghwa and hongjoong created.

the two of you laughed at the boys' reaction. they were completely shocked to see the two of you so close together and yeosang being friendly.

he twirled you around a few times with the music, before settling his arms around your waist. he brought you near to him as you placed your arms behind his neck. you swayed back and forth, engulfed in your own little bubble of comfort in each other's arms, completely out of time with the loud thumping music that blared around you.

you felt content, and yeosang no longer felt confused. he found his home in your arms and his happiness.

you reached up to place your lips on his, capturing the moment surrounding you. yeosang melted into the kiss, discovering that your lips were soft and sweet against his, just as he had imagined, which caused his knees to feel weak and his heart to skip more than just one beat. he never wanted to let you go, he wanted to compensate for every second that he didn't spend with you since the two of you met.

he leaned forward and whispered softly, just so you could hear above all the music and singing, "lets stay like this forever."

[matwith1t]

A/N: Hiii! I’m fairly new to writing for Mat, but I heard this song and went !!! so I wrote a little something based off it! There’s a part two in the works! I’d love to hear any & all feedback!! 💗✨ @itrocksmysocks​​ here’s your tag 🤩 

Summary: Mat felt beyond nervous to meet your family for the first time, but like you predicted, your family absolutely adored him. But when your relationship suddenly comes to an end, Mat unknowingly broke more hearts than yours. (heavily inspired by More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress)

ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking // WC: 11.8K // Fluff & Angst

The trees were in full bloom as you drove down the familiar streets of your hometown. The sweet smell of April air wafted through the slightly cracked car windows; and the sun shined just as bright as the smile on your face when you looked over at the person sitting next to you in the driver's seat.

“And there’s the park where I broke my wrist after jumping off the swings,” you excitedly pointed out the window.

Mat chuckled and squeezed your hand as he slowly rolled to a stop at a stop sign. With no one behind you two, he idled the car for a little longer, and took his time looking out the windshield, “And the place where you got in your first fight, right?”

You turned in your seat to face Mat, who had a wicked smirk on his face. With your mouth wide open you gasped, “I was five and they pulled my hair!”

Mat leaned his head against the seat, eyes shut tight with a crinkled nose, as he let out a boisterous laugh. “Always the fighter,” he said as he brought your connected hands up to his lips, and pressed a kiss on the top of your hand.

You tried to contain your smile, but all of your efforts were lost when Mat’s eyes connected with yours. At the delicate soft smile on his face, you couldn’t control the smile that slowly crept onto your face. And the only thought circling your mind was how did you get so lucky six months ago.

Six months ago, you wound up at a mutual friend's house for a birthday party where you met Mat. It started off with talking in the kitchen over drinks, then to beer pong partners where he would clasp his hand around yours after a high five, and by the end of the night, you two were on the couch off in your world talking nonsense as he kept knocking his knees against yours.

Phone numbers were exchanged by the time the party was over, and a day and a half later, you met him at a coffee shop early in the morning.

A loud honk from behind brought you out of reminiscing. Mat seemed just as startled as you as he dropped your hand, checked to make sure no other cars were at the all-way stop, and then hit the gas pedal.

“Asshole,” Mat muttered under his breath as he slowed down and picked your hand back up.

A small chuckle escaped your lips, “We’ll walk around later and then you can see everything again,” you squeezed his hand as a promise, “Turn left here.”

He turned the blinker as he approached another stop sign, “With all of the stories you’ve told me….” After checking to see no other cars, he turned down the street your parents lived on for as long as you could remember, “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

You felt yourself heat up in embarrassment, “Sorry, I––”

Mat shook his head and quickly glanced at you, “Never apologize. I love hearing your stories.”

With a little embarrassment still lingering in the pit of your stomach, all you offered him was a closed lipped smile. Mat took his time driving down the residential street, admiring the quaint neighborhood, as you piped up, “We’re coming up to it on the right––three more houses––the one with the navy blue door.”

With a deep exhale, Mat’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, as he nodded his head, “Cool.”

With scrunched up eyebrows, you tilted your head to stare at his side profile. Because with his knuckles turning slightly white, locked jaw, and clammy hand, you knew he wasn’t anywhere near feeling ‘cool.’

“Why are you nervous?” you asked him sincerely as he pulled up and parked in front of your childhood house, “You’ve met them over FaceTime and they loved you.”

Mat rolled the windows up before turning off the ignition and turned in his seat to face you with a worried expression, “Because it’s your family, FaceTime is barely anything. This is meeting them face to face and that’s…different.”

You appreciated his honesty instead of denying his nerves, “You’ve already passed with flying colors with everyone,” he still didn’t look convinced so you listed your reasons, “My mom loves anyone who makes me happy and I’m very happy with you.” Mat tucked his chin into his chest to hide his blush, “My dad thinks it’s awesome that you’re a hockey player, won’t shut up about it. And my sister likes you because she thinks you’re her in to get her a hockey boyfriend.”

Mat took the key out as he threw his head back in laughter again in a way that made you fall in love with him all over again. The two of you opened your doors at the same time and got out of the car.

“Trust me,” he said with a few small laughs, “you wouldn’t want your sister to date a hockey player.”

You raised your eyebrows at Mat as he popped open the trunk and took out both of your bags, “What about you, Barzal?”

Mat shut the trunk, slung his bag over his shoulder. When you tried to reach out to hold your bag, Mat pulled it back and shook his head as if asking you why you would even try to carry your own bag.

“I’m better than the rest of them.”

This time, it was your turn to throw your head back in laughter; eyes shut tight and nose crinkled. And when you opened your eyes, you saw Mat staring at you, eyes full of adoration. You imagined it as the same look you gave him after he laughed.

You whispered, come on, to him and Mat followed you up the driveway to the front door. Your hand was floating on top of the door handle to open it, but the door swung open. The sudden movement startled you, which caused you to stumble back a bit, but Mat placed his hand on your lower back to keep you steady.

“Finally, you’re here,” your sister let out an over dramatic sigh and flung herself into your arms.

You hugged her back, “Hit a bit of traffic.”

Your sister scoffed as she pulled away from the hug, but kept her hands resting on your shoulders as she stood arms length away. She raised her eyebrows and looked over your shoulder, “I’m assuming he drove?” You nodded your head and your sister rolled her eyes, “Guess fastest skater doesn’t translate to fastest driver.”

You masked your laugh with a cough as you peered over your shoulder to see Mat’s face turning a deep shade of red.

Knowing how nervous Mat felt, you rolled your eyes and lightly shoved your sister’s shoulder, “There are laws we have to follow when driving.”

“Touchè,” your sister said as she stepped aside and let the two of you in, “Would be kinda cool if there was something in driving that was like the same as getting in a fight during a hockey game.”

“Are you condoning road rage?”

She shrugged her shoulders, not paying any mind to your question as she focused her attention on Mat, “I’ve seen you get pretty feisty out on the ice––”

“Oh, that’s enough out of you,” your mother chastised your sister as she walked in from the other room, “I told her to wait until the two of you were inside.” She playfully glared at your sister one last time before facing you and Mat with a glowing smile, “Mat, so nice to finally meet you in person.”

Mat set down both of the bags on the hardwood floor, “Thank you for inviting me over, my schedule isn’t always the easiest to work with, so sorry for the delay.” He held out his hand, but your mother batted it away and brought him in for a hug.

“No need to apologize,” your mom said with a smile as she pulled away from the hug, “We’re just happy you could make it here for a weekend.”

Mat smiled and shuffled toward you, but kept his arms stuck to his sides, “I’ve been wanting to come, and I know it’d make Y/N happy,” he looked down at you with a smile that you returned, “So I’m happy to be here.”

Your mom clasped her hands together in front of her and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she continued to smile, “You’re too sweet.” She then turned to look at your sister, “Go show Mat the guest bedroom so he can drop his bag off.”

With a nod, your sister was off, talking a mile a minute at Mat who looked petrified. But you gave him a knowing look, referring back to your conversation in the car, how your mom approves of anyone who makes you happy. With a shake of his head and a slight roll of his eyes, he followed your sister up the stairs to see where he would be staying; in a separate bedroom from yours.

You stood in the foyer with your mother in silence for a few seconds before she broke, “I love him.”

“Mom,” you directed your eyes up to where he was only a floor above and had the possibility of hearing.

She laughed as you followed her into the kitchen. You slid onto one of the barstools as she went to stand over the stove. She picked up a spatula and moved around the vegetables in the pan, as she looked over her shoulder, “He’s perfect for you.”

You slumped forward, and buried your face in your hands, something about this conversation with your mom felt as if you were transported back to high school. Peeking up from your hands, your mom was still staring at you with a smile on her face, “He’s pretty great.”

“There’s something about the way he looks at you,” your mom’s comment struck a chord that caused you to sit up straight.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “He just…He looks at you with a lot of admiration.”

“You’ve spoken three sentences to him.”

Your mom spun around and pointed the spatula at you as she playfully glared, “You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him. And I’ve noticed it on the FaceTime calls as well.” Her features softened, “You can see how much he cares.”

An electric jolt shot down the back of your spine as you bit the inside of your cheek to contain your smile. Her comments also made you curious. No one else had ever pointed out the way he looked at you, of course your mom pointed it out because she’s your mom…but no one else had.

Did that mean that his friends saw the way he looked at you? Did his teammates notice a difference in his demeanor whenever they saw you two together after one of his games? Did his family notice the way his eyes lingered on you for just a bit longer when you met them?

You didn’t doubt anything your mom told you, in fact, it only made you confident that your relationship with Mat was definitely one for the long run.

Playing off the semi-serious look she gave you, you let out a small laugh, “You’re falling in love with him faster than I did.”

The spatula your mom held fell against the pan with a clatter as she whipped around, “In love?”

With a slight nod, you let a smile overtake your face as butterflies filled your stomach, “Yeah…” you said softly as you remembered the night Mat told you. There weren't any grand gestures, nothing over the top, just the two of you on the couch––with Mat laying his head on your thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair––and it slipped out from him.

“Just as of a few weeks ago,” you fiddled with your thumbs, “Still a bit new, but yeah.” You looked up at your mom who looked like was on the verge of tears, “He makes me really happy.”

Your mom sniffled, “And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled at her, but with the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs––and your sister’s nagging about how much time Mat spent in the penalty box last season––your mom picked up the spatula and went back to cooking. Soon enough, two more people came into the kitchen, and your sister picked up a task to help with dinner.

“Do you need help with anything?” Mat asked your mother as he stood next to you.

She waved him off, “No, no––Everything’s almost ready anyway, just relax, I know the drive was long.”

Mat looked down at you, as if asking you if there really wasn’t anything for him to do. Shaking your head, you patted the barstool next to you.

He slid in easily and his hand automatically rested on your knee. Normally, Mat was a very touchy person; whether it be a small hand on your back in public or his hands ventured further up your clothes in private, he always had some sort of physical contact with you. But in front of your family, he was stiff.

So naturally, he placed a hand on you that was out of sight from both your sister and mother.

“Has she harassed you about a hockey boyfriend yet?” You leaned in and whispered to Mat so neither one of your family members could eavesdrop.

Mat chuckled, but shook his head, “No. She did ask a million questions about hockey though, I think she’s trying to warm me up.”

“Keep your phone close, I wouldn’t put it past her to steal a few numbers out of it. She’s had her eye on Tito since she started watching the games.” Your tone of voice was joking, but Mat’s face looked terrified. You knocked your knee against his, “I’m kidding, she wouldn’t disrespect someone’s privacy like that.”

Mat squeezed your knee, which caused you to let out a small laugh, “I––”

He was cut off by the front door opening and a loud voice saying, “Are they here?”

Immediately knowing that your father walked through the door, Mat’s hand from your knee dropped and he moved his chair a few inches away from yours. You let your mouth drop at his actions, but found the whole ordeal hilarious.

You slid off the stool just as your father walked into the kitchen. He set down his work bag and smiled, “Hey, you.”

It only took a few strides to be over to your dad and in his arms for a hug. After a few seconds, he pulled away, and you just knew that he was looking at Mat. And you didn’t need to look at Mat to know that the fear of God was in his bones. He stumbled out of the barstool, placed both hands on the back of the stool to stop it from wobbling, and took a deep breath.

“Mathew,” your dad nodded at your boyfriend, “Nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t lost on you that he didn’t tack on the in person like your mom had. In your father’s eyes, he had yet to officially meet Mat, and considered this their first meeting, even though they had talked on FaceTime a handful of times. And if it wasn’t lost on you…You knew that Mat was overthinking it all in his head.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Mat took a few steps forward and reached his hand out, and unlike your mother who waved off his handshake for a hug, your father reached out and shook Mat’s hand, “Thank you for inviting me for the weekend, I–-I know how much Y/N loves it here.” Mat nervously glanced over at you next to your father for reassurance, and you nodded your head as to say good job.

“We’re glad you could find some time in your schedule,” your father stiffly responded.

There was a part of you that felt bad for Mat. You knew how intimidated he was to meet your father face to face for the first time, but there was another part of you that wanted to laugh. Whenever you talked to your dad, there was always some part of the conversation that Mat was brought up in, and it was mostly by your dad. He admired Mat’s work ethic as a hockey player, and was a big fan of hockey himself, so it was a bit comical to see him acting disinterested toward Mat.

“Dinner’s ready!” Your sister yelled out as she carried a steaming hot pot and weaved in between the three of you.

“Does everyone have a drink?” Your mom called out as she carried a pan of vegetables over to the table.

“Is there something I can bring over?” Mat asked your mom as she set the vegetables down.

She smiled, “There’s a chicken in the oven if you can bring that over.”

Mat nodded, finally feeling like he was of use for something, “Of course.”

The two of you walked into the kitchen and Mat released the biggest breath you had ever heard. You let out a chuckle as you took oven mitts out of a drawer and handed them to him, “Alright there?”

As you took down two glasses, Mat slipped on the oven mitts,  “I think I was more nervous meeting your dad than I was for the draft.”

You let out a loud laugh as you started to fill the glasses with ice and water, “Don’t worry, he really likes you, trust me.”

“He called me Mathew.”

“And other people don’t?”

You knew where he was coming from, but you wanted to also show him that it wasn’t a big deal.

Mat opened the oven and carefully took out the chicken, “It’s your dad––everyone else called me Mat.”

With a roll of your eyes you picked up the waters and slowly walked toward the dining room with Mat at your side, “He’s just playing the dad card,” you hip checked him, “By the end of dinner I swear you’ll see it.”

Mat didn’t look convinced, but the conversation was dropped when the two of you entered the dining room. Mat set the chicken down on the table where your mom instructed and then sat down in the chair next to yours.

Dinner started normally; plates were passed around to be filled up, stories of your childhood were shared, and Mat was able to share some of his stories face to face with your parents rather than a FaceTime call.

Mat perfected the skill of acting suave, mastering easy conversation skills from all the times he’d done press interviews, but no one else was aware that Mat moved his chair a teeny bit closer to yours. And no one was aware how you were slightly sitting on the edge of your seat so that way it would be easier for Mat to hook one of his feet around your ankle.

Again, it was the physical contact that Mat always craved, but you also knew how nervous he was, and skin to skin contact made him feel calmer.

“So, Mat,” your dad started out, and when you heard him not use his full name, you pulled his foot toward you in an I-told-you-so way, “Hockey is quite the career.”

As if he knew that this conversation was leading for him to defend his atypical career path, Mat unhooked his foot from your ankle and straightened out his shoulders, “Yeah, it––Hockey isn’t a normal day job, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“No school?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Mat’s index finger rapidly tap against his thigh.

“I wasn’t very good at it––Not that school isn’t important, because it is,” he fumbled over his words, afraid that he said something wrong, “But when playing hockey professionally started to become a reality, I wanted to put all of my effort into that. Studying for a test was like doing a drill over and over again. Making friends was getting to know my teammates. Doing homework was working out at the gym and camps all year round. And now I…Now I play hockey professionally.”

Everyone at the table was silent as they took in Mat’s well thought out answer. To say the least, you were impressed with his answer, and by the relaxed look on your dad’s face, you knew he approved instantly.

Mat coughed awkwardly into his elbow, “I do have a high school diploma though.”

Your sister snorted at Mat’s attempt to prove that he has at least some level of education, albeit not a higher level of education, but education nonetheless. You stepped on her foot under the table and glared at her.

“That’s a very interesting way to look at it,” your dad took a sip of his water, “Being on a sports team––at any age––means you have a lot of dedication,  hardworking, have goals, and that you know a lot about teamwork.” Your father’s eyes shifted over to you momentarily before he regained eye contact with Mat, “And I respect that in a man.”

You could see the stress float away from Mat as he tried to hold back his smile, “Thank you, yeah it’s a lot of hard work, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, “Nothing?”

Instead of panicking like you expected, Mat paused for a few seconds, “One thing,” he glanced over at you momentarily before looking back at your father with a small smile, “I would trade it for one thing.”

You ducked your chin into your chest in order to alleviate some of the attention, but it was a small table, and of course Mat was talking about you, so there was no use. But your sister wasn’t shy in stealing away the spotlight.

“Hockey,” she let out a low whistle, “A very demanding sport.”

Mat nodded, “It is, but you end up building a lot of stamina and you sometimes don’t feel the effects of it until you sit down on the bench for a bit.”

“It’s quite aggressive too,” your mom cut a piece of chicken up, “Between fights, getting smashed against the board….”

“Yeah it can be aggressive,” Mat laughed it off, “I mostly get hit in the face with pucks.”

Your mom and dad laughed at his quip before getting into a conversation of their own. And with your parents not paying full attention to the three of you, your sister decided to slip in another comment.

“High stamina and being aggressive?” she shot Mat a look and deviously raised her eyebrows, “I’m sure Y/N likes that.”

Mat spat his water back into the glass and started uncontrollably coughing into the crook of his elbow at the same time you dropped the metal silverware loudly on the ceramic plate.

Your parents paused their conversation, and your dad looked between you and Mat, “Everything alright?”

Mat held up his thumb as he still coughed, and you nodded your head frantically, stuck in a daze that your sister had the guts to say that at a family dinner.

“Everything’s fine,” your tone was high in pitch, but you knew your parents wouldn’t let the topic drop unless they got a verbal answer.

Your sister shot you a wink and a smug smirk as she nonchalantly picked up a few vegetables with her fork. And when you took a peak over at Mat, his face was redder than you had ever seen it. He could’ve played a full three periods of hockey, without any break time, and still wouldn’t be as red as he was now after your sister’s comment.

Luckily, the rest of dinner went without another crude, double meaning, comment from your sister. And when everyone was finished, it was all smiles and laughs as everyone pitched in to help. Mat teamed up with your mom on dish duty, taking it upon himself to wash the dishes. While you and your sister put the leftovers away, your dad wiped down the counters and swept the floor.

In no time, the kitchen was cleaned and everyone was off to the family room to relax, except you and Mat. A few of your high school friends decided to either stay local for college, or to move back to your hometown after graduation, and they were all very keen to meet up…Especially when you slipped it in that your boyfriend would be visiting with you.

You drove Mat’s car to the neighborhood bar where you had one too many nights where you couldn’t remember everything, but you knew they were all happy memories.

“So how many people are coming?” Mat asked as the two of you got out of his car and he locked the doors.

“Just a few,” you said as Mat came up next to you and slid his hand into yours, “You’re not nervous, are you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “They’re your friends.”

You rolled your eyes as you came up to the front entrance. Mat opened the door for you and you dropped his hand to walk through, “You’ll be fine,” you stressed, “They don’t pay too close attention to hockey if you’re worried about that.”

Mat playfully glared at you, “Were you nervous to meet Tito and the rest of my friends?”

Seeing the point he was trying to make, you offered him an apologetic smile, “You’re right, I’ll stop downplaying your nerves.”

He squeezed your hand and looked down at you, “Nothing to apologize about, I just want them to like me.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, “They’ll like you because I love you.”

At that sentence, Mat’s face lit up and he looked down at you with the kindest eyes, “I love you, too.”

It had only been a few weeks since the first I love you with Mat, but you knew you didn’t want to hear the words from anyone’s lips but his for the rest of your life.

Before you could get another word out, you distinctly heard one of your friends yell over the chatter of the bar, “With twenty-two goals and sixty-three assists during his rookie season, there’s the 2018 Calder Trophy winner!”

Mat’s face turned red as he looked down at you, “They don’t pay close attention to hockey, eh?”

You dropped his hand and softly punched his bicep, “I bet they have Wikipedia open right now.”

Mat threw his head back with laughter as he followed behind you to the table your friends currently occupied. You introduced everyone to Mat and he easily fell into conversation with them. It warmed your heart to see your friends taking so kindly to your boyfriend.

Even when Mat tried to decline your friends buying him drinks, they didn’t listen to him. One after the other, they walked up to the bar and always came back with two drinks in their hands.

“Now this one,” your friend Tyler pointed a finger at you, “Stood up on that bar,” his finger moved away from you and pointed at the packed bar counter, “And sang Dancing Queen at the top of her lungs when it came on for karaoke.”

You hid your face in the crook of Mat’s neck and his arm that was around your waist tightened as his chest shook with laughter, “The ABBA song?”

“Stole the show,” Tyler chuckled at the memory.

You lifted your head up from Mat’s shoulder, “In my defense, it was the first time I was of legal drinking age and I was having fun.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done that before when you weren’t of legal drinking age.” Your other friend, Paige, said as she laughed before taking a sip of her drink.

“What?” Mat continued to laugh as he looked down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Even though you were embarrassed by your friends sharing stories that you only half-remembered, you couldn’t help but reciprocate Mat’s smile.

“We have a ton to fill you in on mister NHL-er,” Tyler clapped Mat’s shoulder with his hand and then got off his seat, “What are you drinking? I’ll buy.”

With everyone jumping at the chance to buy Mat a drink, he knew that arguing to pay for his own would be futile. So Mat said a simple, surprise me, and Tyler was off to the bar. Mat had gravitated to talking a lot with Tyler, who actually knew a lot more about hockey than you originally thought, so when he was gone, your friends jumped in on the chance to get to know him more.

And with Mat’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his thumb slowly rubbing circles into your side, you stared up at him in admiration. You had only been home for a day, but everything was going even more perfect than you imagined.

The night ended a few hours later, with you and Mat denying any drinks that were offered to you both after Tyler brought him his ‘surprise’ drink. Sober enough to drive the five minutes back to your house, Mat kept his hand in yours the whole way home.

It was only a quarter past midnight, and you were sure your sister was still up, but the two of you still entered as silent as possible. The two of you tiptoed up the stairs, and came to your room, which was closest to the stairs. Unfortunately for Mat, the guest bedroom was across the hall from your parents room.

Mat held both of your hands in his, eyes locked on your fingers that he played with, as you admired the small smile dancing on his face.

“I had fun tonight,” he whispered.

Your smile widened, “I had fun too,” you squeezed his hands, and he picked his eyes up to stare at you, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“I think your parents like me,” he tried to hide his smirk, but failed miserably when you let out a soft chuckle, “They probably think I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You scoffed, “You’re getting cocky.”

Mat raised his eyebrows at you, “But am I the best boyfriend you’ve ever had?” His confidence was nothing new to you, but your mouth still dropped as he left you speechless. Mat’s smile widened, “That’s what I thought.”

You dropped one of his hands and whacked his chest, “You’re ridiculous.”

His laughter slowly faded away and the two of you were left standing outside your childhood bedroom door in silence. You so desperately wanted to tug on his hand and tell him to follow you into your room, but you knew he wouldn’t go against your parents wishes under their roof. While he acted a bit egotistical just moments ago about having your parents approval, you knew he was still terrified of them; especially of your father.

Slowly, he brought a hand up to cup your face, and let his fingers trail down your cheek. With his index finger placed under your chin, he tilted your head back so you had nowhere else to look but at his eyes.

His eyes were your favorite thing about him. Whether they were glazed over in the morning just after he woke up, slightly squinted in frustration as a penalty was called on him, or screwed tight when he laughed…His eyes were the first thing you fell in love with.

“I love you,” he whispered the exact phrase that was playing on repeat in your head.

“I love you more.”

Mat slightly laughed as he trapped your lips in an innocent kiss. You had trouble kissing him back with the smile on your lips.

He pulled away, his forehead against yours, as his eyes shined bright in the pitch black hallway, “Not a chance.”

You ignored his statement, because while you two could stand in this hallway and debate on who loved each other more until the sun came up, if Mat claimed to love you more…Than that meant the love he had for you was infinite considering how much you loved him. And it filled you with nothing but happiness.

You leaned forward and pressed another small kiss to his lips, “Goodnight, Mat.”

And for the third time that night, you felt his lips against yours. He pulled back with a smile, “Night, Y/N.”

You placed a hand on the handle and pushed it down, but you watched Mat walk down the hallway and to the guest room before walking into the room where you used to dream of having a boyfriend as wonderful as Mat. After you finished your nighttime routine, you pulled your covers back and crawled into bed.

While you set your morning alarm on your phone, a text from Mat caused your phone to vibrate. A smile erupted on your face as you clicked on it to read.

Can’t wait to see you in the morning…Love you :)

Sometimes, when you and Mat didn’t sleep together at night, you found yourself struggling to fall asleep. But with his text message, and knowing that he was only a few doors down, you slept peacefully.

