#and then whipping his jacket off i do not think he cares about football that much lol

[mjonthetrack]

strange

Prologue "All Hail the Queen"

Friday night in Hawkins, Indiana.

The high school stadium lights glared down like twin suns, casting golden halos over the bleachers as the crowd roared and the football team charged onto the field. But all eyes weren’t on the players. They were on her.

Dominique Sinclair stood dead center on the fifty-yard line, pom-poms raised high, the whistle of the marching band cueing her every step. Ponytail high, red curls swinging like fire in motion, her uniform crisp and cut just right — short enough to make boys stammer, tailored enough to keep rumors sharp.

"Let's go, Tigers!" she shouted, voice ringing like a battle cry, and the crowd exploded with matching chants.

Dominique led the cheer squad like a general. Sharp claps, high kicks, flawless turns. There wasn’t a single misstep — never was when she was in charge. No one dared drop a beat or break form with her watching. Not unless they wanted to cry in the locker room later.

She could feel the eyes on her: students, teachers, boys who couldn’t breathe right when she looked their way, girls who copied her lip gloss shade and still couldn't get close to her shine.

From the sideline, Steve Harrington watched with a half-melted Coke in one hand and a bite-marked straw in the other. “She’s like… a human magazine cover,” he muttered to no one in particular.

“More like a walking knife,” Robin said from beside him, arms folded. “Pretty, shiny, and will cut the hell outta you if you touch the wrong part.”

Dominique caught them staring. She winked — slow and knowing — and returned to the front of the formation, hip cocked, head held high.

Steve choked on his straw. Robin rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.”

Up in the bleachers, Nancy Wheeler watched with quiet intensity. Her notebook sat forgotten on her lap. She wasn’t jealous — not exactly. Dominique was everything Nancy wasn’t. Loud. Flawless. Intimidating. But it wasn’t just her looks or her crowd.

It was the way people followed her — without question. Listened. The way the world seemed to bend around her. Nancy didn’t want to be her… but sometimes, she wanted to know what it felt like.

Jonathan Byers, camera around his neck, stood on the track just beyond the cheer line. He raised his lens to her and clicked. Dominique turned her head at the sound — eyes narrowing, lips curling upward just so.

“You better be catching my good side, Byers,” she said with a smirk.

Jonathan lowered the camera and shrugged. “You don’t have a bad one.”

“Damn right I don’t,” she shot back, and spun away in perfect time with the beat.

Later That Night – The Sinclair House

The game was over, the team lost, and Dominique didn’t care. She stormed through the front door of the Sinclair house like she owned the place — which, in some ways, she did.

Her heels clicked across the hardwood as she dropped her duffel by the stairs and peeled off her varsity jacket, already snapping her gum. The scent of hairspray and perfume lingered behind her like smoke.

Lucas was on the couch, pretending to do homework, but actually flipping through one of his D&D manuals. He glanced up — just once — and rolled his eyes.

Dominique caught it.

“Something you wanna say, punk?” she asked, not even slowing her pace.

Lucas groaned. “Nothing. Just wondering if the house smells like a Sephora because you bathed in it.”

She whipped her head toward him like a cobra, one manicured nail pointing at his chest.

“You better watch your damn mouth, Lucas,” she warned. “And if you even think about going in my room again, I will knock your skinny ass into next week.”

Lucas blinked. “I didn’t go in your room!”

“Liar. My Strawberry Shortcake lip balm was moved and you touched my Prince tape.” She narrowed her eyes. “Touch it again and I swear I’ll end your little Dungeon Dragons club before y’all hit level two.”

“It’s Dungeons & Dragons!” Lucas shouted, voice cracking.

“Don’t nobody care!” she snapped back.

From the hallway, a small voice chimed sweetly, “Dominique’s home!”

Erica came running down the stairs in her pajamas, pink rollers bouncing, clutching a Barbie under one arm.

Dominique’s whole face softened.

“There she is,” she cooed, scooping Erica up into her arms with ease and twirling her in a tight circle. “My real favorite sibling.”

Erica giggled. “Did you win?”

“No, baby, but I still looked good. That’s the real prize.”

Lucas groaned loudly from the couch. “Why does she get the good version of you?”

“Because she minds her business and doesn’t touch my stuff,” Dominique sing-songed as she carried Erica into her bedroom — the one Lucas wasn’t allowed to breathe near.

Inside, Dominique dropped onto her pink comforter with Erica in her lap and pulled out a tiny bottle of blue nail polish from her nightstand.

“Wanna look just like me?” she asked.

Erica nodded with big eyes. “Obviously.”

As Dominique began carefully painting her little sister’s tiny nails, she whispered stories about who was making out behind the bleachers, who cried after tryouts, and what sophomore tried to copy her cheer routine and fell flat on her face.

Erica ate up every word like candy, clutching her Barbie close.

Outside the cracked door, Lucas muttered, “She’s the devil.”

Dominique raised her voice just enough for him to hear. “I heard that, and the devil’s gonna eat your last Pop-Tart if you don’t shut up!”

Back in her room, Erica leaned into her older sister and smiled.

“You’re like… famous,” she whispered.

Dominique kissed the top of her head. “No, baby. I’m legendary.”

End Prologue

Chapter One

“Dom-Dom, Baby Girl”

Flashback – Hawkins High, Spring 1985

Dominique Sinclair walked down the hall like it was a runway and the school bell was her personal soundtrack. Her long legs were bare beneath a pair of cutoff jean shorts so short they’d make a nun faint. The fringe danced with every step. Her black lace tank top clung to her chest in defiance of Hawkins High’s modesty rules, barely concealed by her cheer captain’s varsity jacket, worn open on purpose.

Pink bubble gum popped against her glossy lips. Her hair, curled to 80s perfection, bounced with a rhythm that dared anyone to call her out.

No one did.

They never did.

A freshman opened his locker too quickly and smacked himself in the face trying not to stare. A sophomore girl tugged her own jacket tighter, clutching her books as she stepped aside. Dominique didn’t ask people to move. They just did.

“Dominique Sinclair,” Principal Harrison called from down the hall, trying to keep the edge of frustration out of his voice.

She stopped, spun slowly on one white Reebok, and smiled like a threat dipped in honey. “Yes, Principal?”

“Dress code.”

She tilted her head, eyes innocent. “I’m wearing a jacket. Says ‘school spirit’ right on the back.” She turned slightly, flashing the gold-stitched “Captain” like a badge of war.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. No point. He knew her parents. Her perfect GPA. The nurse track. The letters of recommendation. He also knew that if he called her home over shorts, her mom would show up in curlers and tear the office apart.

Dominique popped her gum again, winked, and walked away.

After School – The Sinclair House

Dominique slammed the front door with her hip, flipping through her Walkman mixtapes like she was selecting a weapon. Her pom-poms hit the floor, jacket tossed on the arm of the couch. The smile from earlier? Gone. She kicked off her sneakers and shouted toward the stairs.

“Lucas! You little punk, did you touch my nail polish again?”

“I didn’t touch nothing!” came the yell from upstairs, defensive and guilty.

She stormed up after him two steps at a time.

“You lyin’ little cockroach, I know it was you!” she barked, shoving open his bedroom door.

Lucas scrambled to hide under a blanket like it was going to save him. “It was Erica! She—she’s the one who moved your stuff!”

Dominique didn’t even blink. “Erica don’t touch my Dior polish. She knows better. You, however, look like the type who’d try to paint a goblin’s toenails just to be funny.”

Lucas sat up, red-faced. “Why would I do that?!”

“Because you’re weird, Lucas!” she shouted. “And if you so much as breathe near my room again, I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’ve been sneaking around with that Max girl behind the school.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. Try me.”

Lucas growled, grabbed her by the shoulder to shove her back, but she shoved harder, sending him stumbling.

“Get outta my face, dumbass!”

She spun toward her own bedroom, but the door was locked. Her jaw dropped.

“LUCAS! YOU LOCKED ME OUT OF MY ROOM?!”

“Payback!”

“You bastard child! I live in that room!”

“You don’t pay rent!”

She pounded on the door with both fists, her voice rising in pitch and fury. “You better open this damn door before I drag your little funky self into next week!”

Then—

Click.

The sound of the front door opening.

Dominique froze mid-tirade.

Their mother’s voice rang out sweetly, “Dom-Dom, baby girl, we’re home!”

Instant switch.

Dominique turned from a devil in hoops to a glowing angel in .3 seconds. She smoothed her curls, pasted on a warm smile, and bounded down the stairs like a precious, God-fearing daughter.

“Hi Mama!” she sang, throwing her arms around her mother with practiced ease. “How was work? Did Daddy’s shift run late again?”

Her mom beamed. “Oh, baby, you’re always so sweet. You clean the kitchen?”

“Already done.”

Lucas peeked from the landing upstairs, jaw on the floor. Dominique caught his eye and flipped him off behind their mom’s back with a saccharine smile.

Later That Evening

Dominique’s door was finally unlocked — because she’d body-checked Lucas into surrender — and she was laying across her bed in a pair of satin pajama shorts and a cropped tee that read ‘Too Smart to Care’.

Erica was curled up beside her, little feet wiggling while Dominique painted her toenails a glittery pink.

“Tell me who cried at lunch again,” Erica demanded, eyes sparkling.

Dominique grinned. “Darla Stephens. Tripped over her own feet in the cafeteria and dropped a whole tray of spaghetti on herself. Slipped on the sauce. We were all so kind, of course.”

“Of course,” Erica mimicked like a good little minion.

They both cackled.

“You’re gonna be captain one day,” Dominique said as she blew gently on Erica’s toes. “But you gotta learn the game. Be nice to people when it counts and make ‘em fear you the rest of the time.”

“I already do,” Erica said matter-of-factly.

Dominique gave her a proud squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Upstairs, Lucas sat in the dark.

Scowling. Muttering.

“Everyone’s scared of her but me. I ain’t scared. She’s not special.”

But even he didn’t believe it.

Chapter Two

"Dragons and Doritos" Fall 1984 – Sinclair Household, Hawkins, Indiana

The Sinclair living room looked like a war zone.

There were half-eaten slices of pepperoni pizza congealing on paper plates. A mismatched pile of dice rolled across the coffee table. Empty soda cans stacked like a junkyard monument. And in the center of it all, four kids hunched over a Dungeons & Dragons board, arguing about spell slots and attack rolls like their lives depended on it.

Lucas sat cross-legged on the carpet, mid-rant. “No, Mike, you can’t just cast Fireball like it’s nothing! You’re gonna hit all of us—again!”

“I said I’ll roll for aim!” Mike Wheeler snapped, pushing up the sleeves of his striped sweater with all the fury a 13-year-old dungeon master could muster.

Dustin was scribbling calculations on a sheet of paper, tongue between his teeth. “Guys, let’s just strategize, okay? We can take the ogre if we coordinate…”

Max Mayfield rolled her eyes. “Or we could stop debating and fight.”

The front door opened mid-chaos, and suddenly the temperature in the room changed.

Dominique Sinclair stepped in, gym bag slung over one shoulder, her white cheer shoes untied, and her curls frizzed slightly from sweat and weather. Her practice uniform clung to her in all the right places: tiny red shorts, cropped “Hawkins High” tee, and long white socks pushed down to her ankles. Her lips smacked on cherry gum as she assessed the scene.

“What the hell…” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the nerd circle before zeroing in on one crucial thing.

The Doritos.

She didn’t ask. She snatched the half-full bag off the table right out of Lucas’s reach.

“Hey!” Lucas protested, reaching for them.

“Shut up, punk,” she snapped, casually popping a chip into her mouth. “You and your little orc gang ain’t payin’ rent. These are mine now.”

She crunched loudly, then tilted her head at the group. Her eyes swept across them like a queen surveying her court — unimpressed but amused.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled. “How cute. Look at the little nerds playin’ ‘Dragons and Dudes.’”

“It’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Mike corrected, not looking up.

Dominique’s gaze shifted — slow and sharp — right to him.

She arched a brow. “You got a problem, Forehead?”

Mike immediately went silent.

Max smirked behind her hand.

Dominique’s eyes landed on her next. The redhead. She didn’t know her well yet, but she knew enough. Dominique crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“Little Red.” The way she said it wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t mean, either. Just… warning. “Try anything dumb and I’ll punt you back to Cali, capisce?”

Max blinked. “...’Kay.”

Lucas flushed crimson. “Can you not? Like, please? You don’t even know her!”

Dominique ignored him completely.

Instead, she reached down and messed up his fro, rough and quick like a lioness bullying her cub. “Aww, you mad? You still mad your lil soft spot got exposed?”

Lucas batted her hand away. “Dominique!”

But she was already moving on.

Her tone shifted like a record scratch when she turned to Dustin. She dropped down into a low crouch beside him, voice going syrupy.

“Aww, my little Dust Bunny,” she cooed, reaching out with one long acrylic to stroke his curly head. Dustin leaned into it without hesitation.

“Hi, Dominique,” he grinned, cheeks going pink.

“You keep being sweet and smart, not like this troll,” she said, jerking a thumb toward Lucas. “Here—go buy yourself some Skittles or a comic book or something.” She reached into her gym bag, pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill, and stuffed it into his hand like she was handing off a bribe.

Dustin gasped. “Thanks!”

Lucas looked like he was about to combust. “You’re bribing my friends now?!”

“Don’t be mad ‘cause I’m the favorite,” Dominique said, straightening up.

And just like that, she headed for the stairs — pausing halfway up to glance back and, without breaking stride, flipped Lucas off with one freshly polished nail.

Erica poked her head out from her room just in time to see the chaos unfold.

“She’s the devil,” Lucas muttered.

“No,” Erica said with a smug grin. “She’s iconic.”

Chapter Three

“Out Past Eight” Flashback – Summer 1985

Dominique adjusted her name badge in the rearview mirror, smoothing her hair as she parked her brand-new Lexus in the Sinclair driveway. The early summer heat shimmered off the hood, casting sunbeams against the concrete like stage lights.

The badge clipped to her pale pink scrubs read: Dominique Sinclair – Hawkins Memorial Volunteer Intern

Even after a double shift, she looked like a walking Teen Vogue cover: fresh lip gloss, lashes still curled, hoops still shining. The hospital might’ve drained her physically, but her confidence? Untouchable.

Her daddy had surprised her with the car the week after graduation — a pearl-white Lexus, brand-new off the lot, leather seats and all. Because Dominique didn’t just graduate. She dominated. Salutatorian. CNA certified. Letterman jacket with more pins than a Christmas tree. Hawkins High royalty, straight to the bone.

The click of her car door opening snapped the quiet.

As she slung her purse over one shoulder, Dominique paused. Something caught her eye down the street.

A flash of wheels. Faded sneakers pedaling fast. Orange hair flaring like fire behind a striped hoodie.

Max.

Then came the others — the rest of Lucas’s odd little crew: Mike, El, Dustin… and Lucas himself, pedaling hard, trying to act like he didn’t see her.

They tried to fly past the driveway unnoticed.

Tried.

Dominique stepped square in their path, arms folded, face unreadable as she sucked on a cherry lollipop and popped it from her lips with a crisp click.

The gang hit their brakes like they were skidding into enemy territory.

“Evenin’,” she said, looking dead at Lucas.

The others hovered awkwardly behind him, unsure if they should speak or salute.

“I don’t know what you invertebrates are doing,” Dominique began, slow and sharp. “But I do know one thing.”

Lucas swallowed hard. “Dominique—”

“If I catch your little black behind out past 8PM,” she said, pointing her lollipop at his nose like a loaded weapon, “when you’re supposed to be in this house—”

She turned slightly, now addressing the group like a disappointed older sister who also might punch someone.

“—while I’m bustin’ my ass babysitting you and Erica, makin’ sure this whole house don’t burn down…”

She stepped forward once, and Lucas instinctively backed up a few inches on his bike.

“I will personally ensure puberty never hits you.”

Mike made a small choking sound. Max clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. El blinked, confused. Dustin just whispered, “Damn.”

Lucas groaned. “We weren’t even doing anything!”

“‘Not doing anything’ is always what kids say right before they set a mall on fire or get possessed by a damn Ouija board,” Dominique snapped. “Get inside. Now.”

“I’m thirteen!”

“And I’m not above dragging you by your ears like you’re three.”

Lucas looked like he wanted to argue more, but one glance at Dominique’s face told him this was not the day.

He groaned again and rolled past her toward the house, muttering under his breath. The rest of the gang followed, scattering like ants, throwing her nervous glances as they passed.

Dominique didn’t move until the last of them had cleared the sidewalk.

She turned back to her Lexus, twirling her keys on one manicured finger. She squinted down the street, thoughtful.

Something wasn’t right.

Lucas had looked… stressed. The rest of them, too. And not just in the usual “middle school’s hard” way. It was the way Max had kept glancing over her shoulder. The way El’s eyes lingered on the tree line. The fact that Dustin, usually a little sunshine dork, had looked like he was carrying a secret too heavy for his back.

Dominique tucked it away for later.

She always paid attention — even when no one thought she was watching.

And for the first time, she wondered what the hell her baby brother had gotten himself into.

Chapter Four

“Cults and Spikes” Mid–Summer 1985 – Hawkins, Indiana

Dominique’s shoes slapped against the pavement as she turned up her driveway, the sun low and hazy behind her. She’d pulled a full volunteer shift, survived a code blue scare, and still found time to swing by the gas station to grab her baby sister some rainbow gum and a new pink nail polish.

Her keys jangled in one hand. Her purse in the other. Her lip gloss was still poppin’, and her scrubs were only a little wrinkled.

She expected peace.

What she got was nonsense.

There they were.

In her front yard.

Like a scene from a knock-off Spielberg flick.

Lucas. Mike. Dustin. Max. El.

And then: Steve Harrington, looking sweaty and suspicious. Jonathan Byers, clutching a camera like it was a weapon. Nancy Wheeler, tense as a matchstick. And they were all huddled around the trunk of a beat-up station wagon.

Dominique froze.

There was a duffel bag being zipped shut.

A wooden bat slid out slightly — spikes hammered into the end.

Her eyes narrowed.

She walked up slowly, like a storm rolling in on heels and heat.

The gang turned too late.

Dominique dropped her bag on the hood of her Lexus.

“Now I know my eyes are playing tricks on me,” she said, folding her arms under her chest. “Harrington? Byers?? Wheeler?!”

Nancy jumped like she’d been slapped.

Lucas immediately turned to dust.

“The fuck are y’all doing with my little brother and these rug rats?!”

Steve opened his mouth to explain.

She cut him off.

“And why the hell y’all got a bag full of spikes?!”

The silence that followed was so thick, you could scoop it with a spoon.

“Is this…” she pointed back and forth between the adults and the teens. “Is this some cult shit? Because I swear to God, if you’ve dragged my brother into some Satanic bat-swingin’ freak ritual, I will call my parents. Then I’ll call all your damn parents—and Jesus himself if I have to!”

Lucas shrank behind Max. Dustin took one slow step behind the car.

El just blinked.

Steve cleared his throat, holding up both hands like he was negotiating a hostage situation.

“It’s… it’s not a cult.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… a group project.”

Dominique stared at him.

Jonathan stared at the gravel.

Nancy stepped in, voice trying to soothe. “It’s nothing dangerous, really. Just helping Lucas and the others out with… school stuff.”

School stuff.

Dominique looked down at the bat again. Then back up at them.

Her arms slowly dropped to her sides.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Yeah. That tracks. Because all high school science labs need fucking medieval weapons.”

“Dominique—” Lucas started.

“Don’t Dominique me, you little creep!” she snapped. “You’re thirteen. Why the hell are you out here with a damn biker gang full of half-grown hormones and homemade weaponry? What’s next? Summoning Beelzebub in the garage?”

Lucas flushed.

Dustin tried. “We’re, uh… playing a live-action roleplay game?”

“Oh, hell no,” Dominique muttered.

“I swear it’s harmless!” Mike jumped in.

Dominique narrowed her eyes. “Harmless. Mmhmm. So if I open that bag, I’m not gonna find any garlic, matches, or exorcism candles?”

Everyone stared.

She started forward.

Steve stepped directly in her path, both arms out like she was a literal fireball.

“Dominique. Please. We got this under control.”

“You got nothing under control, Hair King,” she shot back, sidestepping him. “You failed biology and got beat up by a twelve-year-old last year.”

“Okay first of all,” Steve said, pointing, “that kid was jacked.”

Nancy rubbed her temples. “Dominique. Please. Trust us.”

Dominique froze.

Her lips pressed together, and her eyes went to Lucas — still quiet, still guilty.

The way he looked at her said Please don’t dig.

She didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

But her heart was in her throat now.

She stared one more time at the group. The bat. The tension.

Then she grabbed her purse, glared at every single one of them, and turned on her heel.

“Y’all better be home before the street lights come on,” she called over her shoulder. “And Lucas, if I even smell demon blood in this house, I will whoop your ass into next Tuesday.”

The front door slammed behind her.

They all stood in stunned silence for a beat.

Max muttered, “Honestly? She’s scarier than the Mind Flayer.”

Chapter Five

“He Wanna Play” Mid-Summer 1985 – Near the Train Tracks

Dominique caught them from the side mirror.

Two figures, small and shadowed, walking the tracks near Elm Street. One in a striped hoodie. The other in that damn teal jacket she hated.

Lucas.

And Dustin.

“Oh, he wanna play,” she muttered.

She hit the brakes so hard her pink soda spilled into the cupholder.

Dominique threw the car in reverse, nearly burning out her tires, and whipped the Lexus onto the shoulder. The sun was setting behind the trees, gold fire bleeding into dusk.

She stepped out in full scrub attire and hoops, door still half open, eyes narrowing like a hawk who just spotted prey.

From a distance, she watched them.

The boys were deep in conversation, walking along the tracks like some low-budget Stand By Me knockoff. Dustin was animated, waving his hands. Lucas kept glancing over his shoulder — guilty as hell.

Dominique folded her arms.

“You sneaky little punk,” she muttered, stepping behind a parked truck at the edge of the rail yard. “Out here with Dragon Boy after I just told you—”

She checked her watch.

7:54 PM.

“Oh, bet.”

She didn’t storm out yet. No. Dominique filed it away. She was gonna let him cook. Let him really think he got away with it. Then she’d hit him with the verbal death penalty right when he least expected it — probably mid-dinner, in front of both parents, with a side of shame and hot sauce.

She turned back toward her car, lips curled into a tight, furious smile.

That’s when the other car passed her.

A guttural engine. Too loud. Too fast.

Dominique’s smile dropped as she clocked the vehicle.

The Camaro.

Billy Hargrove.

The red lights of his brake glow reflected briefly in her Lexus’ gloss before disappearing down the street, tires screeching slightly as he whipped around the corner.

Dominique’s eyes narrowed again.

“That psycho again?” she muttered.

Billy had been creeping around the neighborhood more than usual lately — and everyone had noticed. Even she noticed. Not just the car. Not just the attitude. Something about him felt… off.

The way he stared too long. The erratic driving. Max avoiding him like he was the plague.

She’d seen the bruises, too — the ones on his face, his ribs — even if no one else asked.

And now he was out here, prowling again?

Nope.

Dominique didn’t like being ignored. Didn’t like being lied to. And especially didn’t like her little brother out after dark while dudes like Billy Hargrove were cruising around like rejected horror movie extras.

She slammed her car door and peeled off like a storm in heels, the Lexus roaring down the street.

Back on the Tracks

Lucas paused mid-sentence.

The distant hum of tires over gravel hit his ears first. Then the gleam of headlights. Then—

“Shit.”

Dustin flinched. “What?! What?! Demodog?! Billy?!”

Lucas turned pale. “No worse.”

He pointed.

Dominique’s Lexus.

Speeding past the crossing.

Gone, but definitely not unseen.

Dustin grimaced. “Oh damn. You’re dead.”

“I know.”

Lucas ran both hands down his face, already imagining the pain.

Dominique didn’t say a word tonight.

Which meant she was saving it.

Which meant he wasn’t sleeping soundly for the rest of the summer.

Chapter Six

“Slush, Slasher, and Braids” Late Summer 1985 – Hawkins Drive-In

The sky was dark, but Dominique was brighter than every flickering reel behind her.

The white crop tank top — not approved for Sinclair dinner table wear — clung like a second skin. Her mini leather skirt shimmered with each shift of her hips. Platform sandals clicked over the gravel, and the gloss on her lips caught every speck of light the movie projector cast.

Her belly button ring sparkled. So did the gold cuff on her ear. Her bicep bore the hidden Roman numerals of Lucas and Erica’s birthdays, wrapped like scripture under skin.

No one from home would recognize her like this.

And that’s how she liked it.

She leaned against the hood of her Lexus, slurping from her half-empty slushie, legs crossed at the ankle. Her girls were posted up beside her — Bri, the tall one with the thick curls, currently making out with a dude in a Letterman jacket. Kiana, her ride-or-die from back in cheer, was half-watching the movie and texting on her pager for no real reason.

The movie on screen was halfway into a scream fest. Blood, boobs, and a final girl hiding in a closet.

Dominique yawned.

“Who even picked this?” she muttered, tugging down the hem of her skirt. It bounced right back up. Rude.

“I think it was Craig,” Kiana said, motioning toward the quarterback in question — currently stuffing his face with popcorn like he’d never been fed.

“I swear,” Dominique muttered. “All that upper body and no brain. Like a tree with CTE.”

Kiana snorted. “You wanna dip?”

“Nah, I’mma get candy.” She slid off the hood, sandals crunching into the gravel. “You want anything?”

“Hot tamales and maybe a new spine. My back’s dead from this rock.”

Dominique rolled her eyes, already strutting toward the concession stand.

The air smelled like engine smoke, popcorn grease, and too much Cool Water cologne. She loved it.

The line wasn’t long, but the boys in it were loud. She waved past some greasy sophomore from band camp who tried to flirt, ignoring his stutter and stepping straight to the counter.

“Let me get a mix — cherry and cola slush, light ice,” she said, “and Mike and Ike’s. Not the bootleg ones.”

The bored teen behind the counter didn’t even look up. “Yeah, yeah…”

She grabbed her change, slipped the candy into her pocket, and turned.

And smacked directly into a wall of chest, heat, and tattoos.

Her slushie tilted forward — a slow red and brown drip across the front of her white tank top.

She gasped. “Yo?!”

The man — tall, bronze-skinned, braided up and blank-faced — caught her elbow with a strong hand.

And didn’t move.

He just blinked.

Dominique blinked back.

It wasn’t just that he was fine — though God, was he. It was the kind of fine that came with a warning label. Hair in neat braids, tattoos crawling up his throat, thick gold chain against an open black button-up. A blunt tucked behind his ear, like punctuation.

And that accent when he spoke. Like molasses on asphalt.

“My bad, mama.”

Dominique stared up at him, unimpressed, one brow cocked like a loaded weapon.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing at her tank uselessly. “You are bad, Braids. You gone fix this?”

He looked down — slow and smooth — at the crimson stain on her shirt. Then back at her.

“Looks better now,” he said, mouth tilted into a half-smile.

Dominique gave a sharp laugh, stepping back just enough to eye him properly.

“Oh, you funny. You got jokes?”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “Only when I bump into trouble.”

She smirked. “You think I’m trouble?”

“Nah,” he said, his voice low and deep as velvet smoke. “I know you are.”

Dominique licked her lips, ignoring the way her stomach flipped. “You got a name, Smooth Talker? Or should I just call you the Laundry Bill?”

“Jimmy,” he said, offering a hand like he wasn’t made of red flags and smirked sin.

She looked at it. Then looked back up.

“Dominique.”

“Dom,” he repeated, like he liked how it sat in his mouth.

She didn’t correct him.

He leaned just slightly closer.

“You want me to replace that slush?” he asked. “Or spill another one?”

She let out a short laugh, despite herself.

“You full of shit,” she said, turning back toward the lot.

“Maybe,” he called after her. “But I look good doin’ it.”

She didn’t stop smiling until she got back to her car.

[raspb3rry-pie]

Turquoise Sorbet Chapter 1!

This is just a little Rebecca X Darren fic I’ve been working on. It has no prompt. It is them being silly and cute. Expect some Thad X Uzi content in there too :3 ENJOY!!!

“Your house tonight?” A note dropped on Rebeccas desk. She smiled and picked up her pencil. “Obviously” She sneakily passed it to her boyfriend, imagining the things they would do on the date they were planning, while her homework sat collecting dust on her desk.

A note passed back onto her desk. “What do you wanna do?” “Oh I don't know, I was thinking we could go to that ice cream place.” She handed her response to him, smiling. She glanced back towards the teacher. He was writing on the whiteboard, explaining some pointless math problem that Rebecca didn’t care to learn. She was bored, but having Darren in the class made math a lot better.

As Darren passed over yet another note, his hand brushed hers and she paused. She had been with him for months now, she wasn’t sure why she was still so… Crush-y about him. She looked over at him and realized he was staring behind her chair. Sam was miming kissy faces at them, while Emily was laughing and mimicking their expressions. “Traitors, all of you!” She hissed, but she was grinning.

Turning back around, she picked up her pencil. She was about to write something else when a voice rang across the classroom.