––

You woke up a few minutes before your alarm, ready to start a new day. And while you didn’t rush your morning routine, you definitely got ready faster than normal. Once you were satisfied with your look, you quietly stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed down to the guest bedroom. Mat liked to sleep in when he didn’t have morning skate or a game, so you expected him to be laying on his stomach, face buried in a pillow, with one leg sticking out from under the covers.

But when you cracked the door open a little, you were surprised to see the bed fully made with no Mat in sight.

A small hmpf escaped your lips as you checked your phone. But the last communication you had with him was when you responded to his goodnight text. Curious to find out where he had gone, you made your way downstairs.

When you walked into the kitchen, you saw your mom sitting at the island drinking tea, and your sister leaned up against the counter with a bowl of cereal.

But there was still no Mat.

“Has anyone seen Mat?”

Your sister looked up from her cereal and smirked, “Good morning to you too.”

With a roll of your eyes, you took a mug down from the cabinet, picked out a tea bag, and poured the water from the kettle that was still hot. Cupping your hands around the warmth of the mug, you glared at your sister, “Morning.”

“He and your dad went on a walk,” your mom answered.

Your hands tightened around the mug to keep it from dropping to the ground, “What?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Your sister let out a laugh as she shoveled a spoonful of cereal in her mouth, “He looked scared to death when dad asked him to go.”

Ignoring your sister, you looked over at your mom with wide eyes, silently asking her if your sister was telling the truth. Your mom’s bashful smile confirmed it, “He did look a little…uneasy.”

With a groan, you leaned your head back, “He is absolutely terrified of dad.”

“With reason.”

You elbowed your sister in her side and looked at your mom for some reassurance. She set her mug down, “Your father likes him, he just wants some time to get to know him more.”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed. From talking with your dad, you knew that he was fascinated by Mat, but no matter how many times you tried to reassure him…Mat never believed you. Maybe this walk would be good for him, you thought to yourself, maybe this is what Mat needs.

The more you talked to yourself, you started to feel better. That was until your sister decided to share her input.

“I wished him luck before he went. Told him if it didn’t go well to not forget to say bye as he hightailed it out.”

An aggravated breath left your lips as you turned to face her, “Would it kill you to––”

But you were cut off when you heard the door open and laughter fill the front of the house. Your ears perked up and your sister sent you a sly smirk.

When your dad and Mat walked into the kitchen, they were all smiles, and Mat didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. A smile instantly brightened up your face when you saw Mat. His hair was a bit unruly, but he looked soft in his gray New York Islanders sweatshirt and gym shorts. And when Mat made eye contact with you, he smiled.

He made his way through the kitchen and leaned up against the counter next to you. His hip touched yours, and you felt like it was a win considering it was the closest thing Mat had done to show any public displays of affection in front of your family.

“Morning,” Mat smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you reciprocated his smile, “Have a nice walk?”

He nodded proudly, but before he could get a word out, your father spoke up.

“Next time I’m in New York, Mat, let’s meet up for dinner or lunch.” Your father spoke so nonchalantly as he poured himself a cup of coffee that it made you choke on your tea, “I’ll buy.”

You looked between your dad and Mat with wild eyes.

Mat let out a laugh and tucked his hands in the front pockets of his sweatshirt, “That sounds nice. If you’re all ever in New York, let me know and I’ll get you tickets for a game.”

Your parents and sister started their own conversation and you bumped your hip against Mat’s, which caused him to look down at you. With your eyebrows raised high, you repeated your question, “Have a nice walk?”

“I think he pretended not to like me at first,” Mat whispered, “But then we talked about fishing, and then hockey, life,” he tilted his back and forth as he listed the topics of conversation, “you.”

“Me?”

A single breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nostrils, “Of course you were a topic of conversation.”

“And?”

Mat shrugged his shoulders and took the cup of tea out of your hands and took a sip for himself. He looked straight ahead as he brought the mug down from his lips, “He said he likes me.” A smile lit up your face, but before you could say I-told-you-so, Mat handed the tea back to you, “He also told me not to fuck it up.”

You let out a laugh as you leaned your forehead against his bicep. When your laughter calmed down, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “So far, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Oh, just a pretty good––”

“Hey, hockey player,” your sister cut Mat off, which caused both of you to pick your heads up to look at her. After a moment of silence, she wickedly smiled, “What’s your preferred alcohol of choice?”

“It’s literally not even nine in the morning,” you deadpanned.

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, but your sister defended herself, “It’s Saturday, I want to know in preparation for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mat’s voice sounded just as confused as his face.

You rolled your eyes, “She wants to sit around the fire pit outside and drink.”

“That sounds fun,” He looked at your sister with a smile, “I’m not too picky, whatever you have is fine.”

As the day continued, everything went more smoothly than you could’ve ever imagined. Mat clearly got along with your family, which made you happier than ever, and you walked around your hometown with him. While you loved the dynamic Mat was creating with your family, it felt nice to have some alone time with him. Especially when he slipped his hand into yours and pulled you close.

And when you were back at the house, and the sun was just starting to set after dinner was all cleaned up, your dad and Mat went to start the fire pit outside. You grabbed a few blankets, your mom made sure there were seats for everyone outside, and your sister grabbed the bottle of wine and glasses.

The fire crackled as you pushed the screen door forward to walk outside. You set the blankets down on the backs of one of the chairs as you made your way over to Mat, who was sitting on a little bench. With a little skip in your step, you walked over and plopped down next to him.

With your head on his shoulder, he threw an arm around you and pulled you in close. You pressed a single kiss to his jaw, “What’re you drinking?”

He shrugged, “Whatever your dad is having.”

“Show off,” you snorted.

Mat’s shoulders softly shook with laughter, “Need to keep impressing him.”

“You play professional hockey,” it was your sister’s voice that took both you and Mat out of your own little world. She came over and handed you a glass of wine, “You can just breathe and he’ll be impressed with you.”

Mat’s face turned red and you gladly took the wine from your sister, “She’s not really wrong,” you said to Mat.

“But I––”

The three of you stopped talking when you heard the squeak of the screen door open. All eyes were focused on your mom walking out with your dad not too far behind, with two glasses of liquor in his hands.

Your mom sat down in a chair, with your sister giving her a glass of wine too, and your dad walked toward you and Mat.

“Hope you like whiskey,” your dad chuckled as he handed Mat a glass.

Mat nodded in appreciation, “This is perfect, thank you.”

As everyone got settled in their seats, you threw the blanket over you and Mat, because you knew that would be the only way for Mat to feel comfortable holding your hand in front of your parents. And your assumption was correct. With the fire, and it being the beginning of April, a blanket felt perfect, but you liked the way his hand felt between yours more.

“He poured you whiskey over ice,” you smiled into your wine glass, “He loves you.”

Mat tried to conceal his smile, but you knew how much it meant to get the approval of your dad.

That night turned out to be one of your favorite night’s ever. Everyone had themselves a good time drinking, your sister eventually brought out her speaker and played music, and everyone––including Mat himself––had a good laugh when they heard him shamelessly singing along to Drops of Jupiter.

Nothing could compare to the bliss you felt in that moment, holding Mat’s hand under the blanket, as everyone had the time of their life.

–––

Sunday night came sooner than expected and that meant your little vacation was close to an end. Both you and Mat had to get back to New York, but your parents––especially your dad––encouraged the two of you to come back whenever you felt like it.

You were stood by your mom as your dad and Mat were kneeling next to his tires, checking the air pressure.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation between them, that you tuned out, they both stood up. Your dad wiped his hands on jeans, “They seem fine to me.”

Mat looked a bit embarrassed as he brought one of his hands to rub behind his neck, “Yeah…I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden the light started to blink…”

“No worries at all,” your dad said, “Better to be safe than sorry. If it happens again, there are a few gas stations before you hit the highway.”

Mat nodded with a closed lipped smile, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” He then looked over at you, “Ready?”

With a nod, you gave your mom one last hug and promised that you’d see her again soon. And just when you let go of your mom and turned around to walk to Mat’s car, you saw your dad and Mat shake hands, before your dad brought him in for a small hug.

Your dad placed a small clap on Mat’s back before pulling away, “Take care,” his eyes fell on you for a brief second, before looking back at Mat, “Alright?”

Understanding the underlying meaning of what your dad meant, Mat nodded his head firmly, “Always.”

After saying bye to your dad, you and Mat hopped in the car for the second time. And this time, whatever light started to blink wasn’t there, and the two of you pulled out of the driveway, with your parents waving.

“Told you you had nothing to worry about,” You turned to smile at him.

Mat rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

As he pulled up to a stop sign, you quickly leaned over and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, again, for coming. It really meant a lot to my parents.” Mat sat at the stop sign and turned toward you as your voice dwindled off with your next sentence, “And it meant a lot to me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Mat furrowed his eyebrows in seriousness, “And I had a really great time with your family.” He smiled as he picked up your hand, “I love you, you know.”

You squeezed his hand in appreciation, “I love––”

“Shit.”

A loud honk from behind––And Mat swearing––interrupted your sentence and it caused him to drop your hand, look both ways to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, and stepped on the gas pedal. You laughed at his face turning a deep shade of red as he slowed down his speed.

“It’s not funny.”

You leaned back in the seat and wiped a few tears from the corner of your eye, “It was so––you looked so scared––and you swore––”

“Whatever,” Mat grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face, that you knew he agreed with you that it was a little funny.

Once your laughing settled down, you finished your sentence, “I love you, too.”

With his eyes straight ahead on the road, Mat blindly picked your hand up and gave it a squeeze, “You better.”

And it was that moment that made you realize you didn’t want to say I love you to anyone else, except for Mat, for the rest of your life.

–––

The trees were bare as you drove down the streets of your hometown. Your windows were rolled up to keep the frigid December air outside; and the sun was hidden beneath an array of clouds, just like the nonexistent smile on your face. And when you looked both ways as you came to a stop sign, you were reminded that there wasn’t a person accompanying you in the passenger seat.

Part of you thought about cracking the windows open slightly, because letting in the brisk air would make you feel something other than the numbness that had made a home in the center of your chest recently.

You tried to ignore the sting behind your eyes, but trying your hardest to not focus on everything that had happened in the last few weeks caused your mind to do the exact opposite. In a matter of seconds, you were only thinking about everything that happened nearly two weeks ago. Your frown deepened because how did everything blow up in your face.

Nearly two weeks ago, Mat broke up with you.

For you, it felt like it came out of nowhere. But for Mat, he said that he had been feeling it for a few weeks. It started off with Mat cautiously bringing up how he felt like he didn’t see you enough, then to you defending your work schedule and how hockey had started back up again, and by the end of the night, you had failed to hold back your tears as Mat kept apologizing about how he felt like the two of you were “growing apart.”

You left his place before he could give you another reason as to why he didn’t want to be with you, and a day and a half later, when you made sure he was at hockey practice, you picked up your stuff from his place and left your key on his counter.

The loud honk of a car horn from behind didn’t phase you in the slightest.

Carefully, you checked to make sure there weren’t any cars at the all-way stop, and drove off. You weren’t too far from your parents house, and spent the rest of the drive on autopilot.

Soon enough, you were in front of your old house. With your hands gripping around the steering wheel, you screwed your eyes tight and inhaled a deep breath; I’m fine, you repeated the lie in your head as you exhaled, I’m fine.

With a few more breathing exercises, you decided it was time to face your family. Opening the car door felt like ripping off a band aid as you took your duffle bag out from the back seat.

Sluggishly, you walked up the driveway to the front door. And with another deep breath, you silently whispered “I’m fine” to yourself before placing your hand on the handle to open the door. The first thing you saw was your sister sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.

She looked up from her phone with a surprised face, “You’re here early.”

You mustered up the smallest of smiles, “There was barely any traffic.”

Hesitantly, she nodded her head because she didn’t buy your lie. And she was right not to because you had requested the day off from work so you could get out of New York and to your family as soon as possible. Even though it was one of the most populated cities in the world, you felt suffocated by the thought of potentially running into Mat at any given time.

You needed out of the city like he wanted out of the relationship.

“How are––Are you––You know…” Your sister stumbled over her words, backtracking every time she was about to ask how you were because she knew the answer to that already. She apologetically smiled and itched the bridge of her nose, “Want a hug?”

You took an audible deep breath, and nodded, “Yeah.”

She kindly didn’t point out the way your voice cracked.

With her arms wrapped tightly around you, you squeezed her back as if you were about to fall off the Empire State Building. While your friends in the city had comforted you, there was nothing more comforting than a hug from a family member in a time of distress.

When she felt your grasp around her loosen, she took a step back, but kept her hands on your shoulder, “Do you want water? Or some tea?”

You shook your head and politely declined her offer, “I think I’m gonna put my stuff in my room and then come down.”

She nodded her head with a small smile and you turned around to head up the stairs.

Trudging up the stairs felt like it took too much energy than it should have, but you reasoned with yourself that between driving and being emotionally exhausted…It was fine to feel winded walking up the stairs.

You pushed open the door to your childhood bedroom, dropped your bag on the floor, and went straight to your bed. Unpacking your clothes could wait a few minutes.

Your head was buried into your pillows, the comforting scent of your childhood surrounded you, as you let out a shaky breath. Everything is fine, you repeated, I’m fine. But the more you kept saying the little mantra, the more you felt your throat tighten and the stinging behind your eyes intensify.

No, you scolded yourself as you sat up on your bed, no crying.

So you did your best to distract yourself; you decided to unpack. You absolutely hated to unpack your belongings, especially since you were only going to be home for the weekend, but you hated wrinkled clothing more. And that was your motivation to hang up all of your articles of clothing.

You had just finished hanging up your last sweater, but had let go of it too soon, so the sweater fell to the floor. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you bent down to pick it up, but something blue in the back of your closet caught your eye.

Holding your breath, you hadn’t seen that shade of navy blue in a few weeks.

With shaky hands, and your fallen sweater long forgotten, you grabbed the sweatshirt that was pushed in the back of your closet. And once you brought it out into the light, you sucked in a deep breath, because your thoughts were confirmed when you saw the familiar Islanders logo on the front.

It was as if that sweatshirt was the final key. The final key to unlocking the heart wrenching memory of the day that the relationship you thought would last forever…ended. All you could do was clutch the sweatshirt in your fist and remember.

You remembered the painful sting in your chest when you first arrived at his place and he slightly moved out of the way when you went in for a hug.  

You remembered the lightheadedness you felt when you realized that your worst fear was suddenly starting to become a reality.

You remembered the ringing in your ear when he asked if you felt it too.

“Feel what?” The words barely came out.

“This,” Mat stood at the other side of the kitchen as he gestured his hands between the two of you, “This-–This space. This disconnect.” You were left speechless as he rubbed his face with his hands, it didn’t look like he was enjoying himself having this conversation with you, and that left you even more confused.

“What––Where is this coming from?”

Mat was a very perceptive person, but he ignored the way your hands slightly shook in panic and how your breaths grew shallower.

“I’ve been feeling it for a few weeks,” he confessed in a strained voice, “We’re growing apart––I never see you anymore––”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, “Never see me? You––You just came back from a God knows how long road trip from the west coast!” You waited to see if he had anything to say, but he didn’t. “I work a typical nine to five job, I have time for you. But you––Hockey is––”

“Hockey’s what?” Mat’s voice was challenging as he carried himself across the kitchen to you. He narrowed his eyes, “Want to finish that sentence?”

With a sigh, you took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut. This is not happening, you repeated in your head, This can absolutely not be happening.

You opened your eyes and tried your best to remain calm, even though on the inside you could feel your soul shatter. And it would only take one vicious sentence from him to break absolutely everything inside of you.

“I don’t want to fight,” you took a deep breath because you knew whichever way this discussion went, a fight was bound to happen, “But I have time for you. I make time for you. I know hockey is demanding, I know it’s not a typical job, but if we both work at it, we can make more time for each other.”

“What time?” Mat let out an irritated laugh. You wanted to believe that he wasn’t irritated at you, and that he was irritated at hockey instead, but with his earlier confession of disconnection, you didn’t know what to believe.

“You just complained about me being gone for an extended amount of time.”

You picked at a loose piece of skin by your thumb, “I did, yes–—I know.” You let out a shaky breath, “But we talked, we FaceTimed, we kept up that connection.” You pleaded with him, “What do you––What can I do?”

The anger washed away from his face and you saw that it was replaced with remorse.

With his eyes casted downward, he frowned, “Is there…Is there anything left to do?”

You were left stunned at his ease of abandoning your relationship. In the time you had known Mat, he was never a quitter. He never gave up on anything he was passionate about, even with the trivial things that he didn’t quite care about, he always saw them through. He was an athlete…He never gave up on anything.

So why was he giving up on you?

When you took a step back, he whipped his head up to look at you. His eyes were red; full of pain and heartache as if he wasn’t the one surrendering. He took a step toward you, but like a dance, you took another step back.

“Mat, we’ve been together for over a year,” your voice wavered at the thought of all those months with him dissipating into nothing, “What is happening.”

His best response was to keep silent and shrug his shoulders.

Reality hit you like a ton of bricks. This is it, you thought to yourself, I’m losing the most important person in my life. A tear rolled down your cheek as you let out a hiccup from trying to hold your breath to stop the scratchiness in the back of your throat. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth.

“I hate seeing you cry,” he whispered softly.

“Then why––why are you doing this?”

Mat ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath as he leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, “It’s holding me back. Everything is just––I can feel it affecting me and it’s not what I want––”

You heard his reasons differently though, instead of ‘it’s’, you heard ‘you.’

You’re holding me back.

You’re affecting me.

You’re not what I want.

All while you felt your relationship was stronger than ever, Mat felt like it was falling apart at the seems.

“I’m sorry,” Mat sniffled, “I’ll always love you, but––”

You shook your head, “You––No.” You brought both hands up to rub away your tears, but when you dropped your arms down at your sides, the tears you washed away reappeared. “You can break up with me, this relationship can be over, whatever.” You glared at him, “But you cannot say that.”

Mat scoffed, “Say that I love you?” You nodded angrily as Mat flared his nostrils, “But I do! I can’t help that this is how I feel about our relationship now, but I loved you then and I love you now! Things just aren’t working now––”

“While I don’t like what I’m hearing, I’ll respect your feelings,” you choked out, “but you need to respect mine and not say those words to me.”

“I want you to know that I still feel love for you,” his voice trembled, “That I’ll always––”

“Then why are you quitting on us?!”

“Because I feel like I never see you!” Mat threw his hands up in the air, “Sure, we can love each other, but what about the actual connection of a relationship? Furthering something that we can make a future out of?”

“I’m always here for you in New York when you get back,” you clenched your jaw, “We see each other as often as possible between our schedules! What do you––Do you want me to come out to away games?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Because while I wish I could be at every one of your games, I can’t. I have a job. Just like you have a job––”

Mat scoffed, “So it all comes back to hockey?”

“Maybe if you put in a bit more effort, you wouldn’t feel this way.” You fired back.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” your voice softened when you saw his eyes betray him for a moment. Instead of the fiery eyes that burned through you like a wildfire, you saw eyes that looked one sentence away from breaking a dam of tears. And while you wanted him to feel every ounce of betrayal and heartbreak that you were going through, there was a piece of your heart that still loved him too much to put him through that kind of pain.

So instead, you said what you were feeling, which had the possibility to cause the same damage if you had just berated him.

“If hockey is your one true love in life, then that’s great,” you failed miserably at faking a smile, “I’m happy for you. Happy that you found something you can fully commit to and put in effort to make work even when it would just be easier to quit.”

Mat almost reached a hand out to you, but brought it back down to his side after a second thought, as he softly shook his head and whispered, “You know that’s not true–-”

“But it is,” you wiped away dry tears from your cheek with the heel of your palm, “And it’s…Whatever. It’s whatever, but if you don’t put that same effort into your relationships with people––If you don’t prioritize the right things in life––then you’ll end up alone and unloved.”

Mat stood frozen in the middle of his kitchen. And when he snapped out of whatever trance he was under, all he could manage was to shake his head as a single tear fell down his cheek, “You know I’d do anything for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “I’m not asking you to give up hockey. I’d never do that because I know how happy it makes you and it’s your career,” you gave him a weak smile because the realization set in, “But I think that last sentence is a lie.”

“I just––” Mat pinched the bridge of his nose, “Something is off, we’re not the same––”

You shook your head, tuning out more reasons why the man you loved more than life itself didn’t want to be with you anymore. You walked over to where your bag hung over the back of a chair, picked it up, and then walked toward the front door for your shoes.

“Where are you going?”

Once your shoes were securely on, you turned to face him one last time. He looked as if he also couldn’t believe that this relationship was over, even though he was the one who pulled the trigger. His mouth was slightly agape, eyebrows raised in anxiousness, and eyes filled to the brim with tears.

“Home,” you said matter-of-factly, “I really don’t want to hear more reasons why I wasn’t enough.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry––”

You were out the door before he finished his sentence.

“Y/N,” a voice pulled you out of the nightmare that was doomed to play on repeat in your mind for the rest of your life, “Y/N?”

You blinked a few times to see your mom kneeling in front of you. She had a hand placed on your thigh and her eyes were filled with concern. But when her eyes flicked down to what you were clutching on for dear life in your hands, her face dropped as she looked back up at you, “Oh, sweetie…”

“I’m fine,” you sniffled as you itched your cheek. But when you scratched your skin, your cheek felt damp, and upon further inspection of wiping away the wet substance on your cheek, it dawned on you that you were crying.

“Y/N…” your mother repeated your name cautiously, expecting you to hit your tipping point soon.

With a shake of your head, you folded the sweatshirt up. But with the way your hands shook, the folding wasn’t even and the sleeve poked out a bit, so you unfolded the sweatshirt just to re-fold it again, “I’ll donate this somewhere.” The sweatshirt was still uneven, so you refolded it again, “I’m sure someone would buy it fast, it––It’s in good condition––”

Your mom tried to take the sweatshirt away, but you tugged it back toward your chest, refolding it again.

“New York teams are pretty––pretty popular,” you let out a hiccup as your vision started to blur, “I––maybe I can bring this back with me? Give it away as a birthday present?” Your chin wobbled as you felt your breathing come out uneven, “It’ll make someone happy, right?”

Your mom gently grabbed you by the wrist to stop your folding of Mat’s sweatshirt. Sitting on the floor, by the edge of your closet in defeat, you clenched your jaw tight as you sucked in a deep breath. Finally, you looked up at your mom through your teary vision and tried to sniffle away your runny nose.

“It’ll make someone as happy as he made me.”

She didn’t have to say anything for you to bring his sweatshirt––one that still smelled like him––up to your face as you openly sobbed.

You had been in other relationships, loved other people, been upset when those relationships ended…But you had never loved someone as much as you loved Mat. You thought that Mat was your forever––the person that the universe specifically made just for you––But you lost him.

Your mom wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into her chest. Easily, you fell into her and continued to cry as you clutched the last remaining piece you had of him close to your chest. Your mom didn’t say anything as she cradled you; she knew that no words could mend this feeling of cataclysmic heartbreak, so she simply offered you her presence and a shoulder to cry on.

“I––Mom, what did I do wrong?” While your words were muffled in his sweatshirt, she heard you loud and clear, and it broke her heart.

She shushed you as she ran a hand up and down your spine, “You did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing…”

“But he––We’re not––I thought that he was the one,” you peered up from the sweatshirt, eyes puffy and irritated from crying, to see tears welled up in your mom’s eyes. You wanted to ask her why she was crying, but an all too familiar pain ripped through your chest as you let out a whine, “Mom.”

Again, she brought you back into her chest and held you close.

“I––I told him he would end up alone and––and unloved,” you tried to speak through the tears, but your erratic breathing made it hard to get a full sentence out without it sounding chopped up.

She shook her head, “We all say things when we’re upset.”

“No, I––I told him that because I––I don’t want anyone else to love him,” you let out a whimper, “I wanted to be…Want to be the only person who loves him like that.” You blinked a few times to look up at your mom and frowned when you saw her tear stained cheeks, “Why are you crying?”

Your mom let out a small laugh and wiped under her eyes “I feel every heartache you go through,” she sniffled and tried her best to offer you a reassuring smile, “If he couldn’t recognize how great of a person you are, then you’ll find someone else who will.”

“But he’s the only one,” you sat up, continued to hug his sweatshirt close to your chest, and reciprocated her sad smile, “I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else.”

Knowing that the heartache you felt was still fresh, your mom knew that no matter how much she tried to convince you that you would find someone else, it would be useless. “I know,” she swiped her thumb under your eye, catching the last of your tears, “Why don’t you take a nap, I’ll come up when it’s dinner.”

You nodded and made your way over to your bed. Once you were under your covers, the blankets tucked right under your chin, your mom shut off your lights and softly closed the door.

While you should’ve knocked out in a few seconds, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mat listing reason after reason why he didn’t want to be with you. Your own personal hell. So, while your eyes stung from crying your heart out, you kept them wide open as you stared at the ceiling out of fear of what you would see when they closed.

A few hours had passed and there was a knock on your door. You let out a small, come in, and saw your dad walk in.

Slowly, you sat up, wiping away a few stray tears, and let out a chuckle when he placed a glass down on your nightstand, “Whiskey over ice?”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “The best cure for what you’re going through.”

For what you’re going through, he said it as if he was still in denial of your break up. Which was fair, because you had never seen your dad warm up so fast to one of your boyfriends.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, “If you’re feeling up for it.”

You smiled in appreciation, “Thanks, but I’m not too hungry…Might try to sleep some more.” Your dad raised his eyebrows, “I’ll eat in the middle of the night when I wake up, promise.”