“Rebecca, I hope whatever you’re writing there is related to math.” She whipped her head up and realized the whole class was staring at her, including the teacher. She flitted her eyes back and forth nervously, feeling the pressure of 15 kids` attention. “Uh, well…” “So it’s not math.” “Uh- No…” The teacher paced over to her desk and snatched up the note. His eyes scanned over it, an incomprehensible look spreading across his face. He placed the note back down gingerly. “Well,“ he said, walking back to his desk. “That definitely wasn’t math related.” Giggles resounded around the room. “Whatever! It wasn’t your business ANYWAY.“ She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. He ignored her, and went back to his math lesson.

Darren passed another note. “I just realized that I have football practice tonight… Sorry babe.” He scribbled a sad face on it which made Rebecca smile. “It’s okay. I-“ The bell rang before she could finish. She erased the last part and handed the note to him. “We can just hang out at practice. I have cheerleading too, remember?” She said, her voice lilting. She was excited.

He smiled, glad. He couldn’t stand not being able to spend time with her. One time, She was sick and had to stay home. He had football practice that day, and he couldn’t concentrate without her. The coach has been very concerned about her attendance since then.

Darren tossed off his shirt, trading it for his school sports shirt and letterman jacket. “Hey bro! How’s you and your girlfriend going?” Thad commented, leaning on the locker next to him. “Doing good, why?” His question fell on deaf ears, as Thad had spaced off. “Hey. Bro. C’mon.” Darren shook him a bit on his shoulder. “Huh? Oh, sorry dude. Just… got lost in my thoughts.” “I can see that. You good?” “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Darren tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “You sure? Seems like you’re stressing over something.” “Yeah actually. You got a girlfriend right? Can you help me out?” Thad looked at Darren, pleading. “Uhh, sure man. What is it?” Darren was really interested now. If Thad, the school-wide known “Chill guy” was stressing out, he knew it must be really important to him.

“So, there’s this girl I like, right? She’s super cool, and smart, and pretty, but I’m kinda worried that she’s not interested. I usually just have girls falling at my feet to date me, which is- I don’t know how to feel about that, but I’ve never actually… had to… actually try? And I know you’re pretty experienced with girls so… yeah. Can you help me?”

This stunned Darren. Thad had never needed help with girls before. If felt kind of surreal. “Uhh, yeah man.” Darren replied, “Do you have her number?” A guilty look spread across Thads face. “…No.” “Dude, seriously? You’ve been gushing about her to me this whole time and you don’t even have her number?” Darren laughed. “Haha.. Yeah I should probably get to that..” Chuckling nervously, Thad pulled a football out from a nearby locker. “We should go, It’s almost time for practice and if we’re late coach is gonna murder us.”

As Darren walked away, Thad pulled out a piece of notebook paper. “Note to self-“ he wrote. “get Uzi’s number.”

Rebecca picked up her Pom-poms, glancing over at the football field. She was in a good mood today. The coaches decided that the cheer team would be working side by side with the football team, and that means she would get to see Darren.

She got into position with the rest of the cheerleaders. She didn’t really talk to the others, save for Lizzy and doll, and Jessica if she really counted. Her sister didn’t really speak with her much. She knew the others names, sure, and chatted once in a while. But that was it.

“Alright Lizzy, you start us off!” The coach shouted, glancing at her clipboard.

“ONE TWO THREE FOUR!” Lizzys yell rang around the field. Their routine was a little basic, but it was showy, and that’s what mattered. As she flung her Pom poms into the air, she glanced at Darren who was just… staring at her. Not paying attention to practice at all.

And then a football slammed into the side of his head.

She reacted with her whole body. Her shoulders tensed and her arms flew to her torso in a violent grimace. In that same instant, she whipped around and started sprinting, panic so thorough it spread through her whole body. She even tripped over her feet running to him, but she never once faltered. “DARREN!” Rebecca white-knuckled her pompoms as she dropped to his side.

“Ohhhh my god, are you okay?! Darren!!!” The rest of the football players gathered around them like it was some sort of show, while the other cheerleaders just stood from afar, watching it go down. Darren clutched his head and half groaned, half laughed. Rebecca released a panicked laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all, more like a mix of a scoff at the ridiculousness of the situation and a shrill exhale of breath, pure worry for her boyfriend.

She looked around at Darrens teammates, and even coach, doing a total of absolutely nothing. In a boost of adrenaline and amger, she gathered herself and picked Darren up. She started to walk off in the direction of the nurses office, or wheverer she could get him help.

But not before scolding the CRAP out of her fellow witnesses. “Are you kidding me?!” She hissed, still holding her boyfriend bridal style. “If Copper-Nine has ever seen a more useless group of people, I’d cut off my own legs before believing it! Darren got hit in the head and the only possible thing you idiots can think to do is stand and stare like this is a damn CIRCUS?! If my hands were free I’d slap the living daylights out of you, but I doubt you’d even process it until next Tuesday with how slow your BRAINS ARE MOVING!!!” She turned on her heel and stomped away. “USELESS!”

Lizzy let out a low, long whistle and turned to Doll. “How crazy was that?” Doll just stared at Rebecca walking away. “Ugh, you are literally no fun.” Lizzy turned to her phone, uploading the video she took onto her social media.

Let me know if you want a part 2, K?! (This is my first time writing a fic so please be kind! (^ 3 ^) )

[the-swedes-knees]

Time in A Bottle (Agent Mobius x Reader)

Summary: Everyone has a guilty pleasure. For Mobius, it's a slice of pie in a very specific slice of time.

Word Count: 1.8k

Located in the middle of Downtown, bordering on the corner of old-time druggies and newly gentrified condos was a moderate sized building with an exorbitant monthly rent. 

It was a theme restaurant, if the theme was 'we opened in 1953 and we'll be damned if we change the decor'- done up in chrome and frosted glass windows that clashed against the surrounding brick and mortar. The neon sign bearing the establishment's name had burnt out years ago, but it wasn't the type of place one would seek out.

Unless you were Mobius, that is.

[09:45:00]

Technically, he shouldn't be here.

His unit was nearly a mile out, or, more accurately, they would be within the hour. Dates like this, where a simple flap of a fat pigeon's wing could ripple into Nexus event after Nexus event had a name. A proper designation in their severity and frequency of necessary resets.

But he just always referred to them as 'a real pickle'.

You glance up at the front door as the brass bell affixed to the frame jingles loudly. The man that enters looks around the place before making eye contact with you and smiles. He points to the empty bar and you nod your head.

Once you finish refilling the other customer's drink, you see that he's made himself comfortable in the middle stool.

"Hey there." You greet from the opposite side of the counter. He offers a sheepish greeting in response as you set a water down in front of him, balancing a plastic straw on the rim of the glass. "Can I start you off with some coffee? Just made a fresh pot."

"That'd be great, thanks."

You place the mug and matching saucer in front of him and pour. For a moment you look up at him, and he's smiling a very genuine smile- something very rare these days.

As soon as it's full to the brim you're reaching under the counter and grabbing a clean glass sugar pourer, placing it right next to his cup.

"How'd you know?"

"Customer service intuition, I guess." He thanks you before unfurling the napkin containing his flatware. Like someone with real proper manners, he drapes the napkin over one of his legs before stirring an ample amount of sugar into his drink.

You can't help but notice just how much he fits in to the whole aesthetic with his well fitted brown suit and slim tie. New York offered a multiplicity of personalities, and you'd become quite numb to anything and everything that would walk through that door.

Yet, someone about this man was intriguing, familiar in a way. Like in the past life he was a PI that you hired to confirm your husband's affair.

Both a confidant, and a stranger.

"Feel free to take your time, but, do you know what you'd like?" You note his closed menu pushed to the side. He raises his eyebrows and nods while mid-sip, and you pull out a notepad and pen from your apron.

"Sure do, could I get two slices?" He points the vintage rotating pie cooler to your left and specifies his selection.

Easy enough. You put two generous slices onto separate plates, and he declines your offer of whipped cream or ice cream on top.

"Good choice, this one's my favorite."

"You don't say." The knowing twinkle in his eye wasn't noticed as you busied yourself with refilling his coffee. He holds his hands up in mock defeat and sighs. "Well, I guess you'll have to join me." The ceramic scraped against the quartz tabletop as he pushed one of the plates across the bar, directly opposite himself.

"I'm on the clock-"

"Don't worry, another customer doesn't come in for-" He pauses to flex his arm, riding his jacket sleeve up just enough to check his wristwatch. "12 minutes and 43 seconds."

[09:52:16]

"Am I supposed to trust you on that?" You raise an eyebrow, and his only response is a slight head tilt and pushing the second slice a nudge closer to you.

It wasn't every day courteous men offered you a break in the form of your favorite desert. Your face screwed up in contemplation as you looked at the only other two patrons in the diner before giving in and grabbing a second set of flatware. "Well, it is slow-"

"For a Friday?" He has another bite before setting down his fork and dabbing at his face with his napkin.

"Is it Friday already?" You sigh, bent over the counter to take a bite of the pie. Delicious as ever. "Hardly feels like it, all the days are melding together."

"I think this one will stand out."

"What is the date, anyway?"

"May 4th." You make a hum of acknowledgement and he gives you a lopsided grin. "2012, incase you forgot the year too."

"I'll mark it in my calendar," You laugh, using your hand to cover your mouth as you continue to chew. "'The Day I Met-'"

"Mobius." He introduces himself, extending his hand over the counter and you shake it. His grip is firm, authoritative. Before you can reply with your own name, he refers to you by it while maintaining perfect eye contact.

You can't explain why, but it feels so right when he says it. Like it was perfectly made to be pronounced in his charming Texan drawl with just the faintest hint of gravel.

While you're fixed in a stunned silence his eyes deliberately dart to the lapel of your uniform. You follow his gaze and laugh at yourself for neglecting that you were indeed wearing a nametag.

"So Mobius... like, from maths?"

"Yeah, like math." He eyes his untouched water and picks up the plastic straw. His fingers move carefully, removing the straw from the perorated paper. You watch with curiosity as the man twists the paper once and pinches the two ends together with his thumb and index finger.

Mobius holds his opposite hand out to you, confident, waiting. With a bemused smile you allow him to guide your hand. His skin is warm, presumably from the way he had cradled his coffee mug, but it's comforting in a way. His rough hand guides you, your finger tracing the geometry of the paper-straw shape.

"A path that twists and turns... but always ends back at the same spot."

"I wasn't very good at math." You admit, and gesture around as if working in a place like this was a testament to that fact. "Why does it matter that it always ends where it began?"

"Well, that all depends on perspective. Maybe it doesn't matter. But to the one who observes it, it makes all the difference." You quirk an eyebrow, silently pressing him to elaborate. "Maybe that point's... where you got your first kiss, the feeling when your favorite football team scores a winning touchdown, a perfect sunset-"

Mobius catches himself trailing off, and looks down at his plate. He puts another bite onto his fork and cheers it to you.

"Or having pie in good company."

You look around the mostly empty diner before bracing your arms against the counter, leaning in as if you were to whisper some great secret.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit odd?"

[09:59:06]

"No-" His eyes crinkle as he laughs. "No, that's a new one. But you find it charming." He winked, actually winked, and leaned back in his stool, smirking into his coffee.

Your fork was halfway to your mouth as your just stared at him, frozen. You feel your mouth open and close a few times as you try to think of a somewhat dignified response.

"How would you know that?"

"I just know things." He shrugged.

"Like what?" You challenged.

"How about, Paul- over there." You crane your head to follow his line of eye, your coworker currently bussing a table that had just left. "Worked in this place five years, loves Coke- from the glass bottle, nothing else. Has a girl on the Upper East Side and runs a decent sized internet radio station out of his apartment."

"You're one of his listeners." You narrowed your eyes at him, a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Oh, no. Hyperpop... not my style."

"Alright, BBC Sherlock-" You countered. You give a subtle head tilt to a woman sitting in a far off booth, papers spread out on the table around her pancake combo. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn't a regular. "How about her?"

"Mrs. Braverman. Youngest of eight siblings, English teacher at the charter school up the avenue. Actually prefers imitation maple syrup to the real thing."

You know very well Mobius could be talking out of his ass. But he's confident, nonchalantly so- like this was a game to him and he was obviously winning.

"What about me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Your anticipation is palpable as he swallows his final bite, taking the time to wipe his face of crumbs before smiling softly at you.

"You are... a poem of a person. Charming, capable, when you walk into a room people notice- even if you convince yourself that they don't." His gaze is steady, patient, and he's looking at you as if you're the only person in the universe. "You have big dreams, far beyond all... this... and you're gonna make it."

[10:04:59]

The sound of the door chime breaks you out of whatever hypnotic state you had found yourself in. Sucking in a breath and blinking away the very beginnings of tears in your eyes you tell the new customer to sit wherever they like.

Mobius took this chance to check his handheld, sighing at the time and the ever-growing slope of the branch variation.

The reset charge would be set soon, with or without him there.

"Look at that. Duty calls." He stands up and pulls a billfold from his jacket pocket, not even counting as he puts the cash down on the counter.

Mobius turns to leave, but hesitates. He turns back around to face you and places his hands on his hips. Allowing himself to play into the fleeting illusion just a tad longer.

"One more thing I know about you-" Mobius rubbed his chin in careful consideration. "You have a date tonight."

"Ah-" You wag your finger at him and shake your head side to side, "got one wrong."

"Did I? Ah- well... How about we change that?"

You pause. The plates you had been holding found their way back to the counter as you set them down slowly. Once again in a very short time span, he had left you speechless.

"That... was possibly the lamest pickup line I've ever heard." Though you mean it to be snarky, it sounds more like praise coming from your smiling lips. "I get off at 6:30."

"Alright." He looks perfectly pleased with himself as he lightly knocks on the counter with his fist. "It's a date."

Walking out the door, Mobius gave one last look at the diner before reporting to the event site.

He knew would see you again, always at 9:45.

[samanthadalton]

I got you (collaboration fic) part 1??

Pairings: Becca x Emily

A huge huge huge shoutout to the amazing and talented @drmmyrs for collaborating on this fic with me, you are an incredible writer and being able to write with you is such a pleasure.

This fic was originally written for @the-freshman-appreciation-week becca’s day but we feel like we may write more parts to the fic when we get the time to collab.

The fic focuses on the relationship between Becca and Emily and their development, this was so much fun to write, again @drmmyrs thank you for writing with me :))))

wordcount: 1.6k

tag list: @drmmyrs @cloud9in @fundamentalromantic @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti (this is my first time writing for becca so i don’t really have a tag list for her but if you wanna be added just let me know)

“Emily!” Becca pushes past the other partygoers, stomping towards the brunette who’s standing with her group of friends as her shrill voice rings throughout the room over the blaring music. The word ‘Emily’ coming out of Becca’s mouth feels foreign to her as she spits it out, almost as if she has a distaste for the name. Emily jumps slightly at the beckon of her name, her guard up as the sound of her name coming out of the blonde’s mouth instead of an insult, is something new to her ears.