He smiled and gave in to your promise as he retreated toward the door. He was halfway out when he decided to stick his head back in, “You know, I never really liked him.”

It was the first genuine laugh you had let out in weeks. Because both of you knew how much of a lie that was.

Whenever your dad was in New York, he texted Mat and they would meet up for a meal or drinks, and sometimes they wouldn’t include you in plans. Your dad never missed an Islander’s game, and for his birthday, Mat had gifted your dad a signed Barzal jersey as a joke. They had their own relationship, and in turn, it contributed to the happiness you felt with Mat.

But nonetheless, your dad was always on your team.

After his comment, he slowly shut the door like your mom had done earlier, and this time, you really did try your best to sleep.

Sleep had been impossible since Mat broken things off with you. It took everything in you not to call his number and have him talk you to sleep most nights. And you wished that deleting his number would be enough, because even if you had deleted it, you had it memorized and could easily dial his number with your eyes closed.

But with his sweatshirt that you still held close to body, sleep came a little easier.

PART TWO

[drmmyrs]

Remember Me (Becca x MC) Part 2

Hiii I’m back. Sorry again for the delay 😬I had such a hard time writing the ending so thank you so much @samanthadalton for all your help 😘Also, a big thanks to M anon for their suggestions and song request which I used some of.

tag list: @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs @doey-eyes8 @itszdavenport (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Read Part 1

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 2289

It's been an hour since Emily last came into my room to remind me of my doctor's appointment. And it's been about thirty minutes since I've been ready to go, physically at least. Naturally, I tried to get Chris to come with me instead because he's my boyfriend, right? Ughh fine, ex-boyfriend. But can you blame me, though? How am I suppose to move on when I literally have no memory of some sort of breakup or closure? I stare at the dull beige-colored ceiling, a view which has me panicking in the mornings right after I wake up, before I remember that I don't live at the sorority house anymore. I then close my eyes and get comfort in the memories I have left, my only anchor on the reality I knew, away from this freakish place with the people I don't even give a shit about.

After a couple more minutes, I begrudgingly get up with a groan and trudge downstairs, finding Emily waiting on the couch. She smiles upon seeing me, but I don't return the gesture, being genuinely annoyed at the prospect of having to spend an incessant amount of time with her. So instead, I walk past her towards the door, my heels clattering on the wooden surface. Emily then follows behind me from a distance, careful not to invade my space. Once outside, I walk straight towards the passenger door of Emily's junk of a car, grabbing the handle as I glare at Emily impatiently, waiting for her to unlock it. As soon as unlocked, I sink into the seat, slamming the door close harder than I intended. Emily, though, takes a second before going in, eyeing the seat suspiciously as if it might shatter anytime. Once seated, she places her hand on the gear stick, slightly trembling. And then it dawns on me, I may have forgotten about the accident, but it's probably still fresh from her memory, terrorizing her at every reminder. All this time, I've been complaining about how unfair everything is for me, not once considering how it may have affected her.

"Who was driving?" I ask. It may not be the best thing to talk about right now, but I have to know.

I see Emily flinch at the question, and before she even opens her mouth, I know. She looks out the windshield, her voice cracking when she replies, "I was."

I nod. My mom told me it was a drunk driver running a red light that hit us, so I don't blame her at all, not anymore.

"Is it–" The words come out sharp, so I stop and soften my voice. "Is it the first time you drove since?"

Emily doesn't reply immediately; instead, she shifts the gear and steps on the gas pedal as we begin to make our way towards the hospital. She grips the steering wheel tightly, anxiously looking at the road, her eyes obsessively sweeping for any oncoming traffic at every intersection.

"No. No it's not but..." Emily trails off, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

But it's her first time to drive with me in the car. I turn my head to look out the window, knowing full well I can't ease her fears. How can I when I'm the living reminder of everything she lost?

---------

I immediately regret my outfit choice as soon as we get into the waiting room, the frigid temperature biting at my skin, sending sharp pains like that of a needle across my exposed skin. I try to play it cool, but a shiver escapes my body, desperate for any source of heat. A few seconds later, a jacket appears in front of me, held by Emily who is wearing an annoyingly cute little smile on her face. I mumble thanks and take the jacket, placing it over my shoulders, smelling the scent of lavender as I bask in the comfort of heat.

I take out my phone and browse my socials, catching up on all the events I missed–or forgotten–while ignoring the get well soon messages from both people I know and don't know that have been piling up ever since the accident. A few minutes later, the doctor calls my name, and as I stand up, Emily does as well but then sits back down almost immediately, clearly unsure if her company is welcome.

I roll my eyes. "Come on."

---------

After a useless consultation–apparently, they can't do much to help me regain my memories–Emily suggests we stop by an ice cream parlor not far from here. I assent, but only because I need the comfort of a sugary snack right now, and it's been ages since I had one, or at least I think so.

We reach a store I don't recognize, replacing an office space that, while I never paid attention to before, was a pleasant fixture in my reality, not this... eyesore. I shake my head; I can't keep living in the past. I follow Emily into the store, reminding myself that this is my reality now.

Inside, the floor is patterned with alternating pink and black tiles, and the walls are coated with somewhat fresh pink paint adorned with decors that scream ice cream as if one might stumble into the shop looking for lunch or something.

"Welcome t–ah Emily and Becca! I haven't seen you girls in a while."

I turn around to see a guy, probably in his mid-twenties– smiling at us like...  I shoot Emily a side-eye. She, of course, fails to mention that the guy working here is buddy-buddy with me. So, is this the kind of couple we were? Those who frequent an ice cream parlor enough to be on a first-name basis with the ice cream guy? I internally groan in disgust at the thought.

"–Becca." I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear my name. Emily and the ice cream guy are looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry I didn't hear," I mumble.

"You'll be having strawberry, your usual, correct?" says the guy with a wide smile.

I do want strawberry, but I shake my head and say, "Vanilla," just to spite him, annoyed how some stranger knows my favorite ice cream flavor.

"Ooh, trying something new today, are we? One rocky road and vanilla coming right up," he announces in an annoyingly high pitch voice. I struggle not to roll my eyes.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, which is met by a look of confusion followed by a laugh.

"You know wh–" 

Emily quickly interjects, "The bathroom's there, Becca," pointing at a door at the back of the store.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, heading straight towards the mirror. I stare at my reflection, nitpicking every tiny detail that has changed throughout the years, changes I don't recognize at all. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away. I'm Rebecca fucking Davenport; I don't cry. I grip the sink tightly, overcome with a new resolution. I know who I am; they don't, convincing myself more than anyone else.

Once finishing up in the bathroom, I head back outside, noticing a different aura in the room. Emily is holding our orders with an apologetic look while the ice cream guy regards me with pity, something I've grown used to in the past few weeks. I take my ice cream from Emily, not meeting her gaze, and walk out of the store, striding ahead of her towards the car, not once looking back.

--------

On the ride home, silence weighs heavily between us as Emily bites at her lower lip, either contemplating what to say or waiting for me to go off on her. After an awkward amount of time, Emily finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry I–"

"Forget about it," I cut her off, too exhausted to engage with her. I think about the previous encounter, wondering if that would be my norm. Unfamiliar people coming up to me, sharing inside jokes and anecdotes while I stare blankly at them, wondering if I should explain my situation or just ignore them, being the bitch I know I am. I stare out the window, seeing all the changes in the city, musing about the memories I may have had alongside them, memories that I may or may not recover. It's as if an impostor had been living my life for the past two years, and now I'm forced to follow in their footsteps. It's obvious I had changed a lot during those years, my previous enemies becoming my closest friends, my greatest rival supposedly becoming the love of my life. Was she the love of my life? Was I happy with Emily?

It's already dark outside when we arrive home. I notice a few cars parked down the road, something unusual considering this is the only house for at least a couple of blocks. What do I know, though, it's not like I remember much about this place. I turn my attention back to the house; the lights inside are turned off, leaving a lone street lamp and the car's headlights as the primary sources of light, accentuating the jagged grey bricks of the house, almost giving an appearance of something sinister. This is ridiculous; I chide myself for being scared of a stupid house. 

Emily walks ahead towards the door while I follow a few steps behind. As soon as I walk inside, the light turns on, and I'm greeted by a chorus of surprise echoing throughout the house, coming from people whom I only recognize half of. I stare at them blankly, unimpressed but just mostly confused. My mother walks over to me and gives me a big hug.

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

Birthday? I inconspicuously look at my phone. Huh. I could've sworn I've seen the date today at least a few times. A few moments later, Emily steps forward with a cake in her hands.

"Happy birthday babe," she says, immediately followed by a look of horror. "Becca. Sorry."

Of course Emily had planned this. It doesn't really matter if I wanted to have a stupid party. She had to go ahead and decide for me.

"Go ahead and blow out the candles," my mom urges.

I blow out the candles, faking a smile for my mom. As much as I want to storm into my room, I'm not about to break my mom's heart by causing some unnecessary drama.

--------

Just a few moments into the party, and I'm already exhausted–people lining up to greet me, asking how I've been doing since the accident. I realize that most people here don't know about my condition, which means I have had to engage in quite a few conversations about the things I've supposedly been doing for the past few years, things I have no recollection of, to which I gave vague answers to avoid having to explain everything. 

I down my fourth glass of virgin cuba libre, eyeing the display of alcohol with contempt, resentful that I can’t drink because of the medicine I took earlier, when Zack drags me across the room to play some truth or dare with a bunch of people, some of whom I don't recognize. Thankfully, if there was one thing the sorority has taught me, it's that you don't have to know someone to ask the right questions or expertly avoid the common ones. That is of course until someone asks you the most unexpected question.

"Do you have a date for the wedding yet?"

I stare at them blankly, fumbling for words. Wedding? 

"I–I–"

But before I can make up an answer, Kaitlyn arrives with Emily in tow, and that's when I notice it, the ring on Emily's finger. I gasp for breath, feeling like the air is taken out of my lungs. And I almost don't notice it when Kaitlyn takes out her guitar and starts singing, joined by the others.

When all the tears are rolling down your face And it feels like yours was the only heart to break When you come back home and all the lights are out And you're getting used to no one else being around

Oh, oh, I'll be there

I look at the unfamiliar faces, singing their hearts out, gazing at me fondly. I then turn my gaze to Emily's ring finger, and sitting on it is a small but glistening diamond and part of me chastises myself for not noticing earlier. I feel the entire room’s eyes on me and suddenly, it becomes too much for me to withstand. I stand up, scrabbling to go to my room, footsteps following behind me. Once I got on the stairs, Emily shouts my name from behind, and I stop at the sound of her voice, turning around.

"We were engaged? Why didn't you tell me?" My voice comes out harsher than expected and it seems to take Emily by surprise too because she just stands there motionless, speechless. “Marriage is a big thing Emily, that’s not something you can just conveniently not tell me.” I let out a frustrated groan, momentarily letting the anger wash all over me before I’m left with a bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sick of having random people tell me things about my life which I can’t even remember when my own fianc–” I stop, not even being able to say the word, shaking my head as the agony brought by my predicament proves to be too much. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry," I croak before running towards my room, slamming the door behind me. I then curl myself in bed as the tears fall freely.

[dirtyoatmeall]

All it takes is one moment (Atsumu x reader)

A/N: uhhh sorry for dropping off the face of the earth!! I have a million WIPs I’ll hopefully be posting here shortly! I was reading a bunch of cheesy hurt/comfort fics last night and decided to make my own hehe, tbh it got me thinking of doing another one but no comfort and it turning into a slow burn with another character :0 Please read the warnings, this is Post-Timeskip, so spoilers for occupations. Everyone is probably like 25ish here? Also I apologize in advance for their accents, I tried in a few spots, I’m still getting used to it. (also @spiritofthescarletwoods I know you wanted to be tagged in the midoriya angst I promised a million years ago, but here’s some tsumu angst for now!)

Genre: Hurt/comfort or Angst with a happy ending

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader (uhmm pronouns I believe are gn but I do not proof read as we all know)

Word Count: 4.?k

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationships, insinuation of cheating, slight misogynistic vibes for a moment, crude language, Atsumu is mean :( (Probably OOC Osamu and Atsumu), Post-time skip ((Let me know if I need to add something!)

_

You and Atsumu have been together for about 3 years now, and it was great. The two of you were very much in love, supported each other, and rarely fought, as you tried to be as open and communicate as much as possible. The last relationship you were in was toxic and abusive, it took a long time for you to be yourself again, and Atsumu had supported you along the way, he knew what had happened, and he swore to never make you feel like that again. And he stuck by that, until today.

Even though you rarely fought, when you did, it was resolved quickly, but this time was not the same. It had started off small. You had an important event coming up for work, you would be presenting on your year long research project, having made big findings in your field work. It was a huge deal for you, but when you brought it up at dinner, Atsumu did not have the same opinion.

“What do you mean you can’t make it? Everything I’ve been working on had led up to this, this is a career changing presentation, and you don’t want to go?” Hurt was clearly evident in your voice, as was frustration. Atsumu sighed, he’d had a horrible week, there was a big game coming up with the Adler’s and he needed to be prepared. “Like I said, I have practice that night, You can tell me all about it when you get home. I don’t see why you’re making a big fuss ‘bout it, ‘s just a presentation babe.” You furrowed your eyebrows looking at him incredulously.

“Did you not listen to anything I just said? It’s not just a presentation, this is my career Atsumu. I consistently put my own work aside to support you, why can’t you do the same for me? It’s not like I’m asking you to miss a game, it’s a practice.”  You could tell he was getting frustrated, but so were you, you made it a point to make every single game of his, missing out on work opportunities to come support him, him refusing to come to something so important was hurtful, and made you feel like you were less important than him, but before you could voice your feelings Atsumu spoke.

“This isn’t jus’ any practice. We have a big game comin’ up, it's important I’m there, ‘m the setter. Let's be real here, we both know which of us is the bread-maker in this household. This is basically a little hobby of yours, you can come back to it at any time. I’m a professional athlete hun, there’s only so much time I have before retirement.” He spoke in a condescending manner that baffled you. He’s never spoken to you like that before, is that how he really felt about your work? You scoffed, rising from the dinner table.

“Are you fucking kidding me, do you know condescending and frankly, misogynistic that was?” He sighed and rolled his eyes as he followed you with his plate, dinner half eaten and cold much like yours. “Here you go again” He muttered, though loud enough for you to hear. You dropped your plate in the sink and you looked at him, eyes wide, and furious.

“What did you just say to me? Here I go again? What the fuck does that mean Atsumu?” He set his plate on the counter, looking at you from across the island as he gripped the countertop. “What I mean is that yer always playing the victim, we get it, you last relationship was shitty, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like this all the time, I thought you got over it?”

You balked at him, was he serious right now? “Oh my god really? Are you seriously asking me if I got over an abusive relationship, after everything I’ve told you about it? After everything I had to do to get where I am now? We are supposed to support each other, I didn’t realize it was one sided.” Atsumu sighed, growing more frustrated, he tried to interrupt you, but you kept going, 

“All I wanted was for you to come to one dinner, after the years we’ve been together I haven’t asked you to miss any games or practices for my work, you know my coworkers have asked if I’m single? They didn’t believe me when I told them I was in a relationship, and you know what? I don’t blame them, I wouldn’t believe me either, since they’ve never seen you, and I take all this time off to travel and support you, all of your team know who I am, why is it so hard for you to do the same?”

As you kept going, his anger only grew, he tried interrupting you again, but it was like you weren’t paying attention to him, just spouting off whatever came to your head, and he was tired of it. 

He slammed his hand on the counter, the sound reverberating throughout the apartment. You flinched, hard, but Atsumu didn’t seem to notice. “Can you just shut up for one moment? God, all you do is go on and on nagging on how what I do isn’t enough, I pay the bills here, why isn’t that enough for you? I could care less about what’s going on at your job, I have absolutely no interest in it at all, when will you get that through your fucking skull? I. don’t. care.” By the time he was done his knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the counter, and you had tears in your eyes. You sucked in a breath, steeling yourself.

“Ok, I’m going to remove myself from the situation, I’ll be at your brothers, you can come get me when you pull your head out of your ass.” He rolled his eyes as you strode past him, getting your purse from the hook and going to slip on your shoes. “Yeah go ahead, you gonna wet his dick for ‘im too? ‘m sure he’ll love that.” You stiffened for a moment, putting your shoes on before looking at him, tears making your vision blurry.

“Y’know I tell myself that this isn’t like last time, that you’re not him, but at times like this-“ Your voice cracked as a sob bubbled into your throat and you shook your head, turning and heading out the door. Atsumu flinched at your words and the soft click of the door latching, he would’ve preferred to hear it slam.

Your walk to the elevator was blurry but you knew the way by heart after living there for so long. You wiped at your eyes as you pulled out your phone, tapping on the contact before bringing the phone to your ear. It rang once before it picked up, a tired “hello?” coming from the other end. You let out a quiet sob as you loaded the elevator, trying to get the words to come out. Upon hearing you, Osamu spoke again, “(Y/N)? Are you crying? What’s wrong.” You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before speaking, your voice tight. “Hey ‘samu, can, can I come to your place? ‘tsumu and I- we-'' you broke out into another sob, and you could hear Osamu close a door.

“Where are you? I’ll pick you up, I’m just leaving the restaurant I’m close.” After telling him where you were, you stayed on the phone, walking in the direction of the restaurant. Not long you see Osamu’s car pull up, he quickly gets out and looks you over and sighed as he brings you in for a hug. You sob into his jacket for a moment while he rubbed your back gently. He knew about your past as well, and figured it must have been bad for you to leave in tears. He leads you to the car and makes sure you’re strapped in before heading to the drivers side and getting in, double checking your seatbelt before driving towards his apartment.

The drive was short, though to you it felt like it lasted hours. You tried to quiet your sobs, not wanting to bother him. He looked over at you every so often, worry evident in his gaze as he tried to figure out just what his stupid brother did.

After arriving at his apartment, he sat you down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around you and giving you a box of tissues before sitting next to you, gently asking what happened. You try not to cry as you retell the events of the evening, though it got harder and harder as you told him what Atsumu said to you. By the time you were finished you were crying again, and Osamu was furious.

“I-I just don’t understand ‘samu, the things he said, did he really m-mean them? And-and when he slammed his hand on the counter, the look on his face, it, it was like I was back there all over again, like I never left. I-I know he’d never hurt me,” You sobbed out, throat getting tighter as you go on, “But at that moment, all I could think was that he was gonna hit me, and I, I had to leave, and what he said before I left,” You hiccupped and cried into your hands, not able to finish.

Osamu rubbed your back as you cried before getting up to make some tea. While the water was boiling he went into the other room, trying to calm himself down before calling his brother. The line rang three times before it was picked up, a frustrated “what do you want?” coming from the other end. It was enough to dwindle Osamu’s patience into nothing. He tried to keep his voice down, not wanting to distress you further.

“What do I want? Do you know how badly you fucked up? (Y/N) is here crying on my couch right now, do you know what she told me ‘tsumu? She told me she thought you were going to hit her. Are you fucking kidding me? Did you even think before you spoke, because from what she told me, it sounds like you didn’t. How dumb are you, after everything she’s gone through, the first big fight you have you send her running? Over a dinner? Really Atsumu?”

Atsumu groaned on the other line, “Exactly ‘samu, it’s a dinner, I have practice for the game against the Adler’s you know how big that is. She’ll have plenty of dinners for me to go to in the future. I don’t see why she got so upset over it. And she knows I didn’t mean the things I said, I was just frustrated.”

Osamu scoffed into the phone, “Did you even hear what I said, are you hearing yourself? She is the best thing that has happened to you, the least you could do is support her, this is a big deal for her Atsumu, even I know that. Honestly I don’t know why she is still with you after the shit you just pulled, did you hear me? She was scared of you, y’know like that last relationship she had? Where she was sent to the hospital multiple times, she thought she was right back there, that you were just like him. Do you know how bad you have to fuck up for that to happen, after all the counseling she’s done? You know how much trust you just broke? I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wanted to hear from you again, and I’d agree with her. God I have half a mind to tell Ma what you did, You need to sit and stew on what you just lost. And I mean it, I don’t want to see you here tonight, she needs a safe space right now. I’ll let her stay for as long as she wants, but I’m not gonna stop her if she leaves so you better get your fucking head on straight and get on your knees begging for forgiveness you don’t deserve.”

With that Osamu hung up the phone, exhaling as he pinched the bridge of his nose, was his brother really that stupid? He shook his head and headed out of his room, only to open the door to see you standing there, eyes holding an emotion he couldn’t quite place. “Is he coming?” Osamu sighed and led you back to the couch before finishing the tea he forgot about. He placed your cup on the end table next to you and took a seat with his own. “No, I told him to stay at your guy’s tonight. You need a safe space right now to calm down and sort your thoughts. You can stay here as long as you’d like, but I don’t want you to feel trapped, you can leave whenever, if you want to go to your folk’s, hell even our Ma’s place, I’ll drive you there. You just need to focus on you right now ya hear me? And if you don’t ever wanna see my ugly brother again, I’ll help you get a new identity.” You giggled slightly at the last part before you took a sip of your tea, shoulders relaxing. You turned to Osamu and smiled.

“Thank you ‘samu, I really appreciate it. I’m a little more calm right now, I think I’ll go home tomorrow, apologize and get us back on track.” You did a little nod as you said it, but Osamu just furrowed his eyebrows. “Apologize? There is nothing you need to apologize for doll, You were completely justified in your frustration, Atsumu is the one who needs to apologize, not you. Don’t settle just so things will go back to normal, because they won’t.” You sighed sadly, he was right and you knew it. You were falling back to old coping tactics. Your therapist would not be happy with you right now.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m still gonna go back, hopefully after we’ve both had some sleep we can work it out.” You smiled again, feeling more like yourself. Osamu nodded in agreement and helped you set up in the guest bedroom before turning in. You sighed as you laid in the bed, not used to sleeping by yourself, but the events from the night took its toll, and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

Back in your apartment, Atsumu was having the opposite problem. He laid in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling, did you actually think he was going to hit you, that he meant the things he said? To him, it didn’t seem like a big deal, he was loud when he was angry, and sometimes said things he didn’t mean, which should be obvious, since you knew how much he loved you…right? He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, looking up the museum you worked at. Honestly he wasn’t really paying attention when you told him about the event, he knew it had something to do with your research, which he knew a little about from the nights you’d info dump your findings to him. His eyes widened when he looked at the upcoming events, when he clicked on the date it was scheduled for he winced.

It really was a big deal, curators from all over the country were coming to hear you give a presentation on your recent fieldwork findings, you’d been at this site for the majority, if not all, of your relationship only now having a big discovery others spent their entire lives chasing. There were going to be donors, curators, archaeologists and other anthropologists from all over Japan and other countries as well. You were right, this was a career changer, no, this was a life changing presentation.