“Uh yeah?” The brunette nervously assesses the blonde’s demeanour, taking in her slightly shrivelled hair and slanted stance, indicating she may have had her fair share of drinks tonight.

“What the hell are you doing with Chris?” Becca angrily gestures towards the football player, her eyebrows scrunched up while her voice only becomes more resounding as she takes a step closer to the girl.

Emily narrows her eyes at Becca, her voice civil and calming, a stark contrast to Becca’s. “He’s not your pet, Chris is a grown man and can hang out with whoever he wants.”

Becca huffs angrily, “Oh please,” is all she can muster, the buzz of the alcohol messing with her ability to come up with a catty insult.

Emily gives Becca a pitying look before turning back to her friends, nonchalantly shrugging at them, completely ignoring the blonde.

The music continues, the pulsating beat echoing throughout the house as the party rages on. Becca’s thoughts go into overdrive, the flurry of logic blending into the raucous music. She grits her teeth, bursting with fury, her vision blurring white as she saunters up to the girl, and without thinking, she grabs Emily by her shoulder.

Emily sharply turns around, irritation etches on her features as she shrugs Becca’s hand off violently, her calm demeanour gone in a split second. “What the hell’s your problem?” she hisses, the volume of her voice starting to match Becca’s.

The partygoers start to turn their attention towards the commotion, a small group forming around the girls at the possibility that a physical altercation may ensue.

“No one turns their back on me while I’m still talking,” Becca threatens, pushing the words through her teeth.

“Or what?” Emily retorts, not backing down.

A larger crowd starts gathering around them, some already whipping their cameras out, catching the blonde and brunette in a fiery stare-off with both not even daring to blink.

“What’s going on here?” A voice bellows from the crowd, silencing the murmurs as a brawny-looking man marches towards the girls, an annoyed expression on his face.

Emily is the first to tear away her gaze to address the man who happens to be a frat boy. “You should ask her what her problem is.” Emily gives Becca the side-eye, to which Becca responds by rolling her eyes. “I was just minding my business when–”

“Oh please. If you weren’t going around stealing other people’s boyfriends–”

“How many times do I have to say–”

“Hey I don’t have a girlfriend,” Chris chimes in but his voice is drowned out by the two girls as they continue to bicker.

“Girls, girls.” The man holds up his hand as if to silence them both. “I don’t care who started it. We have a no fighting policy at this party so I’m going to have to ask you both to leave.”

“But I didn’t even-” Emily stops herself when she sees from the frat boy’s face that it isn’t a matter of negotiation. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.” Kaitlyn and Zack begin following the girl but Emily holds her hand up stopping them, “no you guys stay.”

“You sure?” Kaitlyn frowns slightly.

“Yeah, I need some air and you guys might as well have fun, you earned it.” Emily musters a small smile, “I’ll be fine I swear, I’m more worried about her,” Emily nods towards the blonde who’s furiously waving her finger in the frat boy’s face, hurling every stereotypical insult about frats under the sun as she’s being carried out by two other frat boys.

“Now that’s a sight,” Zach sighs as he gives Emily a small hug before joining the group.

Emily sighs as she trails behind Becca’s screaming antics, once they get to the entrance of the house, the boys put Becca down before joining the party again.

“This is why I hate frat parties, I’ve seen pigs with more brain cells!”

Emily winces as Becca continues screaming until she feels her head can’t take it anymore. “Can you please shut up, they’re not letting you back in.”

Becca exasperatingly huffs, her eyes shooting daggers at the brunette, “well if it wasn’t for you Emily,” even saying her name in a taunting manner made Becca feel uneasy, there was something about it, that made it both so difficult but easy to say, “I would still be in there partying with my friends.”

“Me?” Emily points at herself, eyebrows raised, “you started screaming my name, coming at me, and for what? Chris? He’s not interested in you.”

“Like he even wants you,” Becca snaps back, the weight of the insult carrying nothing.

“Well that’s not what he told me last week so...” Becca clamps her lips shut, unusually silent, as she glances away from the brunette, her expression contemplative. Emily takes it as an indication that she’s won this battle, letting the weight of her admission hang in the air as she walks away from the blonde. But every step feels heavier as her conscience about leaving the drunk blonde behind preys at the back of her mind. Emily sighs, before turning back, cautiously approaching the blonde who remains in the same state she left her in moments ago. “Do you have a way to get home?”

“I didn’t bring my car.”

“Probably the only smart thing you’ve done today,” Emily mutters under her breath.

As Becca opens her mouth to spit out a comeback, Emily shakes her head sluggishly, evidently tired from today’s events. “I’m not looking to start another fight, Becca. Right now I just wanna go home in one piece. You’re in no state to be alone either so you’re stuck with me.”

Becca facetiously rolls her eyes, her body slumping as she follows the brunette, trudging slowly behind her. Becca and Emily walk home in silence, carefully maintaining a distance, the only sounds being heard are the clicks of their shoes and the occasional rumble of engines as they continue their journey in silence. Suddenly, a gust of wind sweeps over the streets, the once soothing breeze suddenly becoming a rush of air, as Becca wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her arms in an up and down motion, her breath forming clouds of condensations in the crisp, cold air.

“Are you cold?” Emily inquires, raising an eyebrow at the blonde.

“No, I’m just rubbing my arms just to see how much friction I can create,” Becca snaps back.

“Jeez, it was just a question,” Emily rolls her eyes but feels a sense of pity in her stomach as she realises Becca’s cheeks have reddened in the last few minutes. She reluctantly sighs, shrugging off her jacket before placing it on the girl’s shoulders. “Here, and don’t make any comments about how you don’t want it, you look like a tomato.”

Becca huffs angrily but she pulls the jacket closer to her, a small part of her grateful for Emily’s act of kindness, but she doesn’t show it. As she continues on walking, she struggles to ignore Emily’s lavender scent on the jacket, subconsciously pulling it closer to her nose so she can get a better smell of it, feeling an indescribable sense of security as she does. She’s so engrossed in the scent of the jacket, that she doesn’t realise she’s standing outside of Emily’s suite.

“You think you can manage it from here?” Emily inquires, the extensiveness of tonight’s events taking a toll on her demeanour.

But before Emily can step inside, a deep rumble from Becca’s stomach catches them both by surprise.

Emily sighs. “Come inside. I’ll fix you up with something before you go.”

“I’m not hungry,” Becca says stubbornly but is immediately countered by another rumble.

“Whatever,” Emily rolls her eyes, “I’ll be making some food so if you happen to want any, the door’s open,” Emily steps into the suite, keeping the door slightly ajar, knowing the blonde would take her up on her offer. Becca reluctantly steps into the dorm, slithering into one of the chairs as she cups her face in her hands, massaging her temples.

“Uhh I can make us a soup, you okay with that?”

“Yes, please,” Becca replies, her voice slightly muffled by her hands covering her mouth.

Emily snorts, her eyes glistening with amusement as she looks over at the blonde.

“What the hell is so funny?” Becca looks up from the table, catching the glint in Emily’s eyes.

“Just didn’t think you had the ability to say please.”

Becca groans, “whatever, my head hurts.” Emily playfully rolls her eyes, turning her attention to the box of soup in her hands.

As Emily prepares their food, Becca’s eyes sweep over the quaint room, a small smile playing on her lips as she notices all the motivational posters that adorn the walls, fairly certain that they are Emily’s.

Emily lazily mixes the soup, her eyes suddenly on the blonde’s as she observes the small smile on her face while she looks around the room. Emily feels a hint of content that her cheesy posters bring a smile to Becca’s face, a smile gracing her own mouth as she turns her attention back to the soup. After a few more moments, she uses a ladle to pour the soup into two bowls, grabbing two clean spoons and walking over to the table, sitting on one of the chairs. She slides over a bowl towards Becca, holding out a spoon for her, which Becca gratefully accepts, and the two girls sit in content silence, enjoying the wave of tranquility as they enjoy their food.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 (𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

Part Two / Part Three/ Part Four

Pairing: Bad boy! Park Seonghwa (Ateez)/ Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, School AU.

Summary: Y/N never cared about a lot, her only goal was to get through college as quickly as possible. One day, she makes eye contact with the notorious bad boy class and unintentionally glares at him. Did she just screw up her peaceful school life?

Requested by a very close friend who better appreciate this or else :) ♡

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

12:53

Only 2 minutes had passed since Y/N had looked at the clock, but it felt like an eternity. She always did hate computer science. Not because she felt it was difficult or kept her up at all hours of the night trying to finish the assigned tasks, that was more of a biochemistry thing. It was because although her professor was really excellent at teaching them and helping them maneuver all the software, he had an awful tendency to leave early, sometimes up to half an hour, and just let them do as they pleased. While some decided to watch stupid cat videos, browse through their social media, others went as far as to play video games or even go onto some questionable websites that more than once made her cringe with disgust.

Y/N often just sat there, either finishing up assignments for her other classes or bored to death, waiting for it to be 1pm so she could go off campus and get something to eat. Having forgotten to eat breakfast, even a simple untoasted bagel cause she accidentally overslept through her alarm, she could really use some fuel in her system. She was tired, hungry and therefore moody, which was never a good combination.

12:56

She groaned softly and let her head fall back on the head of the chair. She closed her eyes, not caring about dozing off right then and there in front of the whole class. What would they care? They're too immersed in their narcissistic fake Instagram lives or their sadomasochistic porn desires to pay attention to her. In fact, no one ever really payed attention to her and she didn't care. She liked it that way. Invisible, unseen. It meant no one bothered her and no distractions from her only goal in life. No one seemed to notice or even look at her.

That's what she believed. But for some odd reason she couldn't shake off a weird feeling of someone watching her. She slowly opened her eyes and was indeed met with a pair of dark, glassy eyes staring right at her. Dark eyes sitting on top of a perfectly straight nose, small luscious pink lips accompanying a sharp jawline only complimenting the rest of his heavenly features.

Park Seonghwa.

If someone were to ask Y/N her honest opinion of him, she'd probably respond:

"I don't know. Everyone is afraid of him and everyone tells horror stories though."

Yes, he had a reputation for being the school's bad boy. She's personally never actually seen him be violent towards anyone, but she had heard about fights that often happened at the football field, always ending in his apparent victory. She never payed mind to such stories, frankly she didn't even care. She had even forgotten that he was in the same class as her, up until this very moment.

She somehow expected him to look away, but he didn't. He kept his gaze locked on hers. In any other circumstance, she would have looked away, but something about his stare kept her from looking away. The corners of his lips were slightly curled upward, almost as if they were forming a soft smile. That could just be his lip shape though, after all, she's never actually looked at him closely. His eyes as well had a particular glow to them, and if she wasn't in such a bad mood maybe....just maybe, she would have felt her cheeks heat up and turn a baby pink shade. But she simply looked away after a minute of staring into his eyes. Wait...was it a minute?

12:58

Yep. Pretty much around that time. 2 minutes left until her torture ended. Maybe if she looked at it hard enough, maybe time would go faster. Foolish thought but it is often said that the mind works wonders. Although in this case it seemed to be doing the opposite of what she wanted. And she still felt the same pair of eyes staring at her. So turning back she found she was correct.

Only this time instead of curled lips and glowy eyes, she was met with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw. Now she felt a shiver ran down her spine as Seonghwa glared at her, almost as if he was threatening her. And it truly was menacing.

The light twinkling of a bell signaled that it was 1pm and time to leave. Y/N grabbed her books that were out in front of her desktop and quickly shoved them in her book bag as if it was an Olympic sport. She nearly tripped as she scurried out of the classroom, ignoring the throbbing pain on her shin which had collided with the leg of the chair. All she knew is that she didn't want to stay long enough to figure out if all the stories she heard about Park Seonghwa were true or not. So she practically ran out of the campus, completely forgetting about her hunger or tiredness. She was fully awake now and her stomach felt sick that she couldn't possibly even think about taking a bite out of anything.

Meanwhile the man she left behind at the classroom stood there in shock, his mouth letting out a soft scoff at her behavior. He shook his head as he picked up his jacket that was hanging on his chair and a notebook that had fallen out a few feet away from the row of computers in front of him. His mind was already working, planning on how to deal with this.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I heard he was pissed.

Seriously?

Didn't you hear the way he slammed the door?

She must have done something to piss him off.

I don't know, all I know is that Seonghwa was fuming while muttering something about giving it to her.

Whoever she is, she sounds as good as dead.

That's what Y/N overheard some girls gossiping about while she was in the bathroom. Now half of the school was hell bent on finding out who was the mysterious girl who dared glare at Seonghwa and what he'd do to her. That's practically what the school thrived on: gossip and drama. And frankly, she wanted no part in it.

So for the next week, she completely changed her usual routine. She purposefully used routes that she'd never gone through before to attend her classes, she refused to eat at any nearby cafes around the neighborhood, and she went as far as to not physically attend her computer science course. One of the blessings of a course involving a computer was the fact she could do it right at home and she decided to take full advantage of it. And she most certainly avoided any places where she knew Seonghwa and his group of friends tended to hang around in.

She was scared, she was willing to admit that. Scared of whatever Seonghwa was planning for her, scared of it becoming the new school gossip and overall just terrified. So even if it was a pain and hassle to go to such extremes, she wanted to avoid the confrontation at all times and she thought she was doing a fairly good job.

Apparently not good enough.

Having forgotten a few things in her locker, she went back after almost everyone had cleared out, only the staff stayed behind at this hour, locked in the teacher's lounge no doubt complaining about their day's work. She was so distracted trying to organize the books and journals in her arms that she was only brought back to reality when her locker was slammed shut right in front of her, frightening her so much that she dropped all her things to the ground. She looked back and froze when it was none other than Seonghwa who stood in front of her.

"6 days..."

His deep voice felt like ice, freezing her from moving let alone breathe.

"For 6 whole days, I've been waiting for you in class, only to find out you stayed home. Then, no matter where I searched, you always figured out a way to avoid me...."

Seonghwa leaned down, close to her face, smirking right at her.

"Well I finally caught you little one....and there's been something I wanted to do..."

Oh no! This was exactly what she feared. There was no one around to protect her or even witness what was going to happen. So Y/N closed her eyes and braced herself for whatever was going to come. She only hoped that it would end as quickly as possible.

"I like you."

Wait. What?

She looked up in shock, wondering if she heard what she thought. Seonghwa had leaned back up and stared at her.

"I like you. I've been wanting to tell you that. " He repeated himself.