Guilt started to seep into his bones as he thought again about what he had said, how he had brushed you off and then got mad at you for voicing your feelings, something that took months for you to be able to do with him. He thought back to when he slammed his hand on the table, the way you flinched, the look in your eyes right before you left. His stomach felt like it dropped out of his body, chest constricting as the guilt flooded him as he kept thinking back to every expression you made, how you were crying when you left, that you were scared of him. He pushed his palms against his eyes as he groaned, how could he be so horrible to you? Osamu was right, about everything. You were the best thing that’s happened to him, and he broke your trust, trust that took so long to build, over missing a practice. He rolled onto his side, pulling one of your pillows against his chest. He inhaled, the scent of your conditioner still lingering, as he tried to think of how he could possibly make it right.

```

The next morning, after a relaxing shower and breakfast, you were ready. Osamu grabbed his keys, ready to drive you back, when there was a knock at the door. You had a feeling on who it was, so you set down your purse and went to sit on the couch, taking a deep breath. After a few moments Osamu came to the doorway, followed by Atsumu, who stood awkwardly for a moment before Osamu spoke to you.

“I need to be at the restaurant, there’s a key on the counter, if you could lock up if you leave that’d be great. Call me if you need anything.” He turned and left, and when you heard the door close you finally met Atsumu’s gaze, smiling slightly in greeting. Neither of you were sure what to say, but after a minute of silence he comes over and sits on the other end of the couch, obviously trying to gauge your reaction to his proximity.

You sighed through your nose, gaze turned to the floor as you fiddled with your hands, trying to sort out your thoughts. You wanted to just apologize and move on, but you knew you had to talk it out, this wasn’t something you could just pretend didn’t happen. You needed to work through this if you wanted this to work. You bit your lip, thoughts running a mile a minute. You were so deep in thought you didn’t realize Atsumu had moved until you felt his hand rest on your forearm. You jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch and when you looked at Atsumu, who had moved to the place next to you and hovered his hand over you before bringing it back to his lap, guilt evident in his features, eyes raw with emotion.

“(Y/N), I don’t even know where to begin, I fucked everything up and I am so sorry. Sorry for not listening, for brushing you and your achievements off, for making you feel lesser and unimportant, for scaring you, please, you have to know, I would never lay a hand on you, I never meant a single thing I said last night, I was frustrated and let the week get to me, which is no excuse for the way I treated you. I broke your trust, and I’ll spend forever and a month trying to earn it back. You are without a doubt the best thing that has happened to me, and the way I treated you after everything that’s happened, it- it makes me sick. I love you so much, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. But I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, I-I just- I need you to know that I love you, and that I never meant it, I’d never mean it.” His voice cracked at the end,  and he wiped his eyes before looking up to meet your gaze. You were crying, biting your lip to keep it in but failing as you took a shuddering breath that turned into a half-sob. His heart broke even more seeing you like this, and he reached out to comfort you before stopping, hand curling back into his chest.

“Can, Can I touch you?” He asked shakily, scared of the answer, shoulders slumping with relief when you nodded and he quickly gathered you into his arms, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight, like if he let you go you’d disappear. You were crying louder now, hands fisted into his sweatshirt. He nuzzled his face into your hair, quietly apologizing over and over, tears starting to fall from his eyes as well, kissing the side of your head.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was about 10 minutes. Your sobs had died down, you were just sniffing occasionally, and Atsumu’s eyes had cleared, no longer obstructed by the water wall of tears. He pulled you away from his chest slightly, cupping your cheeks, wiping at the tear tracks staining your face.

“’M sorry, ‘m so sorry. I’ll say it for the rest of my life darlin’, I love you so much and I am so proud of everything you do. I hope that one day you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t, if you won’t. You mean th’ world t’ me angel, I want nothing more than for you to be happy, for you to feel safe and loved. I promise I will support you better from now on, no matter what. I’ll make good on my promises from all those years ago, I swear.” You nodded at his words, hands coming up to cup his own before one of his moved to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips met, breath mixing as he looked at you for signs of hesitance, of fear.

“Is this okay?” Instead of verbally confirming you closed the short distance, hands gripping his shoulders as your lips moved against his slowly, taking time to enjoy each other. He pulled away after a few moments before kissing your forehead, hugging you tightly once again. “Let’s go home.” You said quietly into his shirt, squeezing his shoulders before standing on shaky legs. He nodded, getting up after you, lacing your fingers together.

Weeks later~~

 You smiled nervously at Atsumu as you rose out of your chair, giving him a quick kiss before heading to the stage. You squinted briefly at the bright lights, exhaling and smoothing out your clothes before smiling at the audience as you introduced yourself. You tried to keep your gaze evenly over the crowd, but your eyes kept finding themselves locked with Atsumu, who grinned brightly and gave a thumbs up whenever you did. Your smile grew, nerves slowly dissipating as you lost yourself in your presentation.

Afterwards you answered a few questions from the crowd, thanking them again before heading back to your table. You shook hands with the host as they walked past to continue to the next topic and thanked your tablemates who congratulated you. You snorted at Tsukishima, who said it was a little boring, like he didn’t have a page of notes from the presentation in front of him.

You turned to your boyfriend, smiling as you laced your fingers together. “Wow babe that was amazing! I don’t know what half those words meant but you did great, I’m so proud of you.” You flushed at his praise, squeezing his hand while you kissed his cheek before turning back to the host, who was announcing the next speaker. You don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t work things out, and frankly you don’t want to think about it, the two of you are slowly building this back to where they were, but this time your relationship is stronger. You’re happier than you’ve ever been, and that’s what matters.

[spaceskam]

for @maltrie21 who asked for 21 for tarlos

tags: high school au, underage drinking

21. close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams [ao3]

Carlos was wasted.

TK laughed and kept him steady as he led him out the front door of the party and very slowly to his car. Carlos stumbled and giggled and made sure to tell TK he was pretty at least twice one the walk there. For Carlos’ sake, TK would keep all that to himself, though he would enjoy every moment of it.

“Hold on,” TK said, holding him by the belt loop as he opened the passenger side door and carefully pushed his head down so he wouldn’t hit it as he climbed in. He took a breather once Carlos was safely in the seat.

For all intents and purposes, TK was still the new kid. He’d only been in Austin for two months and he still had yet to make friends. Not for lack of anyone trying, but he had made sure to make a bad impression. He was stubborn and a little annoying and loud. 

But then there was Carlos.

He was quite sure Carlos hated his guts at one point. He was loud and brash and Carlos was quiet and smart‒there was an obvious clash of personalities there. But TK couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop wanting him to just look at him. It was so stupid but TK had seen him smile once and that was it for him.

Carlos had been a bit tougher to crack.

After a solid month of slowly pestering him in any way he knew how to just get him to pay attention, TK actually got him to be his partner for a stupid science project. Something about studying mold on different types of bread. TK very pointedly offered to write the essay so Carlos would lean over his shoulder when he typed.

That has made it grow from a little casual infatuation into a full blown crush. He liked the way Carlos smiled, the way he was driven, the way he had ambitions, the way he laughed, the way he looked at TK like he hated him and yet couldn’t look away all at once. It was intoxicating and TK hardly knew what to do with himself.

After their project was done, TK needed an excuse to hang out with him again and it just so happened to be the weekend of some party who talked to TK during math occasionally. He’d invited Carlos and he’d said yes and it sounded like a good idea. That being said, Carlos had very clearly not enjoyed the experience. Well, he hadn’t enjoyed it up to the point he got his hand on alcohol so that he could enjoy it. Carlos had the unforeseen consequence of being a total fucking lightweight, however, and now TK was thankful he hadn’t drank too much.

“TK,” Carlos said as he climbed into the driver’s side.

“Yes, your highness?” TK teased. Carlos smiled that pretty smile, the one that made it impossible to believe that the guy didn’t have a billion guys and girls alike fawning over him. How did they not swoon in the hallways?

“Are you taking me home now?” he asked.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

“Can we… not take me home?” Carlos wondered. TK’s eyebrows pulled together and he couldn’t help but smile at this very, very light mischievous streak.

“Depends. Where would you like to go?” TK wondered, leaning into the center console. Carlos was already leaning in and it brought them nearly nose to nose. It was much closer than when he’d looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Carlos said, “Somewhere not home. I wanna hang out with you.”

“We’ve hung out all night, you’re not tired?” TK laughed. Truly, he would’ve loved to hang out with him longer. However, it did objectively sound like a bad idea while he was drunk. He should just take him home.

“Nooo, I’m definitely not tired, I’m fine,” Carlos insisted. TK huffed a laugh and scanned his eyes over him. He was gorgeous. It was extremely unfair.

“Okay. I know a place.”

“Cool. Let’s go.”

TK didn’t actually know a definitive place, but he figured if he drove around long enough, Carlos would start to tire out and want to go home. As much as he wanted to be around him he didn’t feel like pushing too many boundaries by being too close while he was drunk. He still wasn’t entirely sure on how Carlos felt about him. As much as he wanted it to be a romantic thing, he wasn’t sure yet.

“TK, can you drive with one hand?” Carlos asked. TK peaked over at him, smiling softly. He was so ridiculously adorable. 

“Yeah. Why? You want my hand for something?” TK wondered, teasing just enough to get out a soft hum of amusement. He heard Carlos shifting and that was when he decided maybe he should park. You know, just to see how cute he looked.

“Maybe,” Carlos said, “Can I see it?”

“Yeah, just be careful. Don’t want it flying out the window or anything, you’ll have to be the one to go and find it,” TK said, holding out his right hand. He didn’t have to be looking at him to know he rolled his eyes.

“You’re so…” Carlos said, trailing off as he slowly traced over TK’s fingers. He slotted his fingers in with his after a moment. TK took a deep breath and tried to have completely normal feelings about that.

His new persona at school was that he was a bad boy. That was the goal he set when he moved here, that’s who he decided he was going to be. Bad boys don’t get flustered when someone holds their hand.

But Carlos’ hand was so warm.

“I’m so what?” TK asked.

Carlos took a deep breath. “You’re so much. ”

And that was very much not what TK wanted to hear. Still, he managed not to pull his hand away and waited for some sort of elaboration.

“You just come to my school and mess everything up. I’m not supposed to date anyone until I graduate. That’s the plan. That’s seven months away. But, here you are, loud and cute and flirtatious and,” Carlos paused, circling his fingertips around TK’s knuckles, “And I kinda wanna risk it all.”

“Would it really be a risk?” TK asked, keeping his voice slow and controlled. He never wanted to be the reason anyone felt the need to go out of their comfort zone. He didn’t want to actually mess anything up for him.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” Carlos said, “I don’t know. I’m hoping it won't be, but I don’t know.”

“I mean, you don’t have to come out to anyone really. I’m interested in you regardless and it’s no one’s business what we do,” TK said, admitting it out loud because apparently they were talking about that.

He pulled into the parking lot of a playground, parking his car and looking at Carlos. He was looking at the moon.

“You’re interested in me?” Carlos asked, slowly looking at him. His eyes were tired and unfocused and they really should be having this conversation when he was sober.

“I’m very, very interested in you,” TK smiled, reaching out with his free hand to poke his cheek. Carlos rolled his eyes but his smile took over his face. It was such a good smile. “What’s not to like?”

“A lot, probably. You’re cool,” Carlos said, pouting slightly. TK was absolutely endeared.

“I’m really not that cool,” he insisted. Carlos scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“I don’t even care about coming out, I just need to focus on school. I-I need to go to college and do things. Important things,” Carlos said, insistent and vague and fumbling a little over his words. TK took a deep breath.

“What if… we talked about this when you’re not drunk?” TK suggested.

“I’m not drunk!”

“Mhm, okay.”

“Ugh,” Carlos sighed, sinking into his seat and looking back towards the moon. He was pouting and adorable and TK was infatuated even more. “Okay, fine, we’ll talk when you’re not drunk.”

TK laughed, “I’m not drunk.”

“That’s what they all say,” Carlos insisted. TK grinned so wide it almost hurt and he wanted to kiss him more than he had anyone probably ever. But he was drunk and that wasn’t how he wanted his first kiss with him to go. He wanted sparks and he wanted Carlos to remember.

“Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Okay.”

TK let him keep his hand as he backed up and headed towards the exit. He was more than a little excited about this whole thing and he most likely wasn’t going to get any sleep, but that was fine. Carlos liked him. Liked him enough to want to break the dumb rules he set for himself.

The ride to Carlos’ house was short, but he stopped on the way to get him some water and urged him to drink it before he went inside. TK still got out and helped him to the door just in case.

“Are your parents going to be pissed?” TK asked. Carlos took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with his fists because he was adorable like that.

“I think it’ll be okay. They should be asleep,” Carlos said, “And maybe they’ll be happy that I actually did something for once.”’

“Okay,” TK laughed, still keeping his hand on his waist to steady him as Carlos reached into his pocket for his keys. He moved slow to keep his hand steady, though he still missed the lock about five times before he actually got it. “Are you gonna be able to make it to your room?”

“Yeah. Thank you,” Carlos said, twisting the doorknob

“Thank you for coming out with me.”

Carlos smiled sweetly at him before leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

“I wanted to. Goodnight, TK.”

“Goodnight.”

TK stood on the front porch for a long time just smiling dumbstruck before he was able to convince himself to go to his car.

[cloud9in]

Driving lessons

Pairing: Mc x Poppy

Summary: It’s Senior year in high school and Bea decides to ask Poppy to teach her how to drive. Its free, convenient, and well the only thing she has to deal with is her big fat crush on her supposed enemy.

Pt 2: here

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: These two bicker.. a lot. Driving and teenage shenanigans are up ahead.

Tags; @samanthadalton @satrinadia @kamilahsayeet2063 and some Poppy stans: @clowneryme @baexpoppy

“Are your hands clean?”

 Bea turned to Poppy, a confused look on her face. “I’m sorry what?” The blonde stared at her emotionless before huffing dramatically. “Oh don’t give me that look, I just got the interior cleaned and I will not risk your crummy hands ruining it!”

 The moon was just starting to appear as the girls stood outside in a deserted parking lot. Poppy had agreed to teach Bea the basics of driving after the brunette consistently bugged her for weeks.  She initially said no, because there was no way in hell that a Min-Sinclair like her would be caught helping the poor. The blonde questioned why Bea would even think that she’d say yes, but she did, eventually. 

The truth is, Bea has been trying to get the blonde’s attention for quite a while now. But that’s almost impossible because Poppy avoids the brunette any second she’s not throwing insults at the girl with her minions in the crowd. Was she afraid? Bea didn’t miss those subtle side glances and lingering touches when the blonde would push her in the hallway. So ultimately, Bea made it her mission to get Poppy alone and really talk...well that and she needed her license. So why not kill two birds with one stone? 

 ***

 She knew just how to push Poppy’s buttons, and being bold in public was one way of doing it. 

 Bea strided confidently up the bleachers where the cheerleaders were lounging. She stopped directly in front of Poppy and put her leg up on the step, one hand leaning on the railing. Poppy arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as the other girls around looked to each other in confusion.

Bea only stood there with a smirk as she eyed the blonde with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. 

 “...Farmsville what the hell are you looking at?”

 “You obviously...are you blind?”

 The cheerleaders all erupted with tiny snickers that only earned a killer sneer from Poppy. The blonde stood up abruptly, smoothing the front of her skirt and tilting her head to look up at Bea. The look in her eyes could probably dissolve the brunette whole, but she didn’t back down. They stood there for a few seconds, Bea watched Poppy’s gaze drop down to her lips, and then to her arms that were exposed by her sleeveless jersey. She grinned wolfishly before the blonde pulled her down the stairs by her elbow.

 Poppy had brought Bea to a secluded spot behind the gym, pushing her against the wall. 

“I don’t know what your game here is Hughes but-“

 “Game? What game? I just wanted to talk to you about the drivin-”

 “Talk? We don’t talk! Ever. So enough of this. You are not supposed to speak to me in front of them like you know me. You and me Bea” Poppy gestures in the open space between them, “we are not friends. I don’t know what gave you the bright idea to ask me to help you! Seriously, do I look like I give out charity?”

 Bea looked Poppy up and down. “No...but you look damn good in that uniform.”

 The blonde’s eyes widen, a scarlet blush flooding her cheeks. She falters slightly before straightening up again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “I can’t drive.”

 “W-What?”

 Bea pressed her back fully against the brick wall, gesturing in the small space between them. “You asked what the hell is wrong with me so I told you-“

The blonde nearly jumps out of her suit as she smacks a hand to her forehead in frustration. “You imbecile that is not what I meant!” 

 An awkward wave of silence fills the air as the two girls stand there staring at each other. Eventually, Bea breaks into a fit of laughter which prompts Poppy to glare at her. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

 She holds onto her stomach, wiping a tear from her eye. “Well first off you’re as red as a tomato. And secondly, we are arguing in an alleyway about driving lessons. Why’s that? I never knew you to back down from a challenge. I bet that you’re only saying no because you know you’ll fail to teach me.”

Poppy scoffs amusingly, inching towards Bea’s frame against the wall. “Are you underestimating me Hughes?” The brunette only shrugs, a neutral look on her face as she held her breath. Don’t mess this up now Bea. 

With a sigh and final once-over, Poppy turns and heads back in the direction of the gym, stopping to look back at Bea after a few steps. 

 “Meet me at the parking lot behind Kyle’s Diner. 7pm sharp.”

 Score!

 ***

 Well now Bea had got what she wanted. They were alone. But Poppy was far from letting her walls down, and their constant bickering didn’t contribute greatly to her plans. After sanitizing her hands (for the third time), Poppy finally let her sit in the driver's seat as the car was set in park. 

 “Um remind me again, why are we doing this at night and in an expensive looking car…?” 

 The blonde rolls her eyes with irritation. This was going to be a recurring theme Bea thought to herself. “Okay first off, no one is supposed to know that I’m gifting you with my presence...hence the night sky. I thought that was given.” Poppy points to the sky matter-of-factly. “...and this is a Mercedes Benz. Do you think I sit in a fucking wagon and have one of my minions push me?”

Bea smiled to herself as she tried not to crack up at the thought of Chloe pushing Poppy down a steep hill. At least the blonde has a sense of humor, and that was one of many things that made Bea adore her, even if she was a bitch. 

 “Well I just don’t want to crash something as nice as this-“

 “You aren’t going to crash it period” Poppy calmly states, a certain hidden edge to her voice. She looks over at Bea who catches her eyes, and if the brunette wasn’t intimated before, boy was she now. “If you do crash it, I’ll feed you to the wolves, it’s that simple. You got it Farmsville?”

Bea puffs out a breath of air and shrugs. This was going to be a long night.

Poppy taught her how to ease into using the brakes and accelerator, when to switch the gear shift, and most importantly, using the rear and side view mirrors. Bea drove two laps in the vacant lot and on the third one she managed to park perfectly in one the spaces. Poppy had the urge to praise her for not fucking it up so early on, in fact Bea was close to perfect. The blonde had begun to wonder if she really needed help, or was this just an excuse? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of Bea...wanting to spend time with her. Poppy didn’t want to indulge in her feelings but she couldn’t just blatantly ignore the obvious. She’s a Min-Sinclair and is always sure of what she wants. But not when it came to Bea…Was this how it felt like to have a crush? There was no way in hell that she could fall for a girl like Bea. But then again, the blonde was sitting in the passenger seat watching her intently. She noticed how Bea’s face would scrunch with confusion when mentioning the functions on the dashboard. Poppy wanted to hold her hand and rub out the tension. She wanted to reassure and tell her how amazing she was doing, but of course pride stood in the way. Was pride worth it though? She started to believe it wasn’t when it came to Bea. 

 “Let's go for one more spin around the lot and then I’ll remove myself from your crème brûlée seats”, Bea voices sarcastically, a small grin on her face as she peered over at Poppy. The blonde rolls her eyes but nods happily. She didn’t want it to be just one more lap, and Bea sure as hell felt the same, but communication wasn’t a practiced skill of theirs. 

The brunette reversed out of the space and started accelerating around the lot.

 “Bea, make sure you always check the side view mirrors before you pull out.” 

 Bea shot a cocky sideways glance at the blonde, well this is new.

 “Did you just call me...by my name? Like my name, Bea? No Farmsville or Hughes, or dumbass-“

 “Okay! okay I think it’s pretty clear by now”

 “What? That you have so many names for me?”

 Poppy huffs with a start, pinching her eyebrows together as blood rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment. “You don’t ever shutup do you?” 

Bea just laughs brightly, increasing her speed slightly as she gets more comfortable. “Just remember what I said about the side mirrors, don’t make me repeat it.”

 “You’re so demanding you know?”

 Poppy smirks in response, her finger reaching up to twist a golden lock. “Is that really news to you?”

 “Well no...maybe I just like it when you talk to me like that.” 

 Bea knew she was pushing it, but every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. She wanted to say more,  do more, but would Poppy like that? They had made so much progress and both girls would be dumb to not see a spark between them. “...Just keep your eyes on the road.” 

Well that was something right? At least she didn’t yell at me, Bea thought. Without overthinking it, the brunette takes one hand off the steering wheel and intertwines it with Poppy’s hands. They were much smaller and incredibly soft. Bea felt like she was walking on thin ice, yet the blonde’s touch seemed to steady her. She squeezed a little tightly, rubbing a finger on Poppy’s knuckle soothingly. A burst of joy shot through Bea’s body as the blonde pulled away, only to set her hand on top of Bea’s, tracing ghostly patterns. They sat there like that for the rest of the lap until Poppy pointed in the distance. “You see those spaced out cones over there? Maneuver through them until you stop at the pole.”

 Bea didn’t complain, even if the task seemed ridiculous. She wanted to spend more time with Poppy, so whatever. “What do I get if I succeed?”

 “Satisfaction that you weren’t a complete failure today? Get a move on, we don’t have all night!” Typical Poppy.

 Bea had managed to avoid hitting the cones, glancing over to see a hidden, but impressed look on Poppy’s face. She wanted to show off just a little, pressing her foot on the accelerator with a little more force as she navigated through the obstacles. Unbeknownst to either girl, there was a pothole upcoming on the ground and Bea sunk violently into it before popping back up.

“Bea! Watch out for the-“

But she couldn’t secure her hold on the steering wheel quick enough. The car screeched loudly as Bea stomped on the brakes, steering the car to the left as they hit the pole. Poppy had jumped as far as the seat belt would let her, her hand reaching out to shield the brunette from any impact. The crash shook the whole car, and felt very very expensive. Bea sat paralyzed in her seat, her breathing quick and shallow as she surveyed the scene. She was relieved that they didn’t rip through the pole...or were impaled by it. Bea shifted abruptly, turning to scan the other girl for injuries. She clutches onto Poppy’s arm, a pained look on her face. “You’re not hurt are you?”

 Poppy waited for her heart to stop beating out of her chest, as she looked from Bea to the wreck. In one swift motion she punches the brunette in the shoulder before stepping out of the car. “Ow! What the hell…” Bea follows after her, stumbling out the car as she rubbed at the tender spot. The blonde looked at the front of her car in horror. The glass was completely shattered, the Benz symbol was dangling off the edge, and the whole fender was completely damaged. “Hughes what the fuck?! You- Look at my car! Daddy is gonna kill me…”

Bea felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Back to square one huh? She cautiously paced towards the seething blonde, both hands in a defensive hold in front of her just in case Poppy decided to throw hands. Just in case.

Poppy snapped her head in the brunette's direction, ready to chew her out until she noticed blood dripping from her forehead. Her face fell, the anger draining out rapidly. “Bea you’re hurt…” Bea looked at her in confusion until she felt the warm liquid dripping onto her nose. She reached up quickly, wiping the blood

that wouldn’t stop pouring from the open wound. “It’s nothing! I can barely feel it-“

 “Stop it. Here let me see.”

 Bea watched as Poppy stepped closer, reaching her finger to gently prod at the now stinging wound. She blew a breath of hot air onto the area and it was almost enough to make Bea melt. She had never seen this side of Poppy, and it made her spiral deeper into the pool of feelings she had developed for the blonde. “You need to go to the hospital right now, come on I’ll take you”, Poppy hurriedly spoke.

 “But what about the car?”

 “Is the car bleeding out on the fucking sidewalk? I’ll call triple A and they’ll come get it….and I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

 Bea broke out into a grin, watching the blonde worry about her, even if she wouldn’t admit it. It was certainly refreshing. Her smile quickly faltered though. If Poppy took her to the hospital would she leave her there? Would this be the last time they talked? Poppy had a habit of avoiding her. Bea started to panic, this couldn’t be the end. Poppy had pulled her arm along as they trudged away from the wreck. But Bea stopped suddenly, yanking Poppy by her arm until they were face to face.

 “Go on a date with me.”

 “What?!”

 “You heard me. I will not go to the hospital unless you agree to go on a date with me.”

 Poppy stood there dumb-founded. Bea was full of surprises wasn’t she? “Are you saying that you’ll bleed out in the middle of this lot if I say no?”

 “Yes.”

 “You are….un-fucking-believable. A lunatic I might add. Hell even a madwoman. Let’s go, I’m taking you to a mental hospital instead.”

 Bea grabs Poppy by the waist as she attempts to walk away. She pulls her even closer against her than they were before, a smug grin settling on her face. “Only if you go out with me. You can pick the time and place.”

She looks at the blonde with doe eyes and that winning smile. Poppy sighs as her breath shakes at their close proximity. She was close enough to kiss her, and no one would know. Poppy couldn’t deny that this is exactly what she wanted. Now that she was in the same position she had constantly day dreamed about, the air seemed heavier. But it felt right. And so she said yes. Because she knew what she wanted. 

“Let's get you some medical attention first though, can’t go on a date with a corpse.”

 Bea did internal jumping jacks as she pumped a fist in the air.

 Score!

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter 16

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Well, this is it. Thanks for reading - this was a lot of fun to write, and I’m going to miss it. But who knows, there are always sequels, right? ;) Shoutout to @xxwritemeastoryxx​ for letting me run things by her 

Chapter 15  -  Masterlist

They drove back to Kansas in silence.

"Maybe we should just stay here for a few days..." Sam had suggested.

But Dean had refused, covering Y/N's body in a blanket and placing her in the back of the Impala with such delicate care. He slammed the car door shut, the familiar groan of the metal grating against his nerves. "We take her home, and we give her a hunter's funeral," he said with finality.

"She has friends here, Dean. People she loved, people that loved her..."

Dean ignored his brother, climbing into the driver's seat and keeping his head forward and leaving no room for further argument.

They drove through the night, Dean white knuckling the wheel. They made it in less than half the time, Sam not daring to suggest they slow down.

*****

"They're gone," Freya sighed.

"What do you mean they're gone?" Stefan asked. They were supposed to drive her back here..."

Freya shook her head. "Dean wanted to take her home," she explained. "He wants to give her a hunter's funeral."

"And they didn't think that was important to discuss with us first?" Stefan yelled.

She winced, but let him yell, waiting until he regained his composure once more. "He's hurting, Stefan. He loved her."

Stefan's jaw tightened.

"Where's Damon?" She asked quietly.

"He went to wake Elijah," he explained.

Freya nodded solemnly, knowing her brother would never get over this, that the grief would consume him.

*****

Dean lifted her carefully, carrying her inside the bunker, and laying her on her bed delicately. Sam watched from the doorway as his brother uncovered her face, brushing her hair back and dropping his head. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered.

Sam's eyes burned, wishing he could fix his big brother. His brother who was always so strong, so sure. It wasn't the first time he had seen him cry, but as his shoulders sagged and they began to shake, Sam turned away, feeling like he was intruding, as though he had no right to be there in Dean's grief.

He turned, walking away quietly and when he was sure Dean could no longer hear him he sunk to the floor, letting his own grief wash over him.

*****

Damon sighed as he read Stefan's text letting him know that Dean had taken Y/N back to Kansas. He glanced over at the body next to him, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Elijah's eyes shot open, and he took a deep breath, everything rushing back.

"Welcome back," Damon said, his voice grim, spinning the dagger absentmindedly in his hand.

Elijah sat up, his eyes moving toward the flames in the fireplace of the cabin. "Where is she?" He asked, his voice low, already knowing the answer.

"We should talk..."

*****

Dean stepped into the library, looking for Sam. He didn't want to wait, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her in the infirmary like that. He knew they had to move, plan to send her off properly, burn the bones. He wiped his hand over his face, exhausted.

The books they had been searching through just days before were still sprawled on the table, and he ran his fingers across the pages. A vision of her face lighting up when he offered to let her tag along on a hunt popped into his mind, and he remembered the kiss he had stolen from her in the kitchen. He slammed his eyes shut, anger boiling up under his skin until it burst. He picked up a chair, throwing it across the room, the legs cracking as they came in contact with the wall. He roared, throwing the books and slamming his fists on the table.

"Dean..."

He turned to find Cas at the other end of the table, his expression grim. Dean squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw, his rage simmering as he looked at his former friend.

"I'm sorry about Y/N," the angel said quietly.

"You're sorry?" He shook his head. "Why didn't you just stick to the damn plan."

Cas' looked at him sternly. "That was the plan."

"And when the hell were you going to loop me in on that?" He shouted. "You let her march in there to die!"

"Crowley and I-"

"Crowley!?" He boomed. "Now you're working with Crowley again?"

"Empusa had to die, and the only way to do-"

"How many times are we gonna go down this road, Cas?" Dean cut him off, his rage out of control. "We would have found another way!" He bellowed. "We would have figured it out, like we always do! WithY/N!"

Cas shifted, getting defensive. "Like we always do? Dean, everything alwaysfalls apart! I know it doesn't feel like it now, but this is a win. If you knew what Emp-"

Dean shook his head, the muscles of his jaw tightening as he cut Cas off. "This wasn't a win," he gritted.

"I did what I had to do," Cas was firm, but his friend said nothing, instead turning away from him and refusing to look him in the eye, his anger rolling off of him in waves. Cas nodded in understanding and turned away, wishing there was anything he could have done to save her, to save Dean.

Dean held his breath, clenching his jaw when he heard the telltale sign of angel wings. Refusing to break again, he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

"Dean! Come quick!" He heard Sam's heavy boots running down the hall.

He bolted, his legs pushing him forward as fast as he could, following his brother straight to the infirmary. As he turned the corner he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Y/N?"

She sat up in her bed, alive and real.

Her eyes met his, panic lacing the deep y/e/c of her irises. "What happened to me?" She breathed.

Dean made no move towards her at first, Sam sitting on the edge of her bed, his hands on hers. He watched as his brother hugged her, making sure she was really there, she was really her.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, searching his mind for some explanation.

She glanced down at herself, her brows furrowed as she struggled to put the pieces together. "I don't understand," she breathed, patting her chest where she had stabbed herself and finding nothing. A memory flashed before her, Empusa's hands on her throat, Dean's face as she tried to let him know she loved him before she lifted the blade...

"I died..." she recalled.

Still, Dean made no move towards her, his mind racing at all the possibilities.

Sam cleared his throat. "How are you here?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know, I..." she stopped, the answer dawning on her as another memory rushed back.

Y/N, are you sure you want this?"

She nodded, untying the leather bracelet infused with vervain that she wore constantly. She tossed it into the passenger seat of Damon's car as they stood outside of the Grill.

Damon sighed heavily. "I'll get you the dagger," he promised. He dipped low, his hands coming up to hold her face so he could look her directly in the eyes. "When you're ready, you'll take the dagger and use it on Elijah."

Her pupils dilated as she repeated him in a daze. "I'll dagger Elijah," she whispered softly.

Damon continued to hold her face, his eyes sad but focused. "But before you do, you'll tell him and Dean how you feel, because they deserve to know."

She nodded.

"Good. Now I want you to put your bracelet back on, and forget we ever had this conversation."

"What do you remember?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "I asked Damon to compel me," she whispered as the realization hit her. "He told me to be brave, that I needed to dagger Elijah to keep him safe." Her eyes met Dean's and her face flushed, deciding to keep the fact that she was compelled to make her confession to herself.

Sam swallowed nervously. "What else did he say?"

Her mind continued to rush as the moments she had forgotten came back with sudden clarity.

They moved through the tunnels mostly in silence, Damon leading the way.

"Do you ever think about dying?" Y/N asked after a while.

Damon shrugged. "It's not really on my to do list..."

"Yea, but even you aren't entirely invincible. Don't you ever wonder what happens to us after we die?"

"No," he stated matter-of-factly. "No, I don't."

She continued to follow Damon in silence, and when they reached their destination, Damon turned to her. They stood in an old crypt, and even in the darkness she could see the dust and decay that littered it. She was beginning to breathe heavily, and he took her hands in her face. "Hey," he reassured her. "I don't know what happens next," he paused. "But I believe no matter what comes after all of this, we're all okay in the end."

She nodded, trying to convince herself that he was right. "We're all okay," she repeated.

He pulled her wrist up, glancing at the leather bracelet. "Y/N, if you need me to, I can compel you...take it away so you don't have to be afraid."

She shook her head adamantly, stepping back from him. "I can do this, Damon." She closed her eyes, picturing everyone she cared about. The people she had loved, the ones she was lucky enough to have love her back.

Damon didn't doubt that she could, but at the end of the day, he couldn't. "Screw this," he muttered, tearing off her bracelet. His fingers burned as the vervain touched his skin, and he winced, but ignored it.

"What are you doing?" She struggled in his hold, but he gripped her chin.

"You deserve more than this, Y/N. Drink. Drink and forget this happened." He bit into his wrist and held the wound up to mouth and she did as he demanded, his blood racing through her system.

Dean put the pieces together for himself, and just like that all his hope was shattered as quickly as it had rushed in. He stormed off, Y/N and Sam wincing as a door slammed.

She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs she felt coming on. "I drank his blood," she confessed. "At the cemetery."

Sam gripped her hand, squeezing lightly and glancing away from her. "You're in transition."

*****

"You really make a girl work for it when she's dying."

Dean glanced up from under the hood of Baby to find Y/N standing in the door of the garage. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and his eyes trained on his hands.

"Hey," she whispered back.

He looked at her again, she had showered and was wearing a pair of shorts with one of his black t-shirts, looking so beautiful and alive he wondered how death could possibly dare to take her. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Hungry, if I'm being honest..." When he didn't respond she stepped further into the room. "Or maybe it's thirsty?" She joked.

"Don't do that."

"Oh come on," she whispered, trying to lighten the mood. "We've been given a second chance to say goodbye."

He shook his head, fidgeting with the wrench in his hands. "Look, I've been thinking, if you hold off on feeding and we can find Damon..."

She sighed. "I'm not going to kill Damon," she cut him off. "Sam already told me about your grandad's cure to vampirism. I can't do that, Dean."

"The guy's had a century to live, you've had nothing..." he argued.

"He's also long gone, if I know anything about him at all. Besides, I couldn't do that to Elena." She shook her head, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around him until he hugged her back. "This is my choice," she whispered.

He moved out of her hold, throwing the wrench across the room. "Yea, well this is bullshit!" He shouted.

She winced at his outburst.

"What about my choice?" He yelled. "Huh? Because you sure as shit didn't consult with me when you decided it was okay to run that damn blade through your heart!"

She bit her lip. "Would you have gone along with things if you had known what I was going to do?" She asked quietly.

"There is always another way!" He exclaimed.

"It was the only way Dean! And if I had to, I'd do it again if it meant you were safe!"

He didn't wait to hear more. He was so tired of losing, and too tired to fight anymore. He stormed off, leaving her in the cold garage.

*****

Y/N sat at the base of a tree just outside of the bunker, her phone in her hands. She had just gotten off the phone with Stefan, explaining to him that she wasn't going to feed.

"I can be there in a few hours," he had suggested.

She smiled at the offer, even though he couldn't see it. "Stefan," she spoke softly into the receiver. "This is hard enough. I won't be able to say goodbye if you come here. Please, just tell everyone I love them."

Stefan teared up on the other end but she knew he respected her too much to deny her this request. "I will," he said, his voice cracking.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Yea," he whispered. "I'll see you later."

She jumped at the slam of the bunker door, the sound ungodly loud. It grated on her nerves and caused her head to pound. She heard each fall of his boots as he walked toward her, each footstep louder and more irritating than the last. Dean finally stepped into view, distracting her from the annoyance, and her heart raced at the sight of him.

He didn't say anything for a moment, sitting down next to her with his gaze watching the field in front of them. He was careful to leave some distance between them. He thought of their time together that night she had asked him to stay with her, the way she felt underneath him, the way she said his name as she came undone. The way his heart pounded at the sight of her, and the way it had calmed when she laid her head on his chest.

They sat in silence, and she sunk into the memory of the last time they had watched a sunset together - knowing the sun going down had never brought him peace. Because there was no beauty in the twilight for Dean, only a heaviness as he anticipated the monsters that would crawl out of the shadows when the last bits of light were stolen away.

"So you were right," he broke the silence. "Damon is long gone."

She chuckled, but didn't offer him anything else.

He took a deep breath. "I've always known this would end bloody for me," he said, keeping his eyes forward. "And you know, I've been okay with it if it means we gank some sons of bitches and save a few lives. It comes with the territory."

She leaned forward, curling up against his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, unsure if she was trying to comfort him or herself.

"I made my peace with this life a long time ago, but I gotta be honest here. Losing you? I don't know if I can ever make peace with that. I can't do this, baby." He ran his hand over his face, sniffling. "Maybe I'm being selfish here, but the hits have been coming for as long as I can remember, so when will it be enough? I have lost everything. I can't lose you, too."

She felt his shoulders sag beneath her, and she clutched onto him. "Shh," she whispered into his shirt, holding onto him. "I don't want to leave you either, Dean. But you can do this," she moved to his side so she could turn his face until he looked at her. "You have Sam, and he needs you," she whispered. "You can do this."

He shook his head in protest but she silenced any argument from him with a kiss. He pulled back to look at her, stroking her cheek and swiping away the tears that had begun to form.

"Just sit with me for a little while? Watch the sunset?" She asked quietly, her voice beginning to sound weak.

He nodded, scooting back so he was against the tree, and she curled into him. He gripped her hand in his, their fingers intertwined as he committed the curves of her face to memory. Her eyes began to flutter shut, her body breaking down without feeding. "Dean," she said quietly. "Do you remember that hunt we did in Seattle a few months back?"

He nodded. They had taken out a nest of vampires, narrowly escaping without being turned themselves. "Yea."

"Do you remember our promise?"

He shook his head, remembering how she had made him promise to end it himself if she was ever unlucky enough to turn. At the time he had agreed happily, asking for her to do the same in return. "It won't come to that," he whispered.

She nodded sleepily. "I know. But if it does..." she held her free hand up, her pinky out.

He glanced down at it for a moment, swallowing before he wrapped his own pinky around hers, promising once more he wouldn't let her be a monster. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes and relaxing, her pinky still wrapped around his.

He thought she had drifted off to sleep, but she broke the silence with a whisper once more. "Dean..."

"Yea sweetheart?"

"It would have been you."

*****

Y/N woke sometime later, and smiled at how peaceful Dean looked. She wondered when the last time he really slept was. She let her fingers trace over his lips before ghosting her own over them.

The scent of his skin was enticing, and she found that this close she could hear his blood pumping, and her mouth began to water. She pulled back, surprised to find that being close to him suddenly felt overwhelming. She stood quietly, ashamed that she was tempted at all, needing to get away.

She glanced around, unsure of where to go as panic began to wash over her. She remembered the room they had locked Crowley in a few times - the dungeon - Sam had called it. She ran back to the bunker and moved down the stairs, losing her balance. She caught herself and held herself up along the wall.

She felt tired and weak, but more than anything she was hungry.

So goddamn hungry.

She felt lightheaded and closed her eyes for a moment when she heard shuffling. She followed the noise to the library, where she found Sam sorting through books.

His hair was damp and he wore a fresh set of clothes, the stubble that had built up over the last several days gone, his face familiar once more.

She coughed, alerting him to her presence, and he glanced up at her. "Hey, sit down," he said, rushing to her side as she struggled to hold herself up.

She leaned on him, gripping his arm as he helped walk her to one of the chairs.

"You don't look so good..." he commented.

She shook her head. "I don't feel so good," she mumbled. She dropped into the chair with a sigh, the pain behind her eyes growing as she struggled to catch her breath.

Sam looked at her sadly, and knelt down in front of her. "Can I get you anything?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass of water for her.

"I'm fine..." She shook her head, but as he turned his face she saw the small cut on his neck. It was fresh, left behind from his razor, and her mouth began to water.

"Here," he offered his water, and while she should have been grateful she found herself frustrated and angry.

"I said I'm fine!" She pushed the glass away, knocking it to the ground and Sam faltered as it shattered, surprised at her outburst.

He took a step back, looking at the pieces of glass and the water tracing the patterns on the floor beneath them. "Y/N, you're not fine."

"I'm sorry..." she whispered. She slid out of the chair and dropped to her knees, picking up the shards of glass, careful to avoid the sharp edges.

Sam stopped down next to her, taking the pieces from her hand gently. "Let me." The glass pricked his skin, ever so slightly, so soft he had barely even registered the cut.

But it was enough.

She pulled his hand into her own, delicately removing the glass, a single drop of blood forming on the tip of his finger.

Her mouth watered, and she began to lean forward when he pulled back suddenly. "Y/N," he warned.

She began to cry, frustrated that she was already losing herself, frustrated at the way her throat burned, begging for relief. "Sam, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." He soothed her, pulling her in for a hug.

She felt small in his arms, though she imagined most people did. She let him pull her close and she wrapped her arms around him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

Her nose brushed against his skin where his razor had nicked him earlier, and she lifted her face slightly, so her lips hovered above it. While Sam continued to whisper words of encouragement, she drowned him out, focusing on the thrumming in his veins.

Her throat continued to burn, and everything else faded away, the only thing she could think of was ending the insatiable hunger she felt. His blood pumped louder and louder until she could no longer fight it, and she bit into his flesh.

It was only a moment, but she felt her world stop as the warmth of the blood hit her tongue. Her mouth ached as she felt her gums tear, but it was over quickly and suddenly she felt alive.

The way the blood felt on her tongue, the way it hit the back of her throat, the way she could feel it rush through her body, was pure ecstasy.

And just as quickly as it had begun it was gone.

Sam shoved her off, the force knocking her back and pulling her back to reality. "What the hell?" He shouted, jumping to his feet and feeling at his neck frantically.

She jumped up, too, the sorrow rushing forward as she realized what she had done. She felt at her mouth, the telltale sign of fangs that should definitely not be there confirming her worst fears. She was a monster.

"Sam! I'm so sorry." She stepped towards him but he moved back. "Please..."

He held a hand up, telling her to stay where she was. "Y/N, stop. We need to get you some help. I'm just going to go get Dean, and..."

She was behind him suddenly, startling him. "No! Please don't tell Dean...he can't see me like this. Please!" The guilt she felt was crushing, the worry of Dean's reaction enough to ruin her.

Sam shook his head, backing away carefully. "It's okay," he said calmly. "He'll know what to do."

She felt confused, her emotions bouncing wildly, making it difficult to keep track of exactly what she was feeling.

But the feeling always at the forefront of her mind was a desperate hunger.

She tried to ignore it, to pin down another emotion, until she found anger. Rage, even, that he was going to get Dean, that he'd let his brother see her like this.

She felt her eyes shift, and some part of her knew what she must look like, but she couldn't find a reason to care. She only knew she had to keep Sam from going to get Dean, so she lunged forward.

The sheer force of her knocked him off balance, and he fell back against the table. She used her newfound strength and speed to follow his movements, and she was on top of him, pulling his head back while pinning his arms down. The need to feel the same relief and ecstasy she had felt earlier was overwhelming all of her senses, all rational thought.

She bit into his neck, this time her teeth equipped to do the job properly, her fangs piercing his skin with ease. She pulled at his blood greedily, and she worked without thought or care, tearing into him, eager for more.

She felt him fight beneath her, but she ignored it, finding it as insignificant as a fly buzzing near her food.

"Y/N!" He choked out, and she had a vision of Sam, lifeless beneath her, as her chin dripped with his blood shook her out of her bloodlust.

She released him, jumping back, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his neck.

"No, no, no..." she began to panic, and she dropped down next to him, shoving the glass aside. "What did I do, what did I do?" She whispered, the tears coming fast and furiously. She rocked for a moment and she found that she could hear his heartbeat, slower than before, but the blood was still pumping strong, tempting her.

Sam held his free hand up cautiously, as if approaching a dangerous animal, his other hand pressed against the wound. "Y/N, calm down," he rasped.

Before he could say more she was gone.

*****

Dean woke from a dream - a damn good one - which didn't often happen. He sat up slowly, searching around him as the chill of the air fell over him. The glimpse of relief he had gotten while asleep faded rapidly as reality sunk down around him.

The silence that greeted him was eerie, and he had an all too familiar dread in the pit of his stomach.

Y/N was dying, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And now she was missing.

He made his way back to the bunker, and a sense that could only be honed by a lifetime of hunting the things that go bump in the night told him to be careful. He opened the door slowly and moved silently down the stairs, knowing inherently something was wrong. He moved lightly, but quickly, until he heard the stifled sobs.

His heart stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, alerting him that he wouldn't like what he found.

He turned the corner, stepping cautiously into the library and his heart dropped.

There across the room was Sam, clutching his neck.

"Sam!" Dean rushed, dropping beside his brother and searching frantically for the source of the blood.

Because there was so much blood.

"She's gone," Sam said.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, helping him to his feet.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he rushed, trying to reassure his brother. "But she fed, and now she's gone."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Dean, we have to find her. We have to save her."

Dean shook his head, already headed towards his car. "She's gone, Sam. You said it yourself."

"Y/N needs help," Sam struggled to keep up with Dean's long strides, his own legs weak from the loss of blood.

"She's not Y/N anymore!" He roared, rounding on his brother. Sam's steps faltered and Dean turned away once more. "You know we have to do this."

Sam looked at him, knowing it wouldn't be easy for either of them, but the weight of this was something Dean would carry with him forever. After all, he had been there himself. He nodded solemnly. "Dean, I -"

Dean shook his head, his eyes burning with the tears he held back as tightly as he could. He knew all he had to do was ask, and his brother would do this for him. He cleared his throat. "It has to be me, Sammy."

*****

It didn't take Dean long to find her. He knew how newbie vampires worked, he had hunted enough of them over the years.

She'd want to avoid people, but she was scared, alone and hungry. And even though he hated to admit it, he knew she wouldn't be able to resist the hunt for long.

It didn't take him long to find her, but it was long enough.

She had made her way to a bar on the outskirts of town, and in the dark alley she knelt, her shoulders sagging.

He clenched his jaw, knowing even in the dark that she was kneeling over a body. A body she had dropped.

She heard him approach and knew by his footsteps it was him. "I'm a monster," she glanced down at her hands.

He didn't argue with her, but he couldn't help but think of the possibility that maybe Sam was right. He cleared his throat. "Baby, we can figure this out..." he whispered.

She shook her head and stood, stepping away from him, all too aware of what she must look like.

Dean stepped forward slowly, trying to calm her as she sobbed harder, the sadness and pain drowning her. "We can't figure this out, Dean, I just killed someone!" She screamed. "Even now I can't stop thinking about how hungry I am. Get away from me."

"Y/N..." Dean took another step toward her, and she shoved him away violently, putting him on the defense, and she knew he'd never be able to let her walk away from this.

And why should he? She thought, as she felt the veins ripple beneath her eyes, begging for her to give in to her worst intentions.

She watched as Dean pulled the stake from his jacket, turning it in his hand as he looked at the pointed end of the wood. He contemplated it for a moment before allowing himself to meet her eyes again.

He clenched his jaw, hating himself. Wondering if he should just call Stefan, let them figure out a new life for her, and remembering his promise to her.

"Please," she cried. "Dean."

He winced, his name rolling off her tongue in a siren's call. She was still Y/N, and he knew that even with the blood lust, he loved her. He always would.

Which made his promise all the more damning.

She stepped back, so her back was against the wall, and she reached out to him, pulling him closer. "You promised," she reminded him, her eyes pleading.

He shook his head, biting his lip and concentrating on the pain there instead of the one tearing through his chest.

His eyes bore into hers, and he knew there was a part of her that was considering running. Part of him wished she'd listen to that, but he knew she'd never forgive him if he let her go free and she went into the night, if she took another victim.

Worse, she'd never forgive herself.

That blood would be on both of their hands, and there was already too much.

Her sobs choked away anything she could say, and she didn't fight him as he raised the wood up to her chest.

He wished he could turn it off, steel his nerves so they were no longer Y/N and Dean, but hunter and monster, but he felt every moment, every second of pain and he knew it would never leave him. "I love you," he said instead, his own tears blurring his vision. And that was okay, he thought, because he didn't want to remember her like this - with murderous eyes and her face covered in death.

She nodded, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, raising her chin as she readied herself to meet her fate.

He leaned forward, ghosting his lips over her eyelids before closing his own eyes, slamming the splintered wood forward with as much force as he could muster.

He had killed plenty of vampires before. Most of them had taken a machete to the head, but several he had staked. He was familiar with the way a stake pressed through the layer of skin, the way you had to pop the muscle beneath it to get through all of the way, the force it took and the way the body gave before it broke.

He had anticipated it this time.

So he was surprised when he hit a solid wall. The stake not giving, and bruising his own ribs as he pressed his weight forward. He opened his eyes, surprised to see she was no longer in front of him, when out of the corner of his eye he saw him.

Elijah knelt over her, having rushed in and knocking her away from the force of the stake just in time.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of relief, anger, guilt, frustration, love...she couldn't process everything she felt in that moment, still not used to the weight each emotion carried.

"Elijah," she breathed.

He nodded, his eyes searching her, taking in the change. She found he didn't look at her with pity or disgust, only his own regret. Still, there was awe.

He pulled out his handkerchief, wiping the blood from her chin delicately, his thumb tracing against her lips.

"I killed him," her voice cracked.

"Hey," he whispered, helping her stand, but gripping her arm. "This is the hunger."

She nodded, feeling calm in his hold, but as the rage and the hunger dissipated she found it made more room for grief and guilt. "I shouldn't be here," she cried. "I can't be this, Elijah. I can't. I'm a monster."

He shook his head, brushing her hair back from her face. "You can do this," he whispered. "We will do this together, but you must feed."

She made no move as she understood what he meant, her eyes searching for Dean, searching for an answer, but he looked away knowing he was an outsider in this moment.

Elijah gripped her face in his hands, pulling her attention back to him.

She looked dazed but nodded slowly, and he pulled her into him, allowing her to drink from his own veins as she cried, until her body relaxed in his arms.

He pulled back to look at her once more, his thumb wiping at the last trace of blood. "Go, Y/N. Go, and I give you my word I will be right behind you."

Her eyes moved toward Dean once more, and he looked back at her, his eyes filled with despair and longing. For a brief moment she saw the life they could have had, the life Dean had deserved, because he deserved it all. She cursed Chuck at the shitty hand he had dealt him, and knew even he didn't deserve Dean Winchester.

"Go," Elijah said urgently. "Go now."

Maybe it was her newfound perception, she thought maybe instead it was because she knew him, but she saw the slightest nod from Dean, and she knew he was giving them both an escape from this nightmare. He was saying goodbye, letting her go. He was breaking his promise.

She looked at him one last time, committing his face to memory, knowing she'd forever be haunted by his beauty, by the life they should have had.

And as quickly as Elijah had appeared, Y/N was gone.

Dean turned as Elijah stood and adjusted his suit jacket, sure he had a fight coming to him that he couldn't win, unsure if he cared anymore.

The Original waited until he was sure Y/N was out of hearing range, his eyes studying the man before him. "Tell me, Mr. Winchester. What kind of man gives up on the woman he loves?" He asked, his jaw clenched.

Dean looked away for a moment. He didn't need Elijah to hate him, he hated himself enough for the both of them. "I made her a promise, that if she ever became a monster..."

"You have no idea what she will become, what she is capable of."

He shook his head slowly. "She won't be Y/N anymore."

"I can help her," Elijah said with confidence. "Help her control her urges, teach her how to live with the hunger."

"When she kills again, the guilt will tear her apart, and she won't come back from it. It'll change her. It already has."

Elijah nodded and for a moment Dean saw the sorrow reflected in his own eyes. "Perhaps you are right," he said gravely. "But what kind of man would I be if I didn't try?"

Dean had no answer for him. Either way he knew Y/N was lost to him, and it killed him all the same.

Elijah stepped around him, pausing when Dean's hand came up to her shoulder. "I made a promise to stop her, Elijah. And I keep my promises."

Elijah considered him for a moment. He nodded silently and moved past him. When he was at the entrance of the alley he stopped, turning to face the hunter once more. "I am a man of my word as well. I meant it when I said I'd make it my business if you hurt her again."

Dean didn't turn around, waiting for the silence to wash over him once more, the all too familiar feeling of loneliness sinking on him before he dropped the stake he had white knuckled in his hand. He took a breath, his heart pounding as he realized it was all over.

Y/N was gone.

He punched the brick wall next to him, wincing at the pain in his knuckles that were already bruising.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself as the grief began to consume him.

*****

Y/N stood at the edge of town, pacing wildly. She was struggling to keep up with everything she felt, every noise she heard. The cars, the footsteps, the heartbeats. Everything was so loud.

It was all too much, and so she ran until she heard nothing but her own thoughts. She wasn't sure which was worse, but at least she knew she was alone out under the starry sky. She wouldn't hurt anyone here.

Flashbacks of Sam flooded her mind, and she felt grateful for a brief moment that he was okay - that she hadn't killed him like she had dreamt she had a few days ago. But her gratitude faded under the weight of the pain of what she had done. The pain she felt when Dean had looked at her, knowing she was gone.

It was odd, she thought, because still felt everything she had felt before. For Dean, for Elijah, for her friends...but it was all heightened...and didn't that mean she was still her?

You're a monster, she reminded herself as the flash of the dead man - the man who she had drained the life out of in a moment - came to the forefront of her mind.

So that was heightened, too. The guilt, the self loathing...

The hunger, the monster within reminded her.

She continued to pace when she stopped, her newfound hearing picking up on something in the distance.

Then his scent hit her. Elijah.

She needed to focus, so she grasped onto the emotion that popped up first.

Which apparently was anger. "I don't want this!" She shouted, turning as he approached. He said nothing, instead watching her, his brow creased and his gaze intent. "I should have died back there!" She screamed at him. "I didn't want this!"

Elijah approached her carefully, pulling her into him and pressing her against his chest.

It should have soothed her, like it had earlier, in the alley where the dark had hid what she had become. But out there in the open, under the light of the moon, where he could see her clearly she felt she was undeserving of his comfort, of his compassion and understanding. It only angered her more.

She pushed him away. "This was not the plan!" She cried, a fresh wave of anguish pulling her under once more.

Elijah clenched his jaw for a moment, thinking carefully on his words. "Y/N, everything you are feeling is heightened, and raw. It's all new, you need time..."

"I was out of time, Elijah! And I made my peace with it!"

"And I did not!" He hollered back.

Her stance faltered as she stepped back from him.

"I would have protected you," he whispered. "I would have done anything to keep you safe, and you took that away from me."

She was at a loss for words.

"And had I been there when you were in transition," he continued "I would have..."

"What?" she cut him off. "What would you have done Elijah? You said it yourself, you wouldn't have let me go."

He shook his head sadly. "I would have respected your decision," he whispered. "Whether you decided to feed or not, I would have loved you through it."

Her heart ached, knowing he meant it. If Elijah had been there, he would have broken his own heart to keep her from this life, if she had asked him to. "And now?" She asked.

His eyes searched hers, and she wondered if he still saw her, when it occurred to her that it wasn't the monster that had changed the way he had looked at her. Instead, the monster within his own eyes rose up to meet her demons, and she knew he'd fight them off for her as long as she let him.

It wasn't the monster. He looked at her differently because he knew.

"Elijah..." she said softly. "Earlier, back in the cabin you asked if I had made my decision..." words escaped her, unsure of how to tell him she wished she could go home to Dean, how it didn't even matter when all was said and done - because she still lost both of them.

He shook his head. "Don't," he pleaded.

She held back her words, locking them in a piece of her heart he'd never quite be able to reach. "Okay," she whispered.

"We have an eternity to discover what we are, what we could be. No matter what that might look like, I promised to protect you. Always."

She smiled sadly at that, knowing she didn't deserve him. "And forever."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. "Come," he said, offering his hand.

She glanced down at it, contemplating this new life that awaited her, before slipping her hand into his.

*****

A few hours later Dean pulled back up to the bunker.

"What happened?" Sam asked, appearing in the doorway when he heard Baby's engine.

Dean wiped at his eyes, composing himself before turning to face his brother, his eyes hard and lifeless. "Nothing," he said, clearing his throat and moving around to the back of the car, popping the trunk. He threw the stake from his jacket inside with the rest of the weapons.

Sam moved to stand next to him, sure his brother had not only found her, but let her walk away. "Maybe Y/N won't end up a ripper. Maybe she..."

"You ever mention Y/N to me again, and I will break your nose."

Sam blanched. "Dean..."

"I mean it."

Sam swallowed, and cleared his throat, knowing Dean put up a wall he'd never get through, that his word was final. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

"Come on," Dean said gruffly, slamming the trunk. "We got work to do."

[floatingpetals]

Out of Water || Pt 2

Pairings: Mer!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mer!Steve Rogers (Mermaid AU)

Warnings: maybe a little language, fluffy fluff

Word Count: 2800+

Summary: Neither Steve nor Bucky could have known the horrors they had to face in order to make sure their mate was safe in their arms. Now that they were here, the two swore they were never going to lose it. They had their mate, their love and home, but in a world not their own. The climb was over but their shared journey was far from it.

A/N: Now I’m in my temp place I have plenty of time to work! I hope you all enjoy this next part! I know I sound like a broken record but pleassseee reblog if you like ❤ also, who can guess where they are before the reveal??? I hope you all enjoy!!!

*I will NOT be doing a tag list with this series. I think I’m going to be doing away with that considering the tags don’t actually work correctly half the time. You can follow my writing page that can be found in my header and set up notifications there.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 *Coming Soon* | Series Masterlist

“We’ll be taking off momentarily, so please make sure your carryon baggage is stowed securely, either in an overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you. Mobile phones and other electronic devices should be turned off or put into airplane mode.”

The announcement signaled the doors shut and the flight attendants started to make their rounds of checking the passengers. Y/N looked over to Steve and Bucky beside her, the two nervous and uncertain as they stared at their seat belts. She leaned over and took the seatbelt Steve, showing him how to tighten and buckle himself in. He shot her an uncertain smile and let out a deep shuttering breath. Bucky followed Y/N’s example and shakily buckled himself in.

“Hey,” Y/N reached out and took both their hands in hers. The two clung tightly to her hand, their nerves showing by the tremble in their hands. “I promise, you’ll be okay. I’m here.”

Steve swallowed thickly, and wrapped his free hand around her shoulder, hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her temple. Bucky brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

The plane jolted backward, moving away from the gate. Bucky and Steve both nearly flew out their skin, their eyes growing wide in fear. Y/N smiled gently and squeezed their hands.

“It’s alright.” She assured them. Bucky and Steve both swallowed thickly and nodded uncertainly. They sat back in their seats, both holding on tight to one of Y/N’s hands. 

The only thing keeping them from flying out of their seats and clawing at the windows to get out was the calmness Y/N exuded. She didn’t seem slightly bothered when the plane lurched forward suddenly. She had gone through everything with them beforehand, and while the panic was still there, it was less than what it could have been. Her knowing that this was supposed to happen, made them relax a tad more. Steve still didn’t like it, but it was the only way they could make this trip. He would have to get used to this if he wanted to travel the world with her in the future.

Bucky dared a glance out the window, the window he insisted on keeping open. He could see the ground rush by as the airplane started to make its way down the runway. His throat hitched in his throat when his back smashed against the seat, the airplane shooting forward as it took off. He watched in mixed fascination and horror as the plane took off the ground. Y/N gently squeezed his hand in reassurance, pulling his gaze away from the window to Y/N. She smiled and brought his hand up to press another kiss to the back of his hand and turned back to Steve.

Steve’s face had gone white, his head leaned back against the headrest with his eyes clenched shut. Bucky glanced at Y/N’s and Steve’s hand; Steve’s knuckles white from the tight grip he had on her. Y/N didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by his steel grip. She leaned up and whispered words Bucky couldn’t catch over the roar of the engine of the plane. Whatever she said, Steve notably relaxed.

His eyes fluttered open and Bucky felt a part of his heart crack at the terrified expression on his face. He let go of Y/N hand to reach over her shoulder and gently cupped the back of Steve’s neck, rubbing the sensitive spot below the thin line of his gills with his thumbs. Steve’s eyes shot over to Bucky, and he sagged back into Bucky’s touch, a tiny grin tugging on the corner of her lips. Y/N snorted and rolled her head back against Bucky’s shoulder behind her.

“It might distract him,” She titled her head back to speak softly into his ear. “But remember that’ll have to wait till we get to the hotel room.”

Bucky chuckled low and pressed a kiss to her temple. Now that they were more or less safely in the air, both Bucky and Steve were able to unclench. Bucky was staring out the window in awe, never having dreamed he could see the world the way he was. He tried to get Steve to look out, to see how tiny everything was, but the man was quite content remaining oblivious to the fact he was a speck of dust compared to the size of the world.

Y/N giggled every time Bucky would gasp as they passed through a cloud, his childlike wonder endearing. For Steve, she hooked him up with the inflight movie, giving him the noise-canceling headphones Tony insisted they’d need. After little debate from Steve, she put on How to Train Your Dragon. Steve had found the animation movies absolutely fascinating and they were already working through the Disney vault back home. He didn’t need to be told twice that he’d fall in love with the first movie, just like how he’d fall in love with the other two.  

Fortunately, the flight from the islands to their destination had no noticeable turbulence. She didn’t want them to go through more fear than they already were experiencing. There was only so much she could do to soothe them, and the terrifying bumps from the winds would only completely tear her hard work to shreds. 

Four hours later, they were gripping her hands once again when the plane hit the tarmac and skidded to halt. Y/N just let them grip tight, ignoring how her bones creaked under their grips. After twenty minutes of Steve getting frustrated by the people knocking into him as they stood and impatiently trying to shove themselves out of the plane, the trio made their way to the baggage claim, hand in hand. She could feel how tense they were through their grip. Only a little while longer, she thought.

The airport itself was older, low ceilings cramped halls that had false walls and tape up to hide the construction they were doing. There were so many people around them, bumping against them without caring how rude it was and Bucky was growing equally irritated. Steve had already reached that point and was glaring openly at the people that got too close. So far, it was working as a great deterrent, people were giving him a wide berth. Y/N found it amusing and unsurprisingly predictable.

Back home, they never had to worry about this. Their little private island kept them from the rest of the busy outside world. She tried telling them this might be too large of an undertaking for their first real trip, but the two were adamant they could handle this. It didn’t take a genius to look at their faces and see the regret on them.

“Alright, we’ll grab our suitcase and I’ll get us an Uber to take us to the hotel.” Y/N spoke, pulling out her phone from her pocket. It was still weird using the device, she hadn’t needed it since… Well since the incident. She didn’t have any friends back home she really needed to tell where she was and her job was easy to quit through email now that she had plenty of money. So the phone stayed in her bedside drawer collecting dust until this week.

Bucky was fascinated by the carousel and how the suitcases just seemed to appear from the little door in the wall. He asked Y/N a thousand questions on what it was and how it worked. She was more than willing to explain, and even made a mental note to put on How It’s Made later for him. She had a feeling he would sit and watch every episode back to back without complaint. Steve, however, was still leery of everything around him.

Y/N grabbed their suitcases from the carousel and led them down and out of the building. She directed them up the pathway into a parking garage where they were instructed to stand in marked off spot. Y/N fiddled with something on her phone before she nodded.

“Now we wait for our driver to show up.” She looked up at Steve and Bucky, who was nervously glancing around. People were standing in the groups they’d come with, some were stepping into cars and driving away. So much noise and voices caused their heads to spin. Briefly, they looked at one another and wondered if coming here was the right idea. Y/N frowned and stepped closer to say something. But, before she could her phone vibrated in her hand. She glanced at it before looking over to the line of cars. She sucked air through her teeth and exhaled the annoyance. “Come on. Our drivers here.”

She motioned for them to follow and walked over to the silver SUV. An older gentleman climbed out and smiled widely, helping them put their bags in the back before getting back into the driver seat. Y/N decided it was best to sit in the back with the two men and settled in the middle seat. Silence filled the SUV for a moment, the man focused on trying to leave before he glanced back at them in the mirror.

“Was your flight alright?” He asked. Y/N smiled widely and nodded.

“Yeah, it was surprisingly smooth.” She replied and glanced outside the window. Steve and Bucky remained silent, staring out the window with rapt attention. “It’s actually these two’s first flight ever, so I’m glad we didn’t have anything crazy happen.”

“Oh yeah?” The older gentleman moved the car with ease, despite the crazy drivers around them. They merged without warning and there were plenty of close calls. Even though it looked crazy, cars packed on the highway, no one seemed truly fazed. “Where’d you fly from?”

Steve tensed at the question, but Y/N was quick to pat his knee. The man was just making nice conversation, a normal social practice the two still didn’t understand fully. She did the talking and filled the twenty-minute drive with the driver to leave Bucky and Steve to ogle around them. When they reached the tunnel, Steve and Bucky flinched back.

“Yeah, the tunnel freaks a lot of people out too.” The driver chuckled. “But don’t worry, once we get through, you’re not far from your hotel. And then no more tunnels”

Not even five minutes later, the tunnel opened up and showed the towering buildings and hustle and bustle of the thriving city.

“Welcome to New York.”

Y/N heaved a relieved sigh and flung herself face-first into the bed. Bucky was right behind her, landing half off and half off. Y/N laughed, huffing at the weight against her back, a tired smile growing on her face. Bucky tugged her against him and sighed against her crown. She seconded that sentiment. She was exhausted, never good at the whole traveling places things. Not that she would ever tell them this, but the stress Steve and Bucky felt rubbed off on her as well and it only amplified her exhaustion.

A cool hand brushed against her forehead, the bed behind her dipping as Steve kneeled behind her. She rolled her head back and smiled warmly up at Steve. He leaned down and gently kissed her lips, lingering for a moment before he did the same with Bucky.

The moment, sweet and tender, was ruined by the ferocious growl that emanated from her stomach. Heat sprang to Y/N’s cheeks.  Bucky and Steve both gawked at her before they exploded into laughter. Y/N grumbled and tried to wiggle out of their grip. Bucky held her face and tried to stop his laughter.

“I’m sorry baby,” He snorted, peppering kisses across her cheeks. “Let’s get you something to eat before the beast gets louder.”

“Oh shut up!” Y/N growled or at least tried to. A grin tugged at the corner of her lips as she pushed out of his arms. “You two gonna sleep on the couch tonight or do you wanna take me out to eat?”

Both knew there was no threat behind her words, but knew it wasn’t smart to test how far she’d be willing to go. Steve smirked and wrapped her up in his arms for a hug, humming softly against her neck. She pretended to struggle but didn’t truly try to move back.

“Pick what you want, Buck and I don’t really have a preference.” He said. Y/N nodded and stepped back to get her phone. She leaned up against the desk and flipped through Yelp to see if anything sparked her interest.

“You both excited about this vacation?” She asked. Steve settled on the edge of the bed with Bucky pressed up against his side. Bucky grinned wide, despite the trepidation he felt under the surface.

“I am. I want to see as much as possible. There’s so much to do!”

Y/N nodded with a poorly concealed smirked. The two had no idea who big the city was, nor how filled with people it was, or how they’d be overwhelmed ten minutes into stepping outside. She was willing to indulge them though. They wanted to learn as much of her world as she wanted to learn of theirs. She already had plans to pull them out of the busy streets to someplace quiet throughout their days. 

“We can go to a few museums if you want. The Natural History is probably the first one we should go through. I warn you though, it’s huge so you’ll probably need to sit for a few minutes.” She glanced up from her phone and smiled warmly at the picture of the two. Steve had dragged a hand up to Bucky’s hair and was absently running his fingers through his hair. Pulling her gaze away, Y/N went back to finding a restaurant. “There’s Central Park we can walkthrough too. It’s pretty big though and definitely can’t do it in one day.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Steve’s agreed absently. She frowned and looked up once again. While she felt fairly tired, the two looked absolutely drained. Both had sagged into each other, using their giant frames to keep themselves propped up. Her heart swelled in her chest at the adorable sight. It also dawned on her that they were hit with the strain of travel a lot harder than she was. They weren’t used to the overwhelming parts of traveling, despite their lives being challenging. It was a different type of challenge.

Mind made up, she closed Yelp and opened DoorDash. They had all week to eat out. Eating in and relaxing seemed the better option as it was. They didn’t need anything else to overwhelm them today.

“Okay, you two,” Y/N’s voice jolted the two to attention, a set of bleary eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to clear the fog from their head. “Why don’t we order food for delivery? While we wait, we can shower and get into our pjs. Then we can get some sleep to get ready for tomorrow. Sound good?”

Steve’s brows furrowed for a moment. He wanted to argue that he was perfectly fine to get up and go out for dinner, but the longer he sat on the comfortable bed with his mate pressed up against him, the quicker he could feel the exhaustion seeping into his bones. Bucky spoke up first.

“Sounds good with me.” He sat up, a smirk growing on his lips. “On one condition.”

Y/N raised a brow at his tone. “Oh?”

“You gotta share the shower with us.” Steve sat taller, the exhaustion he felt just seconds ago flew right out the window. He was very interested in that plan. Y/N wasn’t surprised in the slightest, her smirk showing she more or less expect that to come out of Bucky’s mouth. She just rolled her eyes and went back to picking a restaurant, ducking her chin to hide her laugh.

“You’re asking like that wasn’t already a given.”

The words hadn’t even left her mouth yet before Bucky launched himself off the bed. Steve blinked and watched in astonishment as Bucky began stripping along the way, wondering where the heck that burst of energy came from. Y/N sighed and shook her head.

“Bucky, you gotta pick food first!” She called after.

“I’ll eat whatever! Get your cute butt in here!” Was the answering shout and the sound of the shower turning on. Y/N spun and pinned a stare to Steve, who still hadn’t moved from the bed.

“You know he’s picky. Go get him so we can order food.” She jerked her chin to the bathroom.

Steve chuckled and pushed off the bed, groaning as his bones creaked. He walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek with a soft yes dear and went to retrieve their third. Y/N watched him walk away fondly and listen to him argue with Bucky. They were going to have an interesting trip, that was for sure.

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One: Opposition (Colt x MC)

A/N:  Fourth one-shot for basketball!Colt. I struggled with a name (I wanted a Lakers one but couldn’t find one I liked) so Jaylen is for Jaylen Brown, king among men. I have one more currently planned after this.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~950 words

Rating: R (Swearing. References to hospital/baby/breastfeeding. Violence. Idiots idiots all around.)

Summary: A tiny newborn, an unexpected visitor, an unshakable family.

Ellie pulled Jaylen off her breast, grimacing. For something that was supposedly so natural, breastfeeding was a pain in the butt. She eased him carefully into the bassinet, making sure the cap covered all the downy soft black hair covering his head, and leaned back in the bed. 

The door to her room creaked open. She turned and, instead of her husband, an older man strode into the room, easing the door behind him closed before turning to study her intently.

She swallowed. She had never seen him before but she couldn’t ignore the sudden unease in her stomach. How did he get past security?

“Hello, Ellie.” He was clad in black, tattooed lines edging above his shirt, over the back of his hands. Intense eyes stared at her as he crossed his hands over his broad chest; his muscles were coiled, like a snake, and Ellie had the sudden sweeping terror that she was prey.

“Who…” She felt vulnerable, exposed, alone with only her newborn in this constricting room. “How did you get in here?”

He didn’t answer, instead nodding at the bassinet next to her. “Congratulations.”

She eyed the call button next to her, wondering if she could hit it before he reached the bed, when the door opened behind him.

“Hey, baby, sorry it took so long but they took fucking forever at the-” Colt raised his eyes and froze, tray of food crashing to the floor with a deafening clatter. Jaylen whined.

“Hello, Colt.” The man drawled.

He didn’t answer, and she sensed the hit before it happened: Colt stepping forward, the slight pivot of hips, tensing of his shoulder, and then his fist flew, landing with a sickening crack on the other man’s jaw.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Jaylen wailed.