Y/N didn't even know what face she made, but whatever it was, it made Seonghwa chuckle softly at her reaction. Bending down, he began to pick up her stuff that she dropped.

"I don't expect you to confess your feelings for me nor even answer me at the moment." He continued as he handed her the books and journals.

"I know you're confused right now, I would be too if I was in your place. Besides...."

He looked at her and smiled very faintly.

"There's plenty of time to get to know each other. After all, the weekend starts tomorrow."

He picked up his bookbag that he had previously set down on the floor and slung it over his shoulder. Then he took out a baby pink journal with sparkles on the side from his bag.

"By the way, you left this at class when you ran out the door." He handed her what rightfully belonged to her. She recognized it as her sketching notepad.

"See you soon Y/N. Real soon." He winked and waved goodbye at her before walking away.

Y/N stood there, her mouth wide open and looking around, questioning if this was a dream, a nightmare or reality.

What the hell just happened?!

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

"Medium hot white chocolate mocha with Irish cream syrup and whip cream."

The customer went up to the counter and picked up their drink, not even bothering to say a thank you or even acknowledge her presence.

"Thank you. Have a very nice day." Y/N repeated the customary line they all had to say when someone left the shop, making sure to add a warm smile and to use a light tone of voice.

Once the customer had left, Y/N turned back to her coworker, Jinhee, who was already groaning.

"That old geezer was such a pain! You're lucky you didn't take his order. I was about to strangle him." Jinhee complained and made a choking gesture with her hands.

"That bad huh?" Y/N asked as she wiped down the counter around the espresso machine.

"It's Saturday Y/N, and it's almost night. What do you expect? Only Karens and their annoying husbands come by for caffeine at this hour." Jinhee shook her head, tired from dealing with so many demanding and pushy customers.

"Look on the bright side, it's almost 7, meaning we get to go home soon." Y/N tried to remain positive.

"Hell yeah! I can't wait. Me and the girls are heading out to that club I was telling you about. You should seriously come."

Y/N expected Jinhee to ask her to join them, she always did. She loved Jinhee, she really did, but her style of having fun wasn't exactly her cup of tea. Y/N did not want to spend a perfectly good night getting shit faced drunk and waking up the next morning in some stranger's bed.

"Thanks Ji, but no. I have...plans tonight." She quickly said, although both knew that was a total lie.

"Yeah..... let me guess, plans that involve packets of ramen, an order of chicken wings, tub of ice cream while you rewatch some anime about a demon butler or about a people murdering journal?" Y/N hated how Jinhee knew her so well.

"Leave me alone!" Y/N threw the rag in her hand at her friend, who was now laughing at her reaction.

They both went back to their usual task of cleaning and disinfecting what was already clean since there weren't many customers when it was nearing closing time. Jinhee decided to go to the back room to make sure everything would be stocked for the next day, leaving Y/N to attend anyone who came in. Since she wasn't expecting anyone, she took out her notepad and began sketching like she usually did. She didn't know why, but the serene, tranquil atmosphere in the coffee shop, the scent of the freshly brewed coffee mixed with the light hint of cinnamon and other spices always seemed to inspire her to draw to her heart's content. And right now, she knew she wanted to draw a face. What face exactly? She didn't know. But she decided to start drawing the outline to give her a base to work with, while she figured out if she'd draw someone she knew or just an imaginary person that would only live in her mind.

The ringing of the bell signaled that someone had come inside, just when she was about to relax. Getting up, she quickly put her notebook out of sight and straightened her apron.

"Welcome! What can I get for-"

She stopped when she looked up to see Seonghwa himself in the shop. He looked at her and snorted softly.

"Don't you look adorable in that uniform."

Y/N pouted slightly, feeling self conscious about the pink and red apron.

"Aww come on, don't give me that look doll. You do look cute." Seonghwa complimented her, making her blush a little.

"Wha-what can I get for you?" She cleared her throat and went back to being professional.

Seonghwa scanned the menu options before looking back at Y/N. He studied her features closely before asking:

"What's your favorite drink?"

"Huh?" Y/N wasn't expecting him to ask her that.

It always did threw her off whenever people asked her what she liked. She hated answering cause customers would always say how boring her favorite drink was or complain it wasn't their type. Well if it's not your type, then why ask in the first place right?

"I'm still waiting for an answer doll."

Seonghwa's voice brought her out of her trance. She pondered over her choices: either tell him and get it over with or just lie and pick some random drink.

"I like a simple hot chocolate with caramel." Guess the first option was the winner.

Seonghwa looked at her endearingly when she answered.

"Not a fan of actual coffee?" He raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head. Ironic how she worked in a coffee shop yet couldn't even down a simple cafe latte cause the espresso felt too bitter on her tastebuds. Seonghwa chuckled softly, muttering a barely audible 'cute' under his breath.

"Well little lady, I guess I'll take a medium one of those and a small strawberry frappe. No coffee in that one either please."

Y/N looked at him with a questioning gaze.

"What? You're not the only one who doesn't like coffee sweetheart."

He handed her a $20 bill, not even bothering to hear the price and telling her to keep the change. He then sat down at the closest table and watched as she skillfully prepared the drinks.

When she heard the sound of the machines working, Jinhee rushed out to the front, thinking Y/N needed help.

"Do you need help?" Jinhee asked as she looked over, trying to see what Y/N was preparing.

"Relax Ji. It's only a frappe and a hot chocolate, not that difficult. It's for the guy over there." She turned her head and signaled to Seonghwa.

Jinhee had to do a double take when she saw him, her jaw dropping. Then she looked back towards Y/N.

"What?" Y/N asked as she piped the whipped cream on the frappe.

"Did one of your anime boys come to life!?" She exclaimed, making Y/N slap her arm and try to shush her.

"Shut up! That's just a guy in my class." Y/N explained as she put the drinks in a tray and maneuvered herself to put them in the front counter.

"Well now I wanna transfer to your college." Jinhee giggled, making Y/N unconsciously smile at her comment, trying hard not to laugh or she'd end up spilling everything.

"Your order is ready." She composed herself and went back to her usual demeanor.

Seonghwa walked up slowly to the counter and took the frappe and straw in front of him.

"You should smile like that more often. Makes you look even prettier."

Y/N felt her breath get caught at his comment and Jinhee nearly squealing in the back wasn't helping. She just blinked slowly as Seonghwa walked away with his frappe.

"Wait! You forgot the other drink!" She called out to him when she remembered how to use her voice.

Seonghwa shrugged.

"It's for you. You did say it was your favorite right?"

He opened the door and took one last look at her.

"See you later." He winked like he did the last time they saw each other and walked out of the shop.

Y/N stood frozen, replaying everything in her mind. Jinhee's loud voice shook her awake though.

"Holy shit! You're so lucky! He was totally hitting on you! Is he like this in class too?! I'm so jelly! Oh my God! I want one of your lover boys too!" She crossed her arms and huffed slightly.

Y/N got flustered at her comment.

"He's not my lover boy....." She whispered softly and started wiping the counter to try and get her mind off Seonghwa.

"Not yet.....but he might be." Jinhee playfully nudged her on the shoulder before giggling like a dolphin.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She still couldn't wrap the idea that Park Seonghwa actually liked her. It was a concept so foreign to her, it didn't make sense. She stared at the hot chocolate in front of her. She contemplated throwing it away, but it was too tempting. And it was for her.....

She picked up the cup and started taking small sips out of it, trying hard not to burn her tongue like she usually did. She replayed the conversation in her head once more and she found herself replaying his last words:

"See you later."

What on earth did he mean by that?

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

*Possible part 2 coming up*

[missmonsters2]

Taste of Candy

Requester: @thatgirlwholikesgirls 💘

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: Kiss me again, like you mean it.

Note: You heard the girl, kiss wanda again like u fuckin mean it. God, I kind of want to do a series for this? Like in full detail of their adventures. (Also dw bby i have your other request in the queue too)

Warnings: screaming? Fangirling? Crying?

Genre: Fluff

Count: 3438

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It starts with an umbrella and sour cola candies.

If there's one thing that Wanda can say with certainty is that she hates the small town she lives in. She hates her conservative parents, who are both lawyers. She hates that they only expect her to win, and if she isn't winning, then she isn't anything.

So, she was the student council president, the cheer captain, and they're naming her prom queen right now in her senior year.

She's got the hottest and most popular guy as her boyfriend and prom king, and even though he's a kind of an annoying know-it-all, he likes her.

It's supposed to be the best night of her life. This was supposed to be everything she wanted. Her parents were proud of Wanda because, after this, she's supposed to get married to Vision and be a housewife like her mom.

That's supposed to be her happily ever after.

So, why is it that while prom is ending, she's sitting outside on the bleachers in the rain crying?

And when she feels the rain stop pelting her on the head, she looks up. It’s you.

She’s never talked to you during all the entire years of high school because you’re not popular.

You’re not unpopular, either, but she can’t be friends with people who aren’t popular. People say you’re kind of weird as you don’t conform to any social norms or expectations, but you’re nice and smart, always willing to let people copy your homework, so they don’t bully you either. 

And you’re always eating sour cola candies.

You’re standing with her on the bleachers, coincidentally close enough that she’s under your umbrella. You’re not even looking at her as you offer her a bag of those sour fucking cola candies. 

Wanda can’t help but snort because it’s prom, and you’re not even wearing a prom dress. Just there in your ripped jeans, shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Get lost,” Wanda sneers in her mean popular girl voice because she doesn’t need you here while she’s fucking having a breakdown. 

But all she gets is a yawn as you sit down next to her, making sure she’s under your umbrella as you shove the bag of candy more obnoxiously towards her. 

Unsure what else to really do, Wanda reaches in the bag and pulls out a piece of candy, putting it in her mouth. 

It’s way too sweet, Wanda thinks. The first bite makes her jaw tingle as saliva rushes to her mouth due to the sourness.

But she likes the sweet aftertaste when all the sourness is gone. 

And for the moment, she’s not crying. 

The two of you sit in silence, watching the empty field as it continues to rain. 

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m out here and crying?” Wanda asks, not looking at you still. After all, she’s the most popular girl in high school, wouldn’t this be the most amazing news to spread.

“No,” you quietly reply, popping another candy in your mouth. Wanda thinks your voice is soft, not at all how she thought you’d sound (which is gruff for how you look). 

“Why? Aren’t you curious about why the student council president, cheer captain, and prom queen is out here crying on what’s supposed to be the best night of her life?”

You hum, “Don’t care.”

Wanda’s jaw drops a little. 

“Well--what--why are you here then?” Wanda demands as she half-sputters in disbelief. 

Wanda watches as you lull your head side-to-side and can’t help but agree with people you’re weird. 

“Well, you were crying, and you were getting wet. I have an umbrella, and I have candy. You’re under my umbrella, so you’re not getting wet anymore. You ate a piece of candy, and you stopped crying. So, your reason doesn’t really matter anymore,” you reason with her, but that doesn’t really explain to Wanda why, but she suspects that within your answer, you really meant to say there was no particular reason. You saw she was crying and getting soaked, and you had the means to stop it. So, you did.

“But,” you continue, dragging Wanda out of her thoughts, “I have other things to do that I can’t put off anymore, so...”

Wanda sighs, not expecting the slight disappointment that you had to go. She’s not even sure she understands this entire interaction. 

But suddenly, you’re shoving your umbrella in her hand, dumping the candy in her lap, before you take off your leather jacket and putting it around her shoulders. You get out into the rain, letting yourself get soaked. 

And for a moment, Wanda has a passing thought that you’re beautiful.

“That’s my favorite candy and last bag, so stop crying,” you tell her, but then pause.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry in the rain,” you finally say as if to soften your command of her to stop her tears.

And then you’re gone.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Prom ends without any further incidents, and after drying herself off in the washroom, she goes back to her friends who didn’t even notice she was missing, and her boyfriend, who only had a mild concern about the leather jacket and candy she brought back.

Wanda can’t explain why she didn’t share one piece of candy with anyone who asked.

And then school starts again, and she sees you in the halls, but you don’t even look at her.

It’s like you don’t even remember being out in the bleachers with her while she cried.

And somehow, with everything else in her life, it makes her feel worse. Graduation day comes, and Wanda can’t help but feel like the end of her life is coming closer.

She’s valedictorian, and she’s giving her speech, looking in the crowd only to realize you didn’t even fucking show up to graduation. 

Wanda has her diploma in hand, her parents take two photos with her before they flitter off to network with other people. Her boyfriend is fooling around with his friends as they take pictures and throw their football around for one last time.

And Wanda...Wanda just feels like the world is closing up on her as she stands there frozen.

But then a bag of sour cola candies comes into her view. Stunned, she looks past the bag to see you again. 

Perhaps because Wanda stands there too long without doing anything, you end up taking her empty hand out, dumping a couple candies into it. Without saying anything else, you turn to leave.

“Wait--” Wanda softly calls out, and you turn back with a brow raised.

“I’m not giving you the whole bag this time,” you frown slightly.

Wanda ignores the comment, even the little sting that you won’t give her the entire bag like last time, but maybe there are rules to getting an entire candy bag from you.

“Why are you here? You didn’t show up to walk the stage,” Wanda asks instead. She’s not even sure what she wanted to ask in the first place when said asked you to wait.

“I’m not interested in walking the stage, but I want my diploma,” you say, waving the piece of paper slightly around to show Wanda in your other hand.

“Why?” Wanda emphasizes because everyone else doesn’t care about a stupid flimsy piece of paper that said they’ve graduated from high school. They just want to walk the stage in front of their peers. 

You tilt your head, holding it up better for Wanda to see.

“The font is hilariously terrible. I wanted a copy to remember.”

The reason is so stupid, Wanda thinks, but she can’t help the chortle that comes out because it’s true, the font is awful.

Wanda finds you staring at her and clears her throat from the laughter. 

“So?” Wanda asks, “Now what for you?” 

You lick your lips, an action that Wanda thinks she was entirely too fixated on, and then nod your head outside the arena. It’s a clear sign for Wanda to follow you.

At first, she hesitates because she really shouldn’t leave the arena when her parents are bound to come back soon. But then you shake your bag of candies like you’re fucking trying to lure her out with you and Wanda makes the split decision to go.

She goes outside and sees your car out in the front. A well-kept convertible Mercedes Benz that you didn’t have before. 

“Nice car, how’d you get it?” Wanda asks, inspecting the rest of the car and finds a suitcase in the back.

“I won it in a street race,” you say so offhandedly even though Wanda whips her head towards you. You don’t offer any other explanation, though.

“What--when did you even--” Wanda doesn’t even know what to ask. Should she ask why you were street racing? Where? How did you even know?

“Prom,” is all you offer, and Wanda is in disbelief you left her because you were going to go street race.