~~~~~

Ellie slid into the driver’s seat, fixing the immobile figure next to her with a livid frown. “Well, the good news is that you’re not permanently banned from the hospital. Security was so mortified about the stranger breaking in that they agreed to let you back in but…” She trailed off. “Colt?”

He was tense, chin on his balled fist as he looked out the window, but his posture wasn’t what scared her. It was the single solitary tear tracking his cheek. She bit her lip. She had never seen Colt cry, ever, and she had sworn she had seen him filter through every human emotion, often in the span of seconds: fury and harsh fists raining blows on the court, those same hands gentle and giving at home. He was passionate, mercurial, emotions laid bare whether they coursed through him in conflict or peace. But she had never seen this.

“Colt?” She touched his arm. “What... Who was that?”

“My dad.”

She gasped. “Oh my… are you ok?”

“I don’t want him near Jaylen.” His voice wavered, left hand clenching and unclenching into a fist so tight his knuckles turned white. “I don’t want him near you. I don’t want to see him.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t care what he said to you, I don’t want him-”

“Colt.” She winced as she propelled her tired body forward, over the center console to slide into his lap, burying her face in his neck. “It’s ok. You don’t need to explain, you don’t need to qualify it. It’s ok.”

“He…” His voice caught and the splash of hot tears trailed down to her collarbone.

“I know.”

“For so fucking long, I…”

“I know.” She tucked her hands under his shirt, holding hard muscle and soft skin, sinking further into him.

“It’s been fucking 15 years-” His voice was low, spoken into her skin, and she struggled to hear the pained words. “I used to look for him, in the stands, every fucking game, when I was a kid, through high school, hell, college. And he shows up now?”

“Colt.” She sat up to stare into his eyes, red-rimmed and glistening. “He’s not your family. We are. We’re your family now and that’s all that matters.”

He wrapped his arms around her so he could kiss her, deeply, laying claim to her lips and her tongue as if it was another way of laying claim to her heart and their child and the family he had been denied. She pulled away when she needed to breathe but stayed close, resting her forehead against his and wiping the traces of tears from his cheeks.

“We’re your family, Colt,” she repeated.

“I know.”

“And right now, your wife who gave birth 36 hours ago wants to go back inside to where there is adequate medical attention.”

He smiled, boyishly soft, and Ellie's heart leapt. “Fine, fine.” 

She opened the passenger door and clambered off him. Outside, the sun was setting through a patchwork of clouds, only letting occasional rays filter softly to earth. The parking lot was still, quiet, Colt’s long legs clambering out beside her, wrapping a cautious arm around her waist.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t look for him anymore.”

“Hm?” Her body was sore but healing as she leaned on him for comfort.

“At games? I don’t look for him.” His fingers tightened around her hipbones. “I look for you.”

Her inhale was sudden, shaky; when she looked up, his eyes were red but clear, gazing down at her resolutely. “Colt...” Maybe they leaned on each other for comfort. 

“We’re the only Kanekos who matter.” His voice was soft but sure.

She beamed, pulling him down to gently meet his lips. “We are.” They walked back to the hospital, hand-in-hand, the only family she ever needed.

.

Tags:

Perma @desireepow-1986​ @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow @troublemakerinspace

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices​  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever​ @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @theeccentricbibliophile @dancingboba

[spohkh]

miracle on cornelia street [dean/castiel]

so BASICALLY sarah @adanceinasnowglobe and i were talking about what everyone would be up to post-series -- yknow, like, now that theyre all safe and healthy n everythings cool and destiel is officially together. yknow. as happened in canon -- and we were like so obviously destiel get a house, and thats kind of the basis of this verse so !! this is the foundational fic for what i HOPE will be a series of fun lil day-in-the-life drabbles, from both me and sarah!! 

ehehehe :-) enjoy!

read on AO3

The house is a quaint thing, sitting low and snug under a pair of shady oak trees in a quiet suburb just outside of downtown Lawrence. Its brickwork face is weathered—definitely in need of a good power wash—and the roof is just as worn. The bottom step to the porch slants unevenly, and the porch itself has cracks in the concrete. There are chips in the paint on the window frames, the iron porch railing is rusting, and who knows when the gutters were last given a proper cleaning.

There’s a lot of work to be done, but standing there in the small front lawn, Dean Winchester can’t say if he’s ever seen anyplace else so perfect as the house at 3767 Cornelia Street. Dean’s house—his home. His home with Cas.

“Can you believe it?” he quietly says to Miracle, who has been sitting patiently by Dean’s leg. Miracle tilts her head and wags her tail. Dean looks back up at the house. “Yeah, me neither.”

The sound of a familiar car rumbling up the road snaps Dean out of his reverie. He rubs a knuckle at his eye and clears his throat and tries to look like he hadn’t been standing in his front yard about to cry while talking to his dog, christ.

The car rolls to a stop on the curb just in front of the house. The driver’s side door opens, and Sam slowly unfolds his ridiculous limbs as he gets out. It’s always a wonder how he can fit himself into a car at all. Sam gives a dorky little wave as he ambles over to where Dean is standing.

Dean peers behind Sam, trying to see into the car. “What, no Eileen?”

“Hello to you, too. Dick,” he replies snarkily. “She’s wrapping up a work thing. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Dean sucks his teeth in disappointment. “Ah, well. Guess you can go home then.” Sam shoves at his shoulder. Dean just laughs and pulls Sam in for a proper hello hug.

“Why are you standing out here, anyway?” Sam asks when they part.

“Can’t a man just hang out in his own front yard? Accompanied by a dashing canine companion?” He leans down to pat Miracle on the head.

“I guess…” Sam looks down at Miracle. When she tips her head up and gazes back at him, Sam snorts.

“What?”

“Miracle on Cornelia Street,” Sam says with mirth.

Dean squints at him. “What?” he repeats, now more incredulous.

“You know—like Miracle on 34th Street. But we’re on Cornelia, so.” He nods down at the dog. “Miracle on Cornelia Street.”

“Dude.” Dean rolls his eyes at Sam’s goofy grin and starts walking up the path to the house, Miracle trotting behind him. “Shut up and come inside already.”

Sam follows after him, pausing just inside the threshold as he spots something on the doorframe. “Oh, classy,” he says, throwing a sardonic look to where D.W. and C.W. are scratched into the wood.

“Just wait,” Dean jokes with a toothy smile, “when I got the time I’m gonna draw a little heart around it.” He was joking, but now that he said it, he kind of wanted to.

Cas looks up from the stove when they walk into the dining room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old AC/DC tees, the logo all but worn away from being washed so many times. He’s usually in some ratty tee or other when lounging around these days. But in honor of Sam’s visit today (Cas’ words) and to seem a little more dressy short of donning his usual button-downs (Dean’s private opinion), he’s also wearing the cable-knit cardigan Sam got him as a gift last Christmas. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam leans against the counter that separates the dining and kitchen areas, craning his giraffe neck to catch a glimpse at the stove. “Hey, Cas! What’cha cooking?”

“Nothing. Dean made it. I was just watching the pot so it didn’t boil over.” He locks eyes with Dean, his intent stare very clearly communicating I did not touch the chili I added nothing I did not touch the dial I was just watching it like you asked so don’t even start.

Dean just smiles as he walks past the counter and steps into Cas’ space. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and busses Cas on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replies warmly. He’s gazing up at Dean with those summer afternoon blue eyes, standing in one of Dean’s shirts and that dorky cardigan, and Dean starts to get full of that feeling from out in the front yard again. If they were alone, Dean would probably say something recklessly sappy like I am so stupid in love with you.

As it is, Dean clears his throat and turns back to Sam, slinging an arm around Cas’ shoulders, and says, “He did the salad.”

Cas sneaks him a knowing look before, thankfully, putting his attention on Sam without commenting on Dean’s hasty redirection. “I did the salad,” Cas agrees blithely, and places the salad bowl on the counter for Sam to see, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam looks between the two of them, an amused tilt to his eyebrow that Dean implicitly distrusts. He’s definitely thinking mocking thoughts about the two of them. But he just quirks a smile and says, “It looks great.” Shrewd little diplomat.

Cas shifts to the side to see past Sam’s shoulder. Sam glances behind himself before shooting Cas a confused look.

“She’s still at work,” Dean tells Cas, guessing who he’s looking for. “Sadly.”

“What, am I not good enough?”

“Of course you are,” Cas promises earnestly, just as Dean says, “Well…”

Sam’s opening his mouth to retort, probably something absolutely scathing, when his phone chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket, a smile spreading over his face. “Speak of the devil,” he says, then tips his head with a grimace, “as it were. That was Eileen. She’ll be here soon, so I’m gonna go wash up.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall—“

“Dude, I know where it is. I did help you guys move in.”

Dean spreads his hands in assent. “Fine, christ, I swear never to be a good host to you in my home ever again. Go ahead and go take your dump now.”

“I’m not gonna—ohmygodnevermind.” He turns on his heel and huffs down the hall, Miracle trotting after him, the tags on her collar clinking together jauntily.

Dean reaches past Cas to turn the burner off, then lands his hand on Cas’ hip. “Have I told you today how cute you are in that sweater?”

“Yes.” Cas brings his hands up to cradle Dean’s face. “Four times.”

“Make it five.” Dean kisses him. He pulls Cas into a hug, pressing his face against Castiel’s shoulder. They sway into each other. After a warm moment, Dean says in a low voice, “The first family dinner in our house.”

Cas hums a soft, contented sound in agreement. “The first of many,” he responds, just as quiet. Dean squeezes him tighter. He knows they’re both thinking about Jack and Claire, their bedrooms sitting empty and waiting for whenever they can find the time to visit—and Kaia and Alex and Jody with Claire, if they can, and Charlie and her girlfriend, and Bobby, and all the other wayward extensions of their sprawling family caught out in the wind. Their house isn’t big enough to host everyone, but with Sam and Eileen up the block and the bunker just a few miles out, there’s plenty of room to put up people who come out their way. Dean has the hope that 3767 Cornelia Street becomes a common pitstop for folks—a suburban Roadhouse, a tidier (much tidier) Singer Salvage.

Dean presses a kiss against Cas’ neck, and Cas breathes a sweet little sigh that pushes all thoughts about future dinners right out the window. Fuck, this dinner could go out the window, for all he cares. He kisses a little higher up, right under Cas’ jawline, before pulling back to catch Castiel’s darkened gaze. “How ‘bout we ditch the nag and go have a private party of our own?”

“Dean, no. I worked really hard on that salad.” He sounds perfectly serious, but the playful glint in his eye gives him away. Dean snorts, mumbling oh, forgive me, Chef Cas as he leans in again.

Just as they kiss, Sam walks back in. “Hey, I think something’s wrong with your sink–- oh, sorry.”

“Huh?” Dean reluctantly pulls away as Sam clears his throat, looking sheepish. “What’s wrong with what, Sammy?”

“Uh, with your bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, what, you clogged the toilet?”

“Wha— N—  I DID NOT SHIT IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

“Then how did the toilet get messed up?”

“It’s the SINK, the SINK—”

“You took a shit in the sink?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“What? He started it.”

“Started WHAT?”

Dean snaps his fingers. “The end of the world.”

“Oh! My god!”

“I guess technically, yeah, since god is our kid...” He turns to Cas. “Weird, weird lives we lead.”

Cas just shakes his head, clearly exasperated. Sam has given up on speaking completely and has fallen back on making a gesture like he’s one second away from grabbing Dean by the throat.

“I was there for all twelve years of it,” Sam says to Cas, “and I still can’t believe you stayed with this guy.”

“Well,” Cas muses serenely, “you’ve been here a lot longer than me.”

Sam grimaces when Dean throws him his best shit-eating grin. Nothing like his two favorite people bonding over how much of a pain he is.

The sound of the front door opening distracts them, and then a voice calls, “Knock knock! The life of the party has arrived!”

“Eileen!” Sam exclaims happily. Miracle takes off down the hall, Sam hot on her heels.

Dean chuckles at Sam’s unabashed excitement, then gives Castiel another peck on the cheek before moving away from him. “Can you put everything out on the table? I’ll go check out the bathroom sitch real quick.”

Cas catches his hand as he starts to leave, softly saying his name. When Dean looks back at him, Cas smiles and says, “I love you.”

Dean wonders if maybe three time’s the charm and he should just give in to what his body wants him to do. If a man has a right to stand around and cry messily anywhere in his own home, surely the kitchen would be the place to do it. The kitchen, after all, is the heart of any house.

But Dean doesn’t. He indulges in a little sniffle, Cas’ eyes glimmering with knowing in the soft light. Dean brings Cas’ hand to his mouth and kisses the neat gold band around his finger, and he kisses each peaked knuckle, and he turns Cas’ hand over and kisses his palm and his wrist. Then he lets go and puts his own hand against Cas’ cheek, and says his recklessly sappy thing: “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

And the glowing feeling inside him doesn’t settle, only grows brighter.

Whatever’s wrong with the sink will be just one more thing to a long list of shit to deal with. Their house needs work, no denying. But Dean knows they’ve got plenty of time.

[pollylynn]

Title: Both/And WC: 2000

“Why do you think you have to choose?” — Jim Beckett, Watershed (5 x 24) 

The world is made up of landmines. The world is made up of lifelines. Both these things are true. One is easier to remember than the other. One is easier to see. 

She has buried the landmines herself. She has sown them all around her like bloodthirsty seeds, beginning with the trip. Beginning before that—with Stack. Before that—with Vaughn. Before that. Before . . . 

She heard somewhere, she read somewhere, he told her in some idle moment that it’s common to use goats where mines are thick on the ground. It’s common to let them pick their delicate way across unfamiliar terrain until the violence rears its head, until the goat is no long picking its delicate way anywhere. 

She’s thinking of that as she stares out the floor-to-ceiling window over a city that she thinks of through the eyes of her eighth grade self on an overnight field trip. She is rendering the memory in his voice, whether or not he is, in fact, the one who told her of the tragedy of goats, of the Hitchcockian suspense of landmines. His voice fills her head entirely before she turns and follows Freedman into his office. His voice. It’s a landmine. 

It throws her off her game—his voice talking about goats, about Princess Diana, about the Queen’s anti-goat, pro-landmine agenda. The eternal experience of him making her laugh, of him taking her mind off something,  of him tugging her kicking and screaming away from work because she’d been at it too long for no real reason than old habits. The sudden, pervasive presence of him where he has no place throws her utterly off her game, and she has almost tanked the whole interview before it even begins. But she does not, somehow, tank the interview. She doesn’t think she has. She doesn’t think. All the way back to the airport. All the way home. She does not think. 

Home is a conceptual landmine, and that breaks her fucking heart. She leans her head against the thick window of the plane and imagines herself a tourist—a visitor who’ll only see this sight from time to time and through the eyes of an outsider, through the eyes of someone who is constantly shocked but the changes—this building going up, this one coming down. This place closing, and this cute thing? It’s been open for months and she is shocked. 

In her mind, she has already moved on. She has crossed unfamiliar terrain, and in the either–or of her merciless psyche, there is no going back. 

Home is a literal landmine, too. Her clothing is a disaster out of context. Her sober suit and a crisp, absolutely boring blouse blouse buttoned all the way up to her chin are an ill-timed confession in navy blue. Her hair, sprayed into a neat, immovable bun at the nape of her neck with its one million precisely placed pins is a confession there is no point in making now. The goat has left the building. The goat has picked its delicate way well out into no man’s land, and there is no point. 

She has a text about a body the very second the plane is on the ground. She has three, four, five voice mails with his name beside them, with chipper recordings that she can’t bear to listen to, because in her either–or mind, she’s already left him. It's already done, and yet here she is in a tell-all suit. Her either–or mind is getting ahead of itself. 

There is a random assortment of clothing in the back of her car. A dark t-shirt, a blazer with a cracked button and a tear in the lining she’s meant to take to the tailor forever. There’s a pair of jeans jumbled into her gym bag for some reason that her inner goat finds fortunate in the moment. She wrestles her body into everything in the driver’s seat of her car, in the shadows of short-term parking. She excavates hairpins, and she is savage with the brush in freeing her hair. 

It’s no use. The quick change is no help at all. She, herself, is a landmine. She has had nothing but opportunities to confess, to teleport her off this unfamiliar terrain, rather than pick her delicate way across it until she’s not picking her way anywhere anymore. 

She could have confessed when he asked—You never did tell me what Stack wanted to talk to you about.

 She could have confessed right after she’d closed herself in her bedroom, door shut tight, lights off, blinds drawn, and in the gloom, squinted to make out the number on Stack’s card, and dialed. 

She could have confessed during the days of phone tag, the days of overtures, the days of noise about getting her down there for a face-to-face. She could have confessed at any moment during that raw, tempest-tossed period when she wanted it, didn’t want it, wanted it again, believed she’d get it, believed the very idea of her getting it was a delusion, believed they would string her along indefinitely and then nothing would come of it after all. 

She could have confessed, rather than let the lies of omission pile up. She could have confessed, but she has not. Instead, she has sowed landmines. She sows them even now with evasions, blank looks, homeopathic truths, and merciless tugs on the conversational steering wheel when he strays too close to unfamiliar terrain. 

***********************

There are lifelines, too, if she’ll only grab hold of any one of them. 

There is, unexpectedly, Captain Gates. She is shocked—an almost literal electric jolt—by the direct summons, by the revelation that Freedman has called the Captain. She is shocked, because she is apparently some kind of idiot who doesn’t know how resumes or jobs work. She is some kind of idiot standing there, shocked, as one of hundred landmines detonates and she  is discovered. 

But there is, unexpectedly, Captain Gates saying all the things she has not said to herself—that she has not allowed herself to say. She has drowned out this narrative with the lies she has been telling herself for weeks—commission sitting cozily alongside omission. No chance, Probably not, Just a long shot. These lies have been the mantras of her neither–nor mind, her darkest corners where the agents of self-sabotage lie in wait, because she cannot have—she does not deserve—anything good until she gets justice for her mother. Until, until.  

And now here is, unexpectedly, Captain Gates having already packed her bags for the land of something good and carried them to the metaphorical curb. 

Kate, this is the kind of work you were meant to be doing.

From what I hear, you’re on a short list

With any luck, this could be your last case. 

There is, unexpectedly, validation she has not allowed herself all this time. There are tears pricking behind her eyes because she has buried everything about this and the choices she has made—the necessary choices she has refused to make—have been bubbling, festering, eating away at her. And here, unexpectedly, is Captain Gates saying out loud one of the many things she has needed to hear—Work you were meant to be doing.

There is, predictably, Lanie. Her kind, stalwart, impatient, ass-kicking friend who is gracious enough not to roll her eyes at how exactly this is a re-run of a conversation from just a year ago, this time without even benefit of wine. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing—Yeah, but what if it is. There is Lanie who she could have been—should have been—talking to all the while. She should have been holding on with clenched teeth and white knuckles to this line to sanity, because at every point she has sown a land mine, and at every point, this has been true—Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Even now, this is true—Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

But the phone rings and she is silent. The phone rings and the lifeline slips through her fingers, taking with it raw flesh and the possibility of survival. 

*********************

She is discovered. There is a piece of paper fluttering to kiss the ground. There is a chain reaction.

What’s wrong with it is that you hid it from me . . .

It’s a simple statement, a stripped-to-the-bone statement, a true statement. In her either–or mind, in her neither–nor mind, she has cast him as a villain. She has imagined him a landmine. Everything self-destructive thing in her has whispered this, is still whispering this as she stands, fixed in place, and watches him go. Every self-destructive thing in her whispers that she can, should, will have nothing good. 

**********************

Her dad is not as kind as Lanie. He is nowhere near as patient. He is not as unambiguously affirming as Captain Gates, and she is sullen about it. She is transported back in time to the summer she was seventeen, when they were barely speaking and each of them tugged at her mother—each of them ran Johanna Beckett ragged as they insisted she play referee. 

She hunches into herself as he tells her truths. She is trampled beneath the weight of her own history—the weight of his cruelty in offering it up her, offering it up now: You know, right around here you always end them. Now why is that? 

She would like to hate him for it. She would like to show him the way she did the summer she was seventeen—the summer she bought her bike. She would like to pack a bag with a change of clothes and the meager contents of her secret savings account and sling one leg over the bike he hates. She would like to run away. 

She is running away. She isn’t running away. 

Her dad is a lifeline, too. I just want to be sure whatever decision you make, it’s because it’s what you want. Not because you’re afraid.  

She is not afraid. She I not simply afraid, though she has good reason to be now. She has good reason to be, in this minefield of her own making, but even now, she wants this. She wants him. She wants to be expansive and greedy. She wants to sow one last landmine right beneath her either–or mind, her neither–nor mind. 

She wants to have unambiguously asked him, like a fucking grown-up—Castle, where are we going? Where is this going? 

She wants to have picked up the phone the second she walked out of that bizarre conversation with Stack. She wants to have stepped right into his arms and wondered out loud, What the hell was that? She wants have tucked her bare feet beneath her on the couch and leaned into his side late into the night as they talked and talked and talked about it—what it could mean, how they could do this, how this might work, because it is not either–or, it is not neither–nor. It is not some fucking written-in-stone prophecy. 

She wants. She belatedly fucking wants. 

But he is a lifeline. He is, always has been, always will be her sturdiest, most steadfast lifeline. He shows her the rawness of his anger—all the places in his soul where the light has been snuffed out. He calls her out as unkind, ungrateful, oblivious to the work he has always done to lift her up, to still the sinister flicking tongue of her self-destructive impulses—I have had to scratch and claw for every inch. Even then, even through every agonizing second of his recitation of her sins, she knows he is a lifeline, if she will only grab hold. 

So whatever happens, and whatever you decide . . . 

A/N: Late, long, lousy, and Tumblr lost this post three times. A sign from the universe. This is always the worst stretch of the series. 

images via homeofthenutty

[wanderingcas]

5 times Dean had work to do, and the one time he actually enjoyed it.  pairing: dean/cas a commission for @jensenackhles <3 2k words

One 

Dean first heard the phrase a few weeks after his mom died.

John had checked them into a motel—one of the many that they had cycled through in the past few weeks. Sam was asleep in the crib, and John was on the opposite bed. Dean had woken up to a strange sound; he rolled over and saw John at the foot of the bed, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Dean had never seen his dad cry before. Even right after the fire, when he was telling the detectives what happened at the police station: completely dry-eyed. So seeing his dad cry was… strange. Dean wanted to make it stop. 

He pushed back the sheets and hopped off the bed. Walking on unsteady, sleepy toddler legs to his dad, he put either hand on John’s knees, looking up at him. John was clutching a worn picture of Mary between his fingers.

“Are you okay, dad?” Dean asked.

John continued to stare at the picture of Mary’s smiling face. After a moment, he sniffed. Wiped his face that was striped with tears with the back of his hand. He ruffled Dean’s hair and said gruffly, “Yeah, kid. I’m fine. Get back to sleep, okay? We got work to do in the morning.”

And the next morning in the car, when Sam was crying in his carseat and kicking up a storm, Dean patted his head and said, “It’s okay, Sammy, shh. Stop crying. We got work to do, okay? So you can’t cry. We got to work.” 

Sam just stared at him with big teary and trusting eyes. Dean didn’t even know what he was really saying at the time; what he was getting them into.

Two 

He didn’t make it a habit to say the words out loud often. He said them more to himself, as a mantra to keep himself on track. But sometimes they would slip out, when he really needed to orient himself: when he really needed to kick his own ass into gear and push down the emotions.

The second time he remembers saying it was when he was 25. He was driving to a case with Danny, the son of one of John’s hunting friends. John was out of commission from a nasty encounter with a wendigo, so they were tag-teaming the ghoul hunt. 

Dean felt his phone buzz, wedged between the driver’s seat and his leg. He pulled it up, glancing at it, just in case it was important. His stomach immediately sank when he saw Sam’s number.

Got to Stanford okay, in case you were wondering. Too hot here. Miss you and Dad. 

The muscles in Dean’s jaw jumped as he clenched it tighter.

“Who’s that?” Danny asked, cocking his shotgun. “Somethin’ about the case?”

“No,” Dean said. He pulled into the driveway of the house where the hauntings were taking place. Eased the Impala into park. “Focus up,” he commanded, cocking his own gun aggressively. “We got work to do.” 

Three 

The seal to the gates of hell are open. Ruby tricked them, and Sam triggered the apocalypse. 

Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

History is repeated again, where Dean is sitting helplessly on one hotel bed, Sam crying on the other. He’s bent at the waist, shoulders hunched, tears silently streaming. 

Dean knows that he’ll blame himself forever. He knows that this might break him. 

He knows he needs to say something.

Getting up unsteadily, he walks over to the bed and sits down on the other side of his brother. The bed creaks from his weight. “C’mon, Sam,” he says into the silence. “We didn’t know, okay? We couldn’t have seen it coming.”

Sam remains silent, glaring at the ground.

A lead in his gut, Dean reaches out a hand, and places it on Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta keep going, okay? We just… we gotta keep fighting. We can’t just sit down and take it.” 

“What’s the point, Dean?” Sam asks. He shrugs off Dean’s shoulder and twists around to glare at him. “Why even try, if I keep fucking everything up? Huh?”

“Because people need us, Sam,” Dean snaps. “We need to finish what we started. We gotta make sure the world is safe, okay? There’s no time to sit around and feel sorry for our damn selves.”

Sam stares at his hands, stonily silent.

Dean stands. Holds out a hand to his younger brother. “C’mon. We got work to do.” 

Sam glares at Dean’s hand for a moment before sighing resignedly. He takes it, and stands.

Four 

When Dean met Cas, a lot changed.

His view on angels not so much: he still thinks they’re a bunch of dicks. But the way that things aren’t always so black and white. That people—angels—can change. That Dean can maybe be… loved. Saved. Worthy of it. 

At least Cas seems to think he’s worth it, anyway. 

He tucks all these feelings into his back pocket; doesn’t want them to see the light of day. Because if they did… well. Then he would have more than his brother to be worried about. And in his line of work, any attachments are frankly a terrible decision.

Except, it’s Cas, and Dean can’t keep his eyes off him. 

And he stares at Cas a lot. He knows he does; it’s almost like there’s a magnet that pulls his eyes to Cas’s face and stays there. Sam notices it; Cas notices it; everyone notices it. Dean just… can’t seem to help it.

Maybe it’s that otherworldly look that he always has on his face. Maybe it’s the perpetual five o’clock shadow that paints his sharp jaw. Maybe it’s because Cas is usually staring right back at him, all up in Dean’s personal space no matter how much Dean complains about it (even though he really doesn’t mind. Not at all. He’d love to have Cas even closer, actually). 

Maybe it’s just because Dean has a damn crush on an angel and he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“So, you’re sweet on my brother, huh?” Gabriel asks Dean with a leering grin.

Dean snaps his eyes back into the room instead of watching Cas’s back leave the room. “What the fuck? No.” 

Across the room, Sam puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Dean wants to punch him so that he’ll finally respect his damn elders.

“Liar,” Gabriel says. 

“C’mon, that weirdo? In a trenchcoat? What are you smoking?”

“He has a… jeno se qua,” Gabriel says with a wave of his hand in the air. “A certain sexiness, if you will.” 

“I’m not sweet on him.” Dean can feel the blood rising in his cheeks, and he hates it. 

“Sure, Dean-o.” Gabriel winks. “Sure.” 

Cas walks back into the roomthen , looking adorably confused, and of course Dean’s blush increases. He tries to look casual as he leans against the wall with a glare, avoiding Cas’s eyes. 

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh at Gabriel batting his eyelashes in Cas’s direction. 

“Okay, knock it off, you idiots,” Dean snaps. “We got work to do.” 

Cas tilts his head in that adorable way, asking, “What do you want me to knock off, Dean?”

“Your pants,” says Gabriel casually. 

Sam loses it then, bursting into laughter. 

Five 

The apocalypse is done. By some miracle, they all lived through it—Cas, Bobby, and even Sam, who managed to push Lucifer out before throwing him into the pit. 

There’s no imminent danger, no immediate threat—which is probably why Sam decides to bring it up.

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?” Sam asks. They’re sitting at Bobby’s table, each nursing a beer. Sam is still exhausted from his encounter with Lucifer, so he’s not getting out to hunt much these days; they normally spend their nights like this, just soaking in the quiet before the next inevitable storm.

Dean looks at his brother incredulously. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Sam says. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. I see the way you look at him.” 

Dean grumbles, sipping at his beer. 

“Dean.” Sam sets his beer down. “The world is quiet. For once. The apocalypse is avoided, Michael and Lucifer are in the cage, just—there will be crap that comes up later. It can’t be avoided. But at least now, in this quiet moment, you can figure things out. With him.”

“Just leave it alone, Sam,” Dean sighs. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. Snatching his beer off the table, he says, “Think I’m gonna finish this outside.” 

He ignores Sam’s worried eyes that follow him out of the house. 

Leaning against the porch railing, he sips at his beer, glaring out into the salvage yard. Something familiar catches his eye: a figure wrapped in a trench coat, head tilted back and staring up at the stars. 

Dean takes a steadying pull of beer before stomping down the porch steps. He stands next to Cas, the neck of his beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. Cas gives him a nod of acknowledgement before looking back up at the twinkling stars above them. 

Clearing his throat, Dean says gruffly, “So, you thinkin’ of going back there?”

“Back there?” Cas asks.

“To, you know.” Dean waves his beer at the sky. “To Heaven.” 

“Heaven is not in the sky, Dean,” Cas chides.

“Okay, whatever. Just answer the damn question: are you going back?”

Cas lifts one shoulder in barely a shrug. He looks at Dean then, blue eyes sparkling in the night. “I might not go back—if I have a reason to stay.” 

“Well, you might have one,” Dean says. “There’s plenty more shit to take care of down here. Rumor has it Raphael is pissed about you rebelling against the apocalypse, so he’ll probably stir some shit up that you have to—”

“Dean.” Cas turns to him, suddenly very serious. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

Dean can feel his breath catch in his throat. He realizes that he could lie. Could laugh it off with a joke or a snarky comment, like he usually does. But he knows it’s now or never. Cas could leave. He’d do anything to stop that. 

“Dean,” Cas says again. There’s a filter of emotion that comes through to his eyes—it looks like hope. That makes Dean crack. 

“Maybe you do have a reason,” Dean says. “Maybe we want you to, I don’t know—stay.” He looks at the ground. “Maybe I want you to stay.” 

Cas takes Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart rate increases as Cas rubs his thumb against Dean’s calloused knuckles. “I want to stay, too.” 

“Good, that’s, uh.” Dean smiles wide. Steps closer to Cas so that their chests are nearly touching. “That’s good, Cas.” 

+1

Dean asks Cas to marry him six months later on the hood of the Impala, burgers and beers between them. 

He doesn’t see the point in waiting when he just…. knows. Cas seems to know too, since Dean can barely get out the question before Cas is tackling him to the hood and kissing him senseless, whispering Yes between each breath. 

Sam cries when they tell him. Of course. Bobby pretends not to get emotional, but Dean sees him wiping at his face a minute later. The angels are, of course, pissed—but Cas couldn’t care less. 

Apparently Cas had been planning to ask Dean from the beginning—he and Charlie had even been making a wedding scrapbook with Charlie in the past few months.