“Okay,” Wanda breathes, “So, where are you going?” 

She saw the suitcase. 

So, you’re getting out of this shitty small town, and Wanda can’t help the stab of envy that comes.

Maybe it’s a university far away that you’re going to. University that Wanda didn’t even get a chance to apply to.

Because she has to go back.

Wanda’s going to get married and then follow the footsteps of her mother.

“Anywhere,” you say, looking at Wanda seriously. 

“You don’t have a plan?” Wanda can’t help the shallow laughter. 

“Sometimes having no plan is the plan,” you say.

“That’s stupid,” Wanda says hollowly.

“It’s better than following a plan you don’t want,” You comment, and Wanda whips her head to look at you.

“Excuse me?” The mean popular girl tone comes out.

“What now for you?” You ask, ignoring Wanda. 

Wanda doesn’t answer because everyone in this stupid small town knows what her plan is. 

And she wants to scream. 

“Come with me.”

The words hit Wanda like a freight train, and she’s staring at you as if you sprouted three heads.

“What--no, why would I--”

“You know, for the 4 years I’ve known you, all you’ve ever shown was that you were the top of the hierarchy gunning for prom queen like it was the only thing that existed in the world. And then the night you were crowned, you were crying on the bleachers. Now you’re here, graduating, and you look like you’re going to vomit.”

Wanda flares because she’s well aware of that night. Like something ugly spilled over and now won’t stop spilling.

“What would you know--” 

“It’s okay to want more than what’s planned for you.”

The words make Wanda breathless. 

Because maybe that’s the deep-rooted secret Wanda has been carrying underneath the perfect girl her parents groomed her to be.

But...

“I can’t,” Wanda’s voice cracks. 

Because this is all she’s ever known is everything that’s in front of her. How could she turn back, abandoned everything she’s done so far to get here? Her parents would never speak to her again. 

And so, Wanda turns around and goes back into the stadium, leaving behind a possibility of what could’ve been.

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That night, Wanda’s family hosts a dinner with Vision and his parents. Everyone’s laughing and enjoying themselves. Her brother is joking around with Vision, and their moms are already talking about wedding plans.

It’s just so overwhelming. 

They’re talking about coral flowers, white tablecloths, and being in a church.

They talk about Vision going to Harvard and taking over his father’s company. They talk about how Wanda’s going to have the cutest children, and it’s making her stomach churn.

She feigns sickness and excuses herself for the rest of the night to go to her room. 

It’s probably hours that pass, and the house is dead silent, signaling everyone has gone to bed.

She lays in the dark, facing the ceiling with her hands folded gently together over her stomach. 

And then she hears something hit her window gently.

Tap tap

Wanda gets up, walking over to the window and looks out confused. She sees you standing there, convertible parked out in the front, and throw pebbles at her window.

She opens it and hisses, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Wanda already said no to you. Why would you come again?

“I came to get my leather jacket,” you say, blinking. 

And it occurs to Wanda she never gave back your jacket from the night in the rain. 

She huffs, stalking back in to grab the clothing before appearing again at the window and throwing it down to you.

You catch it with ease and look back up at her.

“Wanda,” you call softly, garnering her attention, “come with me.”

She frowns.

But instead of no, she asks, “Why?”

And it’s quiet, and Wanda thinks it was dumb to ask because there’s no reason she needs to go and leave the life she has now.

“Wanda, you’re always going to be more than this small town. You don’t belong here.”

And Wanda left breathless again by you. It’s like the words ring in her ear and make it to her heart because maybe that’s what she wanted someone to confirm all along.

Of course, she wants more, but is she enough for more?

And then you pull out a bag of candy from your jacket pocket and offer it to her. 

And suddenly, Wanda turns back into her room, grabbing her small suitcase and shoving in all her clothes and belongings she’ll need. She pulls all the cash she has and her passport and then sneaks out the front door. 

It’s insane, she thinks as you take her suitcase and throw it in the back. 

It’s doesn’t make any sense at all as she gets into the car with you, someone she’s never really even spoken to, and watches her house get smaller in the side mirror. 

It’s a little scary, and she’s worried that her family will absolutely lose their shit.

But she doesn’t know how to explain the absolute fucking euphoria that’s spreading through her when she sees the sign they’re leaving their small town.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Months pass. 

Her parents did immediately freak out when she was gone. All she had sent was a simple text to Pietro that was she doesn’t want to get married to Vision and become a housewife. She wants more. 

And her parents won’t even talk to her and don’t want her to come home anymore, and while it had gutted her and took her months to get over, she was still happier out here.

Wanda feels the wind in her hair, a feeling she thinks she can’t live without now and looks over to you subtly. 

You’ve got your sunglasses on and playing the same song the two of you have been listening to for weeks now, and she thinks back to everything.

You’ve taken her to so many places now. 

She’s been to Washington to California, Arizona to Texas, Florida to New York, and now they’re on their way to the airport to go live in Hawaii for a little while. 

When going state to state, the two of you always picked up jobs here and there, saving up cash for your next trip, and Wanda’s just never felt so free.

She’s never laughed like she has now, sang like does in the morning, joke around with anyone like she does with you. 

Wanda’s not sure what any of it means. 

But sometimes, she’ll put her hand on the shift stick and likes when you place your hand over hers.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

They’ve been in Hawaii for 2 weeks now, and Wanda thinks she likes Hawaii the best out of all the places they’ve traveled to.

It’s a wonderful vacation spot, and she loves living on the beach every day. 

The two of you are working at a hotel, and Wanda managed to get off earlier than you. Tonight, they’re hosting a luau and Wanda’s sitting on the beach again with a paper and pen.

She’s been working on her admission letter to Princeton with your encouragement. 

“Hey,” Wanda hears and looks up to see you in one of those ugly Hawaiian shirts that you claim will be all the rage in a few years.

You take a seat right next to Wanda, your shoulder bumping gently as you sit down, and hand her a drink in a pineapple cup.

Wanda hums happily, seeing the tiny umbrella and takes a sip from the straw. 

“How’s your admission letter going?” You ask with your sour cola candy bag. 

Wanda doesn’t understand how you can eat them so often. She really stopped having them after that night you whisked her away in your car. Wanda doesn’t like the sour part even if she likes the sweet aftertaste.

“Going,” Wanda sighs. There’s so much she can write about, but it just seems like word vomit on paper at this point.

“You’re doing wonderfully, it’ll be amazing,” you reassure her with an ease that makes Wanda’s heart flutter. She doesn’t understand how you always seem to say the words she wants to hear. 

Wanda sets the paper down, holding it down with a pile of sand on top as she resigns to just enjoy the rest of the night with you. 

The breeze feels good against her skin, and she loves hearing the sounds of the waves against the shore. 

She’s sipping her drink and leaning her head on your shoulder as she listens to the music of the luau in the background. 

Suddenly, she feels you fiddling something in her hair. Her hand comes up to feel a flower resting against her ear. She pulls out her phone to see a red and yellow hibiscus in her hair. You’re looking to the side as you chew on your candies, and Wanda smiles.

“Where’d you get it?” Wanda asks, resuming lying on your shoulder.

“I saw it in Mr. Kahale’s backyard. I thought it would look pretty on you, so I asked him for one,” You explain as you look back at her.

“And he gave you one?” Wanda asked in a surprised tone. Mr. Kahale was known for being stingy with his flowers.

“No, so then I took it when he wasn’t looking,” you grin as Wanda slaps your arm with a laugh.

“He’s going to notice, you know,” Wanda tells you, and you shrug.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me like the last 7 times.”

And suddenly, Wanda feels a wet drop on her cheek. It starts to drizzle, not enough to cancel the luau, but she can see people in the distance, making their way back to find shelter.

She hasn’t been in the rain since the night on the bleachers. Wanda straightens herself and looks up at the rain. 

“This sure brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Wanda laughs a little, and she sees you looking up as well, the finished bag of candy forgotten. 

“You must’ve thought I was crazy crying out in the bleachers,” Wanda comments offhandedly.

“Not at all,” You say, looking over to Wanda, getting her to look at you too.

Wanda snorts. “Alright, what really made you come over to a girl crying in the rain.”

Even after all this time, Wanda still can’t believe you came over for the sake of coming over.

You sit up, brushing your hands to get the wet sand off.

“Same reason. Pretty girls shouldn’t cry in the rain,” you smile, and Wanda laughs again.

“Alright, what do pretty girls do in the rain?”

You lick your lips, and Wanda suddenly has that feeling she’s been often getting when she’s with you. 

“They get kissed,” you lean over and press your lips softly to Wanda. 

All Wanda can taste is the sour cola candies, but she’s getting the best part of it, the sweet aftertaste. It’s soft and quick. But it’s still better than any kiss she’s ever gotten from the boys she’s dated.

It makes her skin hum, and her stomach explodes with butterflies. It makes her sigh when you part from her.

Her head is swirling, and she opens her eyes to see yours staring back at her so seriously.

It’s too quick, Wanda decides. 

“Kiss me again,” she husks, “like you mean it.”

And when your lips descend on hers again, Wanda decides that she likes the candy as long as she can taste it like this.

And as long as Wanda gets her way, she’ll be the only pretty girl you’ll ever kiss again.

[angelisverba]

no need to be sorry

in which y/n realizes she loves Jason, and he can’t touch himself to the thought of her because it makes him feel guilty

word count: 12.8k

pairing: y/n and her brother’s best friend, jason

warning: strong mentions of sexual trauma and abuse. please read at your own caution if you are not comfortable with that .

author’s note: originally this was supposed to be a super long piece (and the last one) but i wanted to put something else to make the last part even longer :) THIS IS NOT EDITED, sorry not sorry hehe

March is a very confusing month. 

For y/n, it meant SAT cramming and intensive camps for the retake in may. A maxed out speed on her brain as to keep up her grades (and even improve them because God knows her math grade needs urgent care) and constantly keep her nose in her books because finals were approaching soon. 

For Jason, and the entire senior class for that matter, it meant renting out tuxedos and making appointments at the beauty salon in preparation for prom, buying tickets for prom, finding a prom date, asking out said date in a cutesy way that was memorable for both parties.

It meant asking y/n to be his prom date, but not drag her away from her studies because that just wouldn’t be fair.

Hell, Jason still hadn’t taken his girl out on a second date because she was such a busy bee, and had to settle for ‘study dates’. Really it was just him watching her chew on her bottom lip as she transferred notes from her chemistry textbook to her notebook, his own work splayed out in front of him, meaning to be completed but his attention diverted elsewhere. She’d glance up with burning cheeks to tell him that his glasses were sliding down his nose, and Jason— quite nearly in a hypnotic daze— would smile dopily at her and say ‘you’re so pretty’. She would shush him and tell him to get to work, or sometime ask for his help, and Jason would use that as an excuse to wrap his arm around her waist telling her ‘gotta whisper love, come close’ and proceed to explain how the law of gas, ideal gas, and Dalton’s Law of partial pressure differentiated from each other. 

He didn’t mind this. Any time he got with her he treasured, but god did he want to keep her tucked at his side at all times to show him off. It was selfish of him to be jealous that she wasn’t spending time with him when all she wanted to do was study for her future; for college. Selfish because Jason already had everything worked out. He’d gotten a scholarship to his dream school via football and his good-ish grades. Dorming and transportation was all set-up; he was 100% ready to go. 

But y/n? She’d confessed to Jason that she had no idea what she was doing with her life. That she was studying and doing all these things to look good for her college application, but her biggest fear was that they still wouldn’t accept her and she’d wind up going to community college. There were times where her bouncing leg would violently shake their table in the library so much, Jason would drag her out of the chair and take her on a short walk around the library (if her eyes were teary he’d sneak her into a corner and peck at her eyelids softly until she giggled). An effective strategy that resulted in a noticeable tent at his crotch, and a dreamy-eyed y/n that peeked up at him through her lashes with heated cheeks. 

He’d say, “Are you relaxed now? Or should we go home?” 

Home was his house. Y/n had her home, and Jason had his- respectively- but he referred to his place as ‘home’ and she never bothered to correct him.  More often than not (once it got to this point) y/n would nod and they’d head over to his place. 

And, well, who was she to pass up that opportunity? 

Y/n enjoyed reading her dog-eared SAT book on Jason’s bed and falling asleep on her crossed arms. Only because she would wake up an hour or so later, glued next to his side, with him also napping, lips puffy and hair extra fluffy. His hair, how a complete chocolate brown color, closely cropped since he’d cut off all the blond, fanned on the pillow and curled around the frames of his tortoise-shell glasses that he never remembered to take off. 

She’d always take them off for him, and the movement would startle him awake, his green eyes fluttering awake, eyebrows furrowed in a confusion that disappeared when he realized that it was just her. His sweet y/n with sleepy eyes who took his glasses off ever so gently, and reached over him to place them on his bedside.

They were wrapped up in their own little personal heaven when they were together, alone, and it was only disrupted when it was time for Jason to take y/n home. Grabby hands and kissy faces consumed them when she received a questioning text from her parents or brother, and the whole ‘do you really have to go’ ordeal took its course. And maybe- just maybe- Jason enjoyed the goodbyes because y/n always put extra effort into her goodbye kiss, leaning and pressing up against his mouth so their noses were squished against each other, her hand at the collar of his shirt to pull him even closer, communicating to him how much… how much she would miss him. 

She knew that Jason understood, and when they broke apart with a wet suction noise, and her eyes fluttered open to meet his, Jason knew that she knew that he knew what she was trying to say. It was a slight moment of vulnerability on her part, because it was the closest they’d get to admitting/discussing the sexual parts of their relationship. Or rather, the lack of.

But never mind that, it didn’t matter to any of them. They could be intimate without having sex. 

Right?

*                                                      *                                  *

Jason was confused. 

As silly as it was, prom was a big deal. It signified the closing of an era in a teenager’s life; the end of high school. A party to honor their struggles and begin a transition to a period of more struggles. 

Traditionally, you attend a dance with a date. A girlfriend, a crush, a last resort. One could go with friends but, Jason has a girlfriend now and he’d be damned if he didn’t take his pretty girl and show off that he was the one that got her in the end.  

The only issue was: the prom-posal.

He knew that y/n and him didn’t hang in the same crowd, and while they were both mellow, y/n held a little more reserve to public announcements.

She was shy. 

Needless to say, Jason had a very big quest on his shoulders; to find a way to ask y/n out to prom in a way that was memorable and attune to her likings. He thinks he doesn’t think he'd be able to get over it if he messed this up. 

“Jason? Bro are you even listening?” Andrew asked from across the lunch table. Kent stuffed french fries into his mouth, and glanced from both his friends. 

“Sorry, man. What was that?” Jason presses the lock button on his phone, and places it down on the table. 