Cas pulls out the scrapbook to show Dean the next morning, both in their pajamas and sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table. His cheeks are stained from embarrassment, unsure how Dean will take it.

But Dean finds it the least embarrassing thing in the world—he just flips through the pages and pages of wedding decorations, tuxes, and rings, and gets increasingly choked up. He almost loses it when he sees the Enochian words for “Forever” inscribed on a ring that Charlie made in photoshop as a mock-up. 

Dean puts down his coffee, and kisses his fiance soundly. When he pulls back, Cas is smiling, bright as the rising sun. 

Shutting the book, Dean stands, and grabs Cas’s hand with a wink. “Well, Cas. Looks like we got work to do.”

[mrcharlesashford]

TW: Violence, guns, drugs and drug use

Charles was finally a free man. Man he felt good. He was treated well in jail despite the circumstances. His fiancée played a role in that. She had been keeping his kingdom up and running like a Queen should. He was the king of Vegas or so he thought. It was just a matter of time before everyone else realized it too.

Stepping out of the gates, he took a deep breath of the air in and sighed. As his driver come to a stop in front of him, he pulled open the door and stepped inside as he gave instructions to head to docks. He had a nice package waiting for him. Cracking his knuckles, he pulled out his phone and looked at the time. He wouldn’t be expected home for sometime. He could take care of some things before he made his way home to her.

Taking his credit card out of his wallet, he dipped it into the block of coke and snorted it as he felt the drugs go into his system. His head fell back as he felt his body relax a bit. “That’s some good shit, tell them we want more of it.” He told the gentleman running the docks for him that checked his shipments in. “That’s gonna sell like hot cakes around here especially to these brides that want to get one in before the big day.” He tucked his wallet back into his pocket and moved back to his car where Dum Dum was waiting for him.

As he was driving back to his home, he passed a face on the street that looked familiar and told Dum Dum to stop the car. Jumping out of it, he moved over to the man and pulled him into the alley way by the neck of his shirt. He wasn’t trying to end up back in prison by scaring the life out of regular civilians especially tourists. It was the man that his crew had found the tags from, “Who the fuck are you?” He asked before bringing his fist up to his face. The man looked sketchy. Looked like a hit man that he would normally hire, but instead here he was getting the answers for himself. He wasn’t thinking things through with the drug coursing through his system along with his anger for being locked away for over a month it felt like.

When the guy just started laughing at him, he banged his head against the concrete wall. “The hell are you laughing at?” That only led him to getting more laughter as a response which only fueled his anger. Pulling his gun from his waist ban, he pointed it at the man. “Now let’s try this again. Who the fuck do you think you’re laughing at?” He yelled at his face, spittle landing against the man’s face. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of shoes on concrete that he realized he wasn’t alone anymore but that didn’t make him drop the gun from his hand or from against the man’s temple.

[wichols]

Hi! For the ohshc writing prompt, Haruhi x Takashi for either 'Please don't cry' or 'You know I have feelings for you, right?' No need to if you don't want to though! Thanks for your time!

Dear anon, my brain craved mafia au and that is what it delivered. Much angst, such wow. Although I somehow managed to use both prompts even though the second one was more of an afterthought. I hope you all enjoy this

Brutality Mixed with Intimacy

Pairing: Takashi x Haruhi

Word Count: 1,458 Trigger Warning/Tags: Mafia AU, Violence, Blood, Vague Description of Bodily Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Human Trafficking 

“STOP!”

The sounds of fists slamming into fractured bones were finally silenced. His mind now fully aware of the pair of arms wrapped around his waist tugging helplessly. She watched the blood drip off his knuckles and pool next to the unconscious body slumped against the brick wall. His voice seemed miles away when he spoke, staring down at the body. “You weren’t supposed to see this.” His hands wiped quietly against the blood-stained denim. “But I couldn’t wait any longer.” Takashi’s voice trailed off as he gazed at her. He felt little trickles of blood and sweat run down his cheeks, soaking into his crisp button-down. 

Backpedaling unsteadily, Haruhi braced herself against the opposite wall of the body. She felt her mind reeling at the scene before her. The air hung heavy with fresh blood and a sweet scent of expensive cologne. “What?” “We didn’t anticipate you leaving the library so early.” Taking a tentative step forward he watched her shift unsteadily out into the light of the alley opening. Her head shook almost robotically while her body subconsciously created more distance between them, sliding against the wall. “The job went south. We all knew the kind of danger you were in but Kyoya wanted to wait longer. He still needed another piece of evidence to have him convicted.” It hurt to watch the way she looked at him. Like he was a monster or a wild animal that finally cornered its prey. Her eyes were blown wide and stunned by the few stray blood splatters speckled along her forearms. The night air nipped between them. Her mind was screaming ‘run’ but her feet were planted. “The way he talked about you and…...your body. I just…. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t let him spend another second talking about what he was going to do to you. We thought we had more time but-” “What was he going to do Takashi?” Glancing back between the unconscious man and Haruhi he sighed. “I don’t want to tell you.” “Tell me.” Her voice whimpered. “This man was a part of an underground human trafficking ring that preys on single women. They are sold to the highest bidder and never heard from again. We were just about to bust open everything but-” “But what Takashi.” His voice felt like ice running through her soul. “You were never going to make it to the drop off location.” 

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. “He was instructed to lure you to the rendezvous point and then you were to be sent to the head of the ring, except-” his heart clenched at the thought of losing her “that he wanted you for himself. Had I not stepped in we would have not only lost you in the process but our main piece of evidence for the case.” “So I was used as bait?” Haruhi’s body felt numb, stuck somewhere between reality and another dimension. Human trafficking? Ring leader? Closing her eyes she tried to take an even breath to calm her frazzled nerves. Loose gravel crunched underfoot as he stepped closer to Haruhi. More than anything he wanted her to continue living her life. To be the successful woman she always dreamed of becoming not some subservient fuck toy for some low life bastard. 

She felt two warm hands cup her face gently, the connection made her stomach churn. The same hands that just got done pounding in someone’s skull were now caressing her cheeks like lovers would do in the quiet of the night. Brutality mixed with intimacy. “Please don’t cry.” Takashi allowed himself to stroke away a few of her tears with his blood-smeared hands. Something inside of him cracked seeing her so scared, the way her body shook in his grasp.  In his rage, he did the one thing he never wanted to do, expose her to the inner workings of the group. How could he ever begin to explain how they got here? How they used her for the greater good? Their Haruhi? His Haruhi? She was the unsuspecting black widow. Her ignorance of their group and their deals made her into the perfect candidate. She trusted without regard. Playing the role they needed. And this job was supposed to be no different. It enraged him how he allowed them to use her for so long. “Stop Takashi, you’re hurting me.” Haruhi’s voice quivered. 

Her small plea brought him back into the present. His hands gripped tightly around her face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Haruhi. I would never…” His hands left her face as if she was made of fire.  She brought her own hands clutching her face, wiping desperately to remove her tears and the blood smoothed over her cheeks. Her wide eyes stared back at him. “You killed someone.” Glancing back at the barely moving body he found himself staring at the man’s mangled face. “He isn’t dead.” Yet. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that this isn’t the first time and that soon this place would be crawling with others to clean up the mess and remedy their current situation. “I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?” His hand reached for hers. Flinching away from his touch she eyed him cautiously. “How can I trust you after this?” Real shit show we have now Ootori. Bending down on one knee he reached out again offering his hand to her. Haruhi stood there looking down at the man covered in the blood of another human. Did she truly know who was kneeling before her? How long had this been going on? Her mind raced with more questions than answers she dared not ask for. Her fingers lightly settling on the tips of his hand. “You know that I have had feelings for you some time now, right?” His eyes looked up at hers, watching her face for even the slightest reaction. “More than anything all I ever wanted to do was keep you away from the cruelties of this world but myself and the others felt responsible for handling things outside the control of the government. And if you can even bear to be around me after this I will be eternally grateful but I need you to follow the instructions I give you exactly how I tell you. After that, I will tell you everything. Can you do that for me?” She allowed herself the smallest of nods, urging him to continue. “I am going to give you a business card. You need to walk two blocks south and sit on the bench next to the phonebooth. Do your best to not make eye contact with anyone. They will send an average looking black car within a few minutes. Hand the driver the card and go to the undisclosed location to clean up. Anything you need or want will be provided at no expense.” Twisting his wrist around he quickly checked the time before continuing. “Give me three hours and I will tell you everything you need to know. Deal?”

“Okay.” Springing up from bended knee he brought her into a hug tucking her swiftly into his chest. “I love you.” Leaning down he placed a small kiss into her hair before releasing her. “Three hours, I swear.” He watched her shift up her hood to cover her face before turning left out of the alley. 

Once she was out of sight he turned back to the man slumped against the wall. Pressing two fingers against his throat he confirmed that the man was still alive. Tapping the earpiece twice he activated the location feature. An additional tap to begin speaking. “You heard all of that Shadow Lord?” “Yes, I will have the additional team pick her up and bring her to the west wing of the compound.” A pregnant pause lingered between them. “Now that she knows about the operation she has no choice. You know what we have to do with her don’t you?” “I never wanted her to be a knowing participant.” “I know. We can make sure she lives a relatively normal life with him.” “But I love her. More than he ever could.” “She will suspect him the least. You know the boss doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, Tamaki is the cleanest out of all of us. She will be able to live a comfortable life. And more importantly, she will be safe. She will be here soon and I need to alert the staff. See you shortly.”

One tiny beep later and Takashi was alone with their mark. “You just had to be selfish didn’t you, fucking prick?”

[steebharringt0n]

sanctuary - part 8

summary: Subject 001. That’s what you’ve been called your whole life. You’ve known nothing but pain, violence, and isolation. You were their greatest secret weapon, but when your final mission is to ensure the end of the universe, you escape to Hawkins, Indiana to team up with Eleven and to put an end to all this chaos, once and for all - you just never expected to fall in love with the resident bad boy along the way.

rating: m

pairing: billy hargrove x reader

warning: graphic violence, slurs, abuse, curse words.

A/N: drama! angst! violence! billy being a dick! remember if you’re not tagged it’s because i can’t tag you! enjoy!

001. prologue 002. firestarter 003. spitfire 004. friend 005. sister 006. plans 007. feelings

--- 008. found

Earlier that day …

“Byers residence, Joyce speaking”

“Hey it’s me”

Joyce smiles at the sound of Hopper’s voice. She leans up against her kitchen wall, twirling the phone cable around her finger. “Hop! Everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you this early”

Hopper brushes a hand over his face, he’s exhausted. They’ve spent the last hour packing everything up, cutting their anticipated camping trip short. He wasn’t expecting to leave so soon, but Eleven has been unusually quiet, traumatized by the dream she had. She begged Hopper to take her back home, she didn’t feel safe in the forest and all she wanted to do was to be in her bedroom, somewhere familiar, safe. Mike had been attached by her side the entire time since waking up - making sure that she wasn’t alone.

They were currently stopped at a rest area, Hopper enclosed himself in a payphone booth while Steve watched the kids take bathroom breaks.

“Yeah, we’re all fine, El just … is there anything weird going on in Hawkins?” he questions.

Joyce frowns, her eyes then catch the magnets that keep falling off of her fridge, she groans loudly, “Other than my magnets not working, and other than Starcourt Mall running more businesses out, everything is perfectly normal, why? Is everything okay?”

Hopper leans his head against the glass, closing his eyes for a second, “Yeah, El is just not feeling well, she thinks something bad is going on. I just think she’s homesick or something”

“Well how long until you guys arrive at Hawkins?” 

Hopper checks his watch, it’s 1 PM on a Saturday, they still had ways away. “We still got hours to go, we might just end up crashing at a motel for the night”

Joyce nods, “Well, just give me a call if something comes up okay? Say hello to Will for me”

“Will do, bye Joyce”

“Bye Hop”

---

Billy Hargrove wasn’t one to easily scare.

The years of abuse that was railed on him hardened him into a stoic, cold man. Showing emotions was a sign of weakness, that mantra was drilled in his head for as long as he can remember. Any time he would even think about showing an ounce of emotion, he would swallow it down, shoving it into the recesses of his mind. 

But when he saw you, drunk out of your mind, bleeding out of your nose and on the verge of passing out - it scared him.

Watching you fall off the bed was as if his life was suddenly thrown into slow motion. First your knees buckled under your weight, then your body swung to the side, followed by your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your perfectly curled lashes fluttering shut. He wasn’t sure how he found himself running to catch you, but his legs worked faster than his mind. He was prepared to catch you, his legs planted on the floor, arms outstretched, ready to support your limp body. 

You felt light in his arms, like dead weight. His heart was pounding furiously, his brow was thick with sweat. The chaos of the moment sobered him up and all that mattered at the moment was to make sure that you weren’t hurt because he knows you’ve been through so much and this was the last thing you needed at the moment.

He cradled you in his arms, adjusting your body so that you fit snug in his arms. He carefully placed his ear towards your mouth, he hears shallow gasps come from your mouth. You’re alive - he lets out a sigh of relief.

“She’s okay … she’s just passed out” he tells Nancy and Jonathan as they stood by the door, their facial expressions have panic written all over them. They just want this night to be over at this point.

Billy’s gaze doesn’t leave your face. His hand suddenly finds itself pushing a strand of your hair behind your hair. Your face has mascara streaks coming down the apples of your blushed cheeks, black stains trailing down. The blood has stopped flowing out of your nose, but it’s dried, cracked on your skin.

He turns to face Nancy and Jonathan, walking towards them as he adjusts your head, resting comfortably on his bicep, your legs dangling. He steps out the broken door, walking over the debris and over Tommy H. who’s been whining in pain this whole time. 

“What the fuck?! Who’s going to pay for all of this?!” Stacy bellows at the crowd forming by the door. Her parents bedroom door has been ruined, along with her hallway. Billy steps around her, making sure that your legs or head doesn’t hit a wall, ignoring her cries.

“Why don’t you ask your rapist friend to pay for it” Jonathan sneers at her, following closely behind Billy.

The trio make their way outside where the party is still going on - unbeknownst to those that are hanging outside.

“I’m taking her home” Billy announces as the three of you reach his camaro. He gently places you on your feet, resting your body on his camaro as he quickly fumbles through his pockets for his keys.

“No way is she riding home with you Hargrove, you’ve caused enough damage to her” Nancy spits at him. She knows none of this would have happened if he wasn’t such a jerk to her. She knows it, he knows it, and the words sting Billy, much more than he would like.

He ignores Nancy as he opens the passenger car door, picking you back up and placing you in the seat. 

“Billy, stop! Put her in my car!” Nancy barks at him. He slams the passenger car shut, and twists his body to face Nancy. His anger is quickly reaching a boiling point and the last thing he wants to do right now is explode on Nancy.

“Wheeler,” he speaks through clenched teeth, “I know I fucked up, let me just … fucking take her home okay?” he runs his hand through his wild curls. Nancy leers at him, her eyes narrowed at the flustered blond. She doesn’t trust him, she’s never trusted him. She feels Jonathan tug at her shoulder, he’s much more empathetic than she is.

“Nancy, it’s late, just let him take her home. We’ll meet him there, right Billy?” Jonathan looks up at Billy, who in return gives him a quick nod. Nancy huffs, she hates losing, but Jonathan makes a point.

“I swear to fucking god if you’re not there … “ she begins, her fists balled up at her side.

Billy rolls his eyes as he walks over to the driver side, opening the car door and settling himself in. He rolls down his window as he reaches for a cigarette in his center console, placing the stick in his mouth. The camaro comes alive with the twist of his key and he quickly peels out of the neighborhood, leaving Jonathan and Nancy behind.

The drive to Nancy’s house isn’t long, but it’s quiet. He doesn’t turn on the radio for yours and his sake. He reaches in his pocket for his zippo lighter as he balances the cigarette stick in between his lips. He flips it open, and swipes his thumb over it,

Click, click, click

It doesn’t turn on. 

“Motherfucker … “ he mutters to himself. His attention is suddenly swept away when he hears a soft snap, he looks over at you and swallows thickly.

Your arm is weakly outstretched, the dimmest flame appears from your fingers, almost barely lit. Your eyes are barely open, but even at your weakest you always still wish to help. Billy slows down his driving, his attention fully focused on you.

“Hey, hey, put it out, don’t use your energy” he softly speaks to you, gently grabbing your hand and putting it back on your lap. You give out the weakest chuckle, “Concerned about me now are you?”

He grunts, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, placing the cigarette out of his mouth and into his shirt pocket. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to focus his attention back on the road, the camaro speeding up. Your eyes flutter shut, you can barely keep them open. You mentally tell yourself not to ever drink alcohol again because your head feels like it’s been slammed on the ground - multiple times.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks, glancing over at you.

You sluggishly shrug, sitting upright now as you adjust yourself, “You being a dick to me, and seeing a girl suck on your neck like some sort of animal”

Billy’s nostril’s flare, his hand grips the steering wheel tight; knuckles turning white. He’s not quite sure how to answer you because he knows he fucked up, his ego is just too big to admit it, and way too big to admit that he cares for you. But he decides to bite the bullet. He slows the car down, pulling off to the side until it reaches a complete stop. You don’t react as you watch him pull the car into park, but he’s still unable to face you. 

There’s an awkward silence between the two of you. You decide not to say anything because well, frankly, it isn’t your job to say anything. Billy was the one who hurt your feelings, not the other way around. He lets out a huff, twisting his body to face you, he rubs his large hand over his face,

“I fucked up. I’m sorry, okay?”

You don’t answer him, crossing your arms and looking out into the distance. 

“One … “ he calls you by your name, your old name.

“That’s not my name” you snap, your fingers suddenly find themselves scratching at your tattoo, “That’s my old name. My name is Y/N”

Billy’s forehead puckers, his eyebrows furrowed together, “What?”

“I said my name is Y/N. I didn’t like my old name … reminds me of where I came from.” you shift in your seat, bringing your arms close to your chest as you avoid eye contact with him.

Billy sighs, rolling his eyes, “Look Y/N, I said I’m sorry alright?”

“Why are you here? Why are you taking me home?” you suddenly snap at him, shifting your body so that you’re now fully facing him. “You left me yesterday night with no answer, and tonight you were a huge asshole for reasons that my mind cannot understand. You make me feel these stupid butterflies whenever you’re around a - and I don’t understand why because one second you’re nice and the next you’re not, I - I don’t know if it’s just a guy thing because I’ve never been around guys like you before but it sucks! I hate it! I’m so confused with all these feelings you’re making me feel, but you’ve really hurt my heart tonight and I don’t think I can take being your friend if you’re going to keep doing this to me”

The only sounds in the car are your heavy breathing. Your head is pounding, swirling. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you were just tired of his antics, you’re not quite sure. Billy is stunned, quiet. It’s only been about 24 hours since he’s met you but you’ve thrown his life in a whirl. He’s never one to care for anyone, let alone a girl who he’s just met. But you’ve attached yourself deep inside his heart for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s because you’re just as broken as he is.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve finally given yourself the power to right your wrongs - something Billy couldn’t face himself because he knows he’s hurt people; he’s hurt Max, he’s hurt Lucas, he’s hurt Steve and countless others. You’re here, trying to save everyone from this evil entity while he’s just counting the seconds till he’s back in California. He’s a selfish, weak man, and you’re a selfless, determined woman. You are everything he wishes he could be in a person. He has become so accustomed of cold, fleeting touches that when you came in with your warm hands and comforted him at the diner, he was left stunned, touched. He was left craving more and it fucking terrified him.

And it really didn’t help that he was also attracted to you.

Realizing all of this in his head, Billy doesn’t say a word as he starts up his car again, refusing to face you. Refusing to face the truth. 

You stare at him with a scowl on your face, angry that he didn’t give you an answer. “Just drop me off at Nancy’s I don’t wanna see you again” you mutter, clenching your jaw.

Billy suddenly hits the brakes hard, flinging your body forward. You glare at him, “What the fuck!”

“You! This is all your fault!” he screams at you, he’s unhinged, angry.

Your eyes widen, an incredulous expression takes over your face, “My fault?! I’m here so that you won’t die!”

“My life was perfectly fucking fine before you came in, and you - you show up and you think you can make me care for you? You think we’re friends? You think you can touch my hand and pretend that you care for me?”

“I do care for you dumbass!”

“Well don’t! I don’t need your pity!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!”

The tension between the two of you was thick. You could see the veins in his forehead pulsate as he leered angrily at you. You returned the look back, your chest heaving wildly as you felt tears prick your eyes. You quickly wiped them away, refusing to let him see you cry. Your bottom lip quivered as you hugged yourself, lowering your head so that he wouldn’t see your face. 

He finally pulled into Nancy’s neighborhood. His car rolled into a stop and you quickly jumped out, slamming his door shut and not looking back at him. You made quick strides towards the back of Nancy’s house as you heard his car quickly speed away. 

He watched as your figure disappeared into the darkness, he was clenching his jaw so hard he swore for a second that he was going to crush his teeth. He put the car back into drive and sped off, not even giving you a second glance. 

Driving down the road, he twists the knob on his car, blasting music to distract him of the emotions that are currently toying with his head and heart. 

After all that we’ve been through, I will make it up to you, I’m sorry

He huffs angrily, he twists the knob again, hoping to hear a different song.

Take me back in time, maybe I can forget, Turn a different corner and we never would have met, would you care? I don’t understand it, for you it’s a breeze Little by little, you’ve brought me to my knees

He punches the knob, turning the radio off. The last thing he needed to hear was a Wham! song, especially one about heartbreak. He grabs the cigarette out of his pocket and shoves it into his mouth. He takes the zippo lighter from the center console and flips it open, flicking it with his thumb but as luck would have it, it doesn’t turn on.

This sets him over the edge. He’d been bottling up his emotions all night and the alcohol in his system didn’t help. He angrily chucks the lighter on the ground, not caring where it lands in his car. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and he feels hot tears prick his bloodshot eyes. 

Don’t cry, don’t be a bitch, he tells himself.

He carefully pulls his car over to the side of the road. He inhales deeply, letting his head rest on the steering wheel while he recomposed himself. 

You hurt my heart

She defended you!

I do care for you dumbass!

The words swirl around in his head like a song stuck on repeat. His heart is pounding furiously, and he feels lightheaded. There could have been much better ways for him to handle this situation, but Billy does what Billy does best, and that’s push people away because he knows it’s better than dealing with heartbreak or the stupid emotions that come with it. He’s only truly ever cared for one woman in his life, and she left him with a monster.

Never again would he go through that pain, even if it meant completely shutting you out.

He grits his teeth and pulls his head up, staring into the dark distance of the road. He starts the car back up and drives away into the night.

---

“Stupid Billy” you mutter to yourself, sitting on the cold pavement of Nancy’s backyard as you waited for her and Jonathan to arrive. The back door was locked and Nancy had the key, you didn’t mind waiting outside as the cool air helped sober you up. Still your head felt like it had been punched, and the feeling of nausea was starting to hit your stomach. You pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging your legs. You rested your head on knees as you stared out into the darkness.

Nancy’s backyard wasn’t fully gated, it lead out to a dark forest that one would probably find themselves getting lost in.

You sigh heavily, waiting for any sign of Nancy and Jonathan to arrive. You start to fiddle with the tip of the boots that Nancy let you borrow, scratching off the scuff. It was then you hear a sudden rustle in the trees. You perked up, eyes narrowing towards the darkness. You knew it couldn’t be Nancy or Jonathan, you didn’t hear their car pull in, but your adrenaline starts to surge a little.

You carefully stand up, you walk towards the trees, quietly, carefully.

“Is anyone there?” you ask.

You suddenly hear an all too familiar noise come from the trees. A noise that wrought you with nightmares, a noise that you wished you never had the pleasure of hearing again, but it’s here and that’s when the reality of the situation settles in your head.

Brenner is here, he’s found you.

The blood drains from your face as the demogorgon slowly appears from the trees, creeping its way towards you.

“Hey! Y/N, you back there?”

“STOP, DON’T MOVE!” 

You quickly glance behind you and see Nancy and Jonathan walking towards your way. But they do as you tell them, and when they realize why you’ve told them not to move, they instantly pale. Nancy grabs onto Jonathan, her breath hitches as he pulls her behind him.

“Don’t move, don’t make a sound” you instruct them.

The demogorgon screeches at you, opening its mouth as it prepares to attack you.

You crack your neck, preparing yourself for it to lunge at you. But you have a plan, you’re more than ready to kill this thing.

“You’ve fucked with me for the last time you piece of shit” you seethe at it. It roars at you as it charges towards you, but stand your ground, watching as it comes running at you.

You give it a smirk as you flick your head towards it, and the demogorgon instantly catches on fire. It screeches in pain as it’s brought down to it’s knees, the flames consuming it’s flesh. You stomp your way over to it and you grab it’s large neck. With the twist of your hands, you snap it’s neck in half, instantly stopping the screeches from his monstrous mouth. You let go of it’s body as the flames continue to burn through it, a soft thud as it lands in the grass.

Nancy and Jonathan watch in horror as the flames devour the demogorgon’s body. 

You brush away the fresh blood from your nose, you usually wouldn’t bleed at such a simple task but your body is exhausted, still reeling from your argument with Billy, and you’re pretty sure there is alcohol still lingering inside of you.

“What the fuck” Nancy chokes out, still holding onto Jonathan for dear life. 

You glance up at the pair, swallowing thickly as you prepare to tell them the bad news,

“Brenner is here, he knows I’m here. His plan has been set into motion”

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