“I was talking about the rager at Greg’s, is everything alright? You’ve been distant for a few days now, not having issues with y/n are you?” Andrew’s facial features darkened slightly, the deep concerns for his sister shining through his demeanor. Kent picked on the change of atmosphere, and his chewing stops. 

Jason sighed, his shoulders slanting downwards and the fabric of his letter-man jacket coming to a close at his chest. His heart-shaped lips come to a pensive pucker, debating if he should tell his best friend what was on his mind. 

At the troubled look on his face, Kent smiles encouragingly, and says, “You know you can tell us anything, J.” Andrew turns to look at his Kent while he’s speaking, and when he turns back to Jason, he nods, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. 

“What’s up?” His girlfriend’s brother leans forward, prepared to listen.

“I don’t know how to ask y/n to go to prom with me.” 

Andrew and Kent’s facial expression drop to a deadpan, and Jason’s eyebrows furrow in response, confused at their reaction. 

“What?” He looked back and forth between his two unimpressed friends, who suddenly burst into laughter; snickering and pointing fingers at him through wheezed words. 

“You’re fucking whipped,” Kent said, slapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and doubling forward.

“My sister,” their laughter calms down momentarily, “has you this upset?” And at his comment, the boys start laughing again, loud enough that it drags the attention of nearby tables. 

“Guys,” the corner of Jason’s lips struggle to stay down. “It’s not funny.” 

“Yeah, it is. Your panties are in a twist because of y/n,” Kent said, “Where is she?” He stands up from the bench and glances around the cafeteria, looking for her. 

Jason’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops, amazed at his friend’s response. “Dicks,” he mutters. “She’s with her English teacher, preparing for an exam.” 

Andrew’s chuckles die down again, and he shakes his head while rubbing his fingers on his forehead, grinning. “Deadass?”

“Yes!” Jason juts his head forward, nodding wildly. “Help me!”

Kent sits again, and places his chin on his palm. “Just go with what she likes, man.”

“Gee, thanks so much.” The stressed boy looks away, defeated.

Perhaps, it was a mistake bringing it up. Instead of receiving help, they were taking the piss out of him. He thought that maybe, because Andrew was related to the girl he was dating, he’d be a bit of hel-

“She keeps bugging me to take her to the aquarium.” 

Jason whips his head around to look at his friend, crossing his arms on the table and leaning with interest. 

“The aquarium?” He asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, they remodeled a few exhibits and she’s been wanting to see them. Sent me a text about it a few days ago,” Andrew reached back to pull out his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and pulling up a thread of texts from his sister. “Look.” 

The boy takes the phone from his friend’s hand. Y/n had sent her brother a link to the aquarium’s announcement of a reopening that occurred a few weeks before, along with ‘pleeease can we go? pleeease?’ and a puppy-eyed emoji. Andrew had only sent a curt ‘we’ll see’ to which the girl responded with screenshots of seals and penguins. 

A pang hit him straight in the heart, and he was saddened that she hadn’t asked him, given that he had refrained from taking her out in fear of distracting her from her studies. Yet, here she was asking to be taken to the aquarium, and Andrew showed no interest.  

“Take her. Ask her there. The only reason why I haven’t taken her is because she’ll ask for something from the gift shop and they’re expensive as fuck.” Andrew shrugged.

Bingo. 

With a composed look, he clicked off the phone and slid it back. On the inside, he was hopping up and down, pumping his arms with joy because everything had clicked, and he knew exactly what to do.

*                                                      *                                  *

Y/n still felt butterflies every time Jason looked at her.

Every girl wanted to be looked at by someone the way he looked at her.

A soft, dreamy daze that took over his face, eyes shining with an enamored gleam. Lashes fluttering adoringly, and lips coming together in a smirk, like he held all kinds of secrets and wanted to share them with her. His look alone said it all. I want you and only you.

It was overwhelmingly passionate. So intimate; an open admission with no shame. 

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” she whined, flopping over onto her back and throwing an arm over her head. 

They were- as usual- laying on Jason’s bed, with one of y/n’s textbooks spread open in front of them. 

“Can’t help myself,” he pushed up his glasses and raked his hair back. “You’re so pretty it’s distracting.” 

At that, y/n turned herself over so she laid next to Jason again, but her face was still nestled in the crook of her arm where her cheeks flamed. “Stop it,” she said, words muffled. 

“I’m serious.” She felt his weight dip on the bed, his hand coming to brush away hair that blocked the side of her face, and then puffs of air on her arm. Tilting her head so her eye peeked out, she saw that Jason’s mouth was hovering millimeters away from her skin, and when her eyes glanced up, an intense emerald gaze fixed on hers. “Like an angel, you are.”

Fire, heat, tingles littered the areas where his lips pressed against a trail into his skin. A blossoming feeling of affection imprinted onto her arm, and up to her cheek, where his lips lingered right underneath her lashes.

It became too much for her to handle, her heart and mind becoming muddled and confused through the overwhelming sensations that traveled throughout her nerves. Her cognitive senses seemed to refuse to acknowledge the difference between welcomed attention and… unwanted but forced attention. And, in efforts to prevent a hysteric scene or breakdown, she sprung up from her position, pressing a quick kiss into Jason’s cheek so he wouldn’t suspect anything, and sitting so she was almost completely off the bed. 

Jason watched her with… rejection. But, she wouldn’t know that because she refused to meet his eyes. Instead she said, “Have you got marshmallows in the cupboard?” 

“Uhh,” Jason cleared his throat, standing up and heading out of his room. “Yeah, I think so.”

She followed after him, shoulders hunched; ashamed. Mentally, she was pushing away repressed trauma from what seemed like yesterday. A haunting memory that refused to leave like paranoia. 

“Tiny ones or…?” He heads straight for the silver door knob next to the fridge, stepping in to squat at the lower shelves. Y/n stands in the doorway, hands awkwardly at her sides. 

“The big ones, please.” She doesn’t look up when he extends his hand to give her the fluffy white bag, and he doesn’t ask what's wrong.

Silently, y/n walks over to the kitchen island to pluck a skewer out of the drawer, and pops her hip to shut it. Jason lifts himself to sit on the countertop, his white shirt lifting to expose the pale sliver of skin that escaped from his grey sweatpants. Out the corner of her eye, she could see the enticing movement, and it caused her hands to shake, but she hid it in the twisting wrist movement of turning on the stove. 

A tearing noise comes from behind her, blending in with the clicking noises of the stove turning on. Jumping at the startling disruption, she turns to see Jason with an Oreo midway to his mouth. He gives her an open lipped smile, eyes wide as if shocked, and it makes her burst into a chuckle. 

“Can I get one?” She asked.

Wordlessly, he passed her a cookie. She took it, and it seemed that he purposely grazed his fingers over her palm. 

Y/n yanked her hand away like he’d burned her. 

Alarmed, Jason hops off the counter and moves to stand next to her.

“Y/n, is everything al-”

“Do you want a marshmallow?” She interrupted him, her breaths tense. 

“Uh, no.” He said, his head slightly shaking in disbelief at her actions. Had he done something wrong?

The girl stabbed the skewer through the white candy, and twirled it over the flames, the edges quickly turning a golden color. 

“Baby, what’s wr-” 

It catches fire, and her lips blow them off before it turns completely black, the fuh noise that escapes overpowering Jason’s gentle words. She was scared of breaking in front of him. She was scared to show him how much she was holding in.

“Can you hold this?” Voice small and squeaky.

He took the skewer out of her hands, holding it while she opened the oreo cookie. Knowing what she was gonna do, he gingerly placed the melted marshmallow on top of the frosting covered cookie, and pulled away when she sandwiched the top cookie on top.

Y/n takes a bite out of the treat, and relishes in the slightly burnt, woodsy taste of the white taffy and how it melts on her tongue and slides with ease down her throat. So much so, that a small noise of appreciation comes from the depths of her chest.

“S’good?” Jason asked, a breathy-uneasy- laugh whooshing through his nose.

She’s nodding before she looks up at him, and her head stills when she locks eyes with him. 

It’s the same, intense, focused look from before.

The one that promised so much. And it just- god she was so confused. 

So confused that she leaned forward to kiss him, disregarding the fact that- in that moment- she didn’t want affection. She needed a bit of distance and time to process her emotions.

 And instead of doing so, she lunged and connected herself to him in a smoldering embrace of their mouths. A sudden flood of inexplicable physical impressions, claiming, pleading.

Jason didn’t hesitate to respond, his hands appearing to cup at her cheeks, thumbs gingerly rubbing on the apples of her cheeks. He breathes deeply; a sharp inhale into her mouth that pulled his frame taught against hers. The forgotten treat pressed up against the divot of his pectoral muscles. 

The instant his tongue snaked into her mouth, he was bombarded with the warm and sweet taste of her mouth. Marshmallows and just her essence crowding over his taste buds; his nose also breathing in the fruity scent of her hair and woodsy burnt candy. Urgently, his lips suckled on her lower lip, y/n gasping at the sudden, ardent actions. 

Had she been any other girl, that would have been the night she finally let herself have sex with Jason. 

The mood was right; they were both bleeding mad for each other. 

But, y/n was y/n and that’s not how she was wired to go. Her mind began again with the confusion, her heart rate picking up double the rates from both the proximity of the boy and what was going to happen if the kiss continued. Did she want this? Fuck, of course she wanted this! Why was she…

“She’s not gonna do it because she’s a prude!” said one of the girls in the room. 

“No, I’m n-”

“Yeah, you are y/n. You’re a virgin. Probably wouldn’t even know what to do,” said the same girl.

Y/n had been invited to a party that the cheerleaders in her class were throwing, and boys from rival school had been invited to. They were all sitting in a circle- enough people to fill up the living room of a rich man’s house- playing a game of truth or dare, and they’d just gotten to y/n. 

She’d gotten dared to give one of the football players of the opposing school a blowjob… in the middle of the living room, with everyone watching. When they all saw her face fall, redden, and then pale,  no one wasted time to verbally pounce on her hesitance.

“Look at her! She’d pathetic Marcy, she’s not gonna do it.” The girl who invited her, Marcy, looked at her with a smirk. 

Embarrassed, and just numb to everything that was going on around her as well as what may come depending on her decisions. All she knew is that she needed to do this because she’d look bad if she didn’t. She didn’t want to be known as a prude. Even if she was a virgin. She didn’t want to be thought of badly. 

“Yes, I will.” Her meek reply had silenced the whole room.

“Come over here, and blow me.” Chris was a sophomore that was known for his promiscuous ways, and the fact that he had a big… that was evident when y/n came to kneel in front of him. 

Shaking, she sat in front of him with wide eyes, her back burning with stares and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her hands. 

Throughout it all, she felt disgusting. Ashamed. And unable to breathe because the guy wasn’t letting her come off, holding her down with a strong grip in her hair. Tears burned on her lashes and down her cheeks, partly from being unable to breathe, and the other because she was scared. 

God, she was so scared. What would happen to her when this got out? What then? When everyone knew what she’d done? There were more than enough witnesses present to attest that she’d given head to a guy she didn’t even know.

She’d felt a hand on her breast, and her eyes snapped open from their painful clench; alarmed. The guy sitting next to Chris had leaned over to touch her, and at her scared look he only laughed and continued to do it. His hand trailed lower and lower, and eventually she felt something hot spill down her aching throat. Her ears were ringing, her eyes bleary. 

Much of how she escaped had been... blurred through her panic.

But the feeling… that dreadful, terrorized feeling. It was what deer felt moments before being impacted by a car. 

She’d never forget it.

It was the same feeling creeping up on her then. The niggling, freezing, ambushed fear. It’s the reason why she pulled away from him, and said in a wet whisper, “I can’t.”

She hugs her arms across her chest, oreo still in hand, and turns away with her eyes dropped to the floor.  Y/n’s mind is reeling, utterly confused and just so scared scared scared.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jason asked, trailing after her to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. His lips are a dark shade of pink, the skin of his cheeks a flushed color; if one were to look down, they’d see the heather grey color of his sweatpants was slightly lifted. But his arousal was pushed aside by his concern towards the small girl, who shivered when his fingers grazed her shoulder. He could see her eyes were shut closed, but a tear escaped to roll down her cheeks, and at that the thick hairs of his brows dipped to crinkle on his forehead. “Y/n?”

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, her words hitching and cracking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Jason pulled her into his chest, his head shaking no no no to her apologies. “There’s no need to be sorry, dovie. It’s okay. You’re alright.” 

“But I am! I so sorry, Jason. I-” Her words died on her tongue, collapsed by a series of sobs that ruptured out of her lips. She was guilty. So so guilty. She felt like she was lying to him by not telling him of what had… occurred. 

“Baby, baby, hey. Y/n,” He pulled back to cup her face with his hands again, forcing her to gaze into his calm, forest eyes. “Listen to me. Deep breaths,” he began to inhale, his chest expanding with the intake of air. “You’re okay. I’m not mad at you for anything, dove.” 

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Y/n sets the cookie on the counter, and goes to wipe at her eyes roughly, Jason tugging at her wrists and doing it himself, shushing her as he does. 

“Well I can’t be mad if I don’t know, yeah?” He gives her a small smile. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“N-no,” she shakes her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay.” He nods, still smiling. “That’s okay. I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready.”

Y/n just nodded and gave him a sad attempt to seem happy, but her chin began to tremble, crinkles appearing underneath her lip, and she rushed to dig her nose in the crook of Jason’s neck. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you’d tell me what’s got you so upset.” He murmured into her hair, his arms wrapping around her. 

“Please, Jason. I don’t wanna,” She sniffled. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright. I’ll stop asking. Don’t wanna stress you out anymore, dovie. You need a break as it is.” Jason rubs a warm hand up and down her back soothingly when he feels her nose dip into his collarbone. 

She sniffles some more, a slight hiccup in her breaths, and Jason continues, “speaking of breaks,” this catches her attention, and y/n tilts her head so she’s able to rest it in his shoulder and look up at his side profile. “Would you like to go to the aquarium with me next week?” 

At this, her head springs up so she’s eye level with Jason, her wet eyes gleaming as a surprised smile plays on her mouth. “The aquarium?” 

“Yes, the aquarium.” Jason laughed at her response, his eyes flitting between hers. The skin of his chin crinkled because he was looking down at her, and y/n wondered how he still managed to look so good with a double chin. “A little birdy told me you’ve been wanting to go.” 

Squealing, she said, “Oh my gosh, Jason please! Can we?!” 

Jason pressed a small kiss to her nose, “Of course, silly. It’s why I asked.”

“I’ve been asking Andrew but he….” she trails off, and her eyes become squinty, “heeey, did he tell you?” 

“Mayb-” She jumped suddenly at the feeling of her phone vibrating in her back pocket. The Simpsons theme song blaring through the quiet kitchen, and letting her know her brother was calling. Most likely to tell her it was time to come home. 

“I’ll go get your stuff,” Jason mumbled, separating himself with a wistful look in his eye. 

Y/n mumbled a ‘thank you’ and fished her phone out of her back pocket, pressing the green call button and holding it up to her ear.

“Hey, lover girl. Mom says it’s time to come home. See ya,” and he hangs up before y/n can even respond. 

Rolling her eyes, y/n heads upstairs to help Jason pack her stuff with all her troubles plaguing her heart like weeds.

*                                                      *                                  *

Y/n had eased up a little on her avid studying habits because the SAT had passed, and she studied hard enough that she wasn’t planning on re-taking the exam-- no matter the score. In addition to that, there was enough to place on her shelf to make her look… well, better than good. Years worth of community service work, volunteering, participating in and starting clubs, all about to finally pay off. It was surreal. Kinda stressful, too, but now that she had time off she wanted to decompress. Enjoy herself some. 

To begin with, much of it was taking time off with herself. Meaning, no Jason, or Andrew, or her parents. Just her. She didn’t even have to explain to Jason that she wanted to be alone because after her initial comment of taking time off alone, he’d kissed her palm and murmured about how proud he was against her skin. No bitterness or spite attached. He’d even made a joke about ‘bro time with Andrew’. 

The gym nearest to her house was offering a free month trial-- which just so happened to be the amount of time she was planning on taking to relax before starting to study for finals again-- and she took it up instantly when she found out that they offered yoga and guided meditation classes. It was most likely the best thing she’d ever done.

Apart from getting an hour of physical exercise a day (because yoga is harder than it looks) she was the most relaxed ever. Her sleep was the best it’s been in so long, and her body felt so light. Time to reflect, she’d decided, was very important.

 Plus, her self-esteem had gone up knowing she was doing something to better herself for* herself. 

For the most part, that was how most of her days went.

Go to school, sometimes she’d eat lunch with Jason, get a ride home from him (the goodbye kisses ignited her), head to the gym, come back home and fall right asleep. She took advantage of the first three periods to finish any work that she had to turn in.

It’s only logical that she’d be nervous the day of her date with Jason, since it hadn’t been on her mind at all, and she hadn’t been spending time with the boy so his presence has not consoled her. An anxious fervor had plotted itself in the depths of her belly, goading her like a devil on her shoulder. Better watch how you act, it said, or you’ll fuck this all up.

Jason was the same way. 

The poor boy had also taken to working out to release his...stress. Sleepless nights were spent with the weight-rack in his father’s home gym- arms aching from the strain of bench pressing. Shirtless torso draped in a sheen of sweat, flushed a pink color and littered with prominent veins as he pulled his body upwards, jaw clenched and mind focused, having already reached the point where he listens to his body’s begs for mercy. Rhythmic release of tense breaths escaped through the hard line of his lips, muscles defined under a glint of perspiration beneath the lights of the room, shorts low on his hips. His curls dripped salty beads down the line of his nose, and matted on his forehead. 

He lost himself in the repetitive movements, body going numb until his brain turned off. 

It was almost better than sex. Hell he did it to forget about sex.  

He swears his body chose to betray him every time he was getting ready to fall asleep, projecting filthy images of a girl so sweet, he felt guilty just humoring them. Swollen red lips, hot mouths, soft hands, perky breasts blotchy with his marks. These pictures were so explicit and vivid in his brain about y/n, who was nothing but sweet and kind, and had never come close to even insinuating the things he imagined. 

Hell on earth-- torture is what it felt like, having to ignore sticking a hand down his pants and pulling at himself until he found relief with such an innocent girl on his mind. It made him feel icky and gross because she was so pure. Jason preferred to turn to exhaustion of his body rather than pleasure. And, more often that not he greeted his father’s gym with a scowl and determination to distract himself, pushing himself until he was nothing but a breathless, strained heap laying all tired-out on the bench, salty beads running a path down his forehead and dripping down his neck where his shoulders drooped-- defeated.  

Waking up the next day was a burning adventure; muscles feeling as if they’d been shot through and pricked with needles over and over again.  

But, his dignity was still intact and he was able to look y/n in the eyes with no remorse. The one time he’d jerked off to her, he was a sweating, burning mess as he made his way up to her in the halls.

He’d learned his lesson then.

His nerves didn’t run as deep as y/n’s, but he did second guess himself the more intricate his plan got. Take a certain route, be there at a certain time so there wouldn’t be so full, alert the personnel of his presence. 

Jason had approached his mother, Anne, the night that she had come home, and questioned her about her friend’s sister that worked as a zookeeper, to see if she had connections to the aquarium. Turns out, she did and-and, 

“Honey, what’s the sudden interest in Penny’s sister?” She looked up at her son while chopping green onions. 

Stammering, he rubbed his neck and said, “I was kinda… wondering- maybe, uhm… you could call in a favor for-for me…”

“What for?” 

“I wanted to ask… y/n to prom at the uhm.. The aquarium,” his cheeks go pink and he can’t keep steady eye-contact with his mother. She’s smiling at him knowingly, smiling at him from underneath the lip of the wine-glass she holds up to her mouth. 

She smacks her lip, “Y/n? The prom? When did this happen?” Anne smirked at him, scraping the onions off the cutting board with a knife onto the pan. 

This would be the moment where the distraught teenage boy goes off on his mom for being absent and not knowing a single thing about him. Slam his firsts against the counter-top while sneering. 

But Jason loved his mother and they maintained good communication, so there would be none of that. “Start of February…” He bites his thumb.

The sound of sizzling onions is what fills in the silence of their gazes. His mother slowly nodded her head, and Jason blushing. 

“I knew it.” 

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?” 

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, I knew.” 

Jason furrowed his eyebrows at his mother’s statement. “What?” 

“I knew this would happen. I knew it the day she first came in with Andrew. The instant you said her name, and that look in your eye…” She gleamed at her son. “You love her, don’t you?” 

The boy gaped at his mother. Had he really been that transparent from the beginning? So much so that not even he had noticed his feelings? “You knew?” 

“Course I did. Pushed you out of me didn’t I? Know you like the back of my hand.” His mother set the glass down and continued cutting vegetables. “It’s a mother’s instinct to know when her boy has been swept off his feet.” A soft pat on the cheek meets a dazed Jason. “Now, what’s this favor you wanted?” 

*                                                      *             ��                    *

Y/n was scared to admit how deep her feelings were for Jason.

Scared to admit that the usual fluttering gnaw at her ribs had developed into an inferno that took over her entire body, centering at her heart and spreading through her nervous system, leaving her skin a tingling network of her emotions.

Basically, take puppy love, and remove ‘puppy’. She loved him. With her entire being and more she loved him. She could see her life with him more secure than anything in her life, which was a big admission because the poor girl was all about security. And Jason made her feel more comfortable than anything in her life at that moment; he made her forget about anything that wasn’t them together in that moment. 

The morning of their date was like one of those scenes in movies where the character just has that really big realization, and all her feelings hit her at once. Y/n pieced it all together in a few seconds. How much he meant to her, how she loved him* and how scary it would be if she were to admit her feelings and receive nothing in return. 

It was at cause of these thoughts that her nerves revved up to their max, mind overthinking different ways that her feelings might cause this date to go wrong. Like something might slip from her lips; a rushed, urgent proclamation of her devotion full of jumbled stutters and met with a stunned look and a freshly single boyfriend.

“Honey, Jason’s here!” Called her mother at the base of the stairs. 

Y/n watched herself grow pale in her reflection, teeth sinking in her bottom lip. No turning back now. 

“Coming!” She took one last look at herself, pulling on the sleeves of the cardigan she layered over the long, white-eyelet dress she was saving for an occasion like this. It was a light, summer material with white embroidered flowers and a nice frilly detain around the waist. The creme cardigan served no purpose other than the fact that she was nervous, and covering up calmed her down. There wasn’t much to cover, but bare shoulders made her heart want to start a riot, screaming at her that people were looking and it was time to get anxious about whether she looked good or not. 

She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the dewy makeup on her face, drawing her mind away from picking at it until it was perfect because it would never be that and it’s okay. Instead, she focused on what lay ahead of her for the day— and maybe that was a tad bit worse but that didn’t matter because she was already in the witch’s pot and the brew was boiling— her date with Jason looming with possibility. Not to mention, she’d finally be getting to see the newly added exhibits she was longing to see. 

Cute baby sea lions, penguins and jellyfish that quickly outweighed all the disastrous scenarios filling her mind. 

Skipping down the steps with an eager smile on her lips, y/n struggled to hold in all her happy squeaks because downstairs Jason was waiting for her and-

“There she is!” Her mother greeted her at the base of the stairs, and winked at her daughter with a smile, a cheeky expression displayed upon the fact that what was happening was a surprising event. Her little y/n going out on a date with none other than her favorite out of Andrew’s friends, Jason.

This would have been the moment in the movies where everything freezes and everyone else disappears. The camera comes to a zoom in on Jason and y/n’s faces, the screen split in half but it the same, dreamy, loved-up expression on both their faces. Y/n’s cheeks warmed with a soft flush and a cheek splitting grin on her mouth, lips that shined with the gloss she had put on them, and eyes that shined under the kitchen lights with an extra sparkle that had floated up from her chest that had become the cavern where she shoved all her emotions.

Jason is equally stunned, unsure of how his girlfriend could get any more beautiful. Bunny teeth on full display, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. He wore a satin bomber jacket with a tiger on the lower right side of his abdomen that was perched on snow-capped mountains that stretched up to his chest, a swooping eagle on his left breast. Two buttons were left unclasped, the collar of a white under-shirt peeking out, and the dip of his breast-bone on display, highlighted by the glint of the golden cross necklace his grandmother had given him when he was eight.

Meanwhile he took in the sight of her, y/n did the same as well, eyes roaming all over his figure and settling on the eyes that were already set on hers. He loved how she turned a pretty bothered color when they locked dreamy gazes. How her demeanor changes to shy glances when he smiles at her all toothy- his dimples prominent on his cheeks. The boy straightened, looking proud to be able to take her on a date. 

“Well are you guys gonna stare at each other all day, or go to the aquarium?” Andrew asked. He was standing at the kitchen entrance, a bag of Cheetos in his arm, and one cheek bulging with chips. 

“Andrew!” His mother playfully swatted his bicep. “Be nice! You’ll be the same, just wait.”

“Ready to go?” Jason asked, giving a sluggish nod towards the door, his being still transfixed in y/n, who nodded equally as slow even though her heart raced a mile a minute. “Alright, let’s go then. I’ll bring her home before 10, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Y/n walked towards the hand that Jason stretched out for her to grab, her hand swimming in his. It suddenly made sense why he was able to launch a football 400 meters. His hands were big, with a wide palm and nimble fingers that wrapped around hers, the top of it striped with the pleasing ridged of his veins. 

“Bye, hunnies! Have fun…. But not too much fun!” The mother clutched at her chest, her eyes soft at the sight of Jason opening the door for her daughter. 

“Ew, mom!” Andrew said, crumbling the bag to a close and retreating up the stairs, presumably to his room. He stopped at the base, and turned to say, “And I’ll be here, the brother forgotten by this best friend, woe is me!” 

His friend twisted around with a hand on the doorknob, “You know I love you, babe!” 

Andrew said something stupid along the lines of ‘show me, ya stud!’ before his mother shushed him up and waved at the couple that it was okay to leave, approaching the doorway to lock up.

Y/n peeked sideways at Jason, finding him already looking at her with a cheeky smirk. 

“Caughtcha looking,” He said, taking hold of her hand again and giving it a mall squeeze, leaning over to peck her cheek. “Missed you, y/n.”

She wanted to stop and pull him in by both sides of his face to smash their lips together, but she knew that her mom was probably watching through the window. “Wanna kiss you good so bad, but my mom’s probably watching through the window and I don’t wanna hear about it later.” 

“It’s okay, baby, I know. Wanted to ravish you when I saw you coming down the stairs, but that’s not the most appropriate thing to do when my girlfriend’s mom is present, is it?” They reached his car, and he sped up slightly to open the door for her, placing a hand on the small of her back. The grip on her phone increased at the sudden warmth on her body, her mind jumping to dirty assumptions on where this could lead to. 

She got in the car with a quiver in her belly, and it jolted away when Jason shut the door behind her. What was she thinking? Their relationship was built upon glances and sly touches, and how she was flustered in a non-sexual way over him? Strongly?

“Did you wanna get food anywhere before?” He said when he opened the door to his side, leg hiking up and to the side to take a seat. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I’m really really craving those chicken-avocado paninis from that one little coffee shop, and I know you really like their milk tea, what do you say?”

“I say that’s a really good idea.” Y/n said, nodding with a pinch on one side of her face, her true feeling hidden. Eyes trained at the way he held the steering wheel; one hand at 12 while he turned the key into the ignition. Maybe he would hold her neck while the other rubbed at her…

What the fuck? She needs to cut it out. 

Clearing her throat and looking out the window she said, “I could definitely go for a milk tea right now…”

“Yeah? Are you excited for today?” He twists to check behind him before pulling out of his parallel position to the curb, and y/n uses that moment to glance at the smooth skin of his neck, imagining how it would feel underneath her fingertips… her mouth…

“Yes,” She chokes, saliva collecting at the back of her tongue and slipping through. There’s a small pause where she coughs, and Jason plucks a bottle of water from the glove compartment, the back of his hand grazing her knees and the tops of her thighs, which only makes her cough harder. 

“Are you okay, my love? Here,” using the flat of his wrist to take hold on the steering wheel while he opened the bottle, “drink some. I don’t want you to die before you’ve seen the jellyfish.” 

A feeble ‘thank you*’ left her lips before the water bottle occupied it. The liquid washed out anything that had agitated her, and she drank extra to fill the time for at least a few more seconds. She was terrified of doing something wrong. 

The car was pulling up the parking lot of their local cafe when she placed the bottle in the cup holder between them. Jason didn’t have a clue what was going through her head, or the fact that he should be concerned because her thoughts had traveled to him fingering her while she made a mess of his seat. He was simply so grateful to be spending time with the girl who he loved. 

Who he loved.

The boy had realized the extremities of his regards after his mother had spoken them aloud. 

You love her don’t you?

Yes, yes he did. He had known that it was there. The guzzling, spritzy feeling he felt over his chest- like when a sip of a freshly opened can of Sprite goes down your throat- when he saw her, felt her touch, thought about her, had always been there. Always. It was there the day he bumped into her outside of the locker room, her tiny frame going unnoticed when he rounded the corner of the locker room where she was waiting for her brother because he was busy texting some girl, but the moment he heard a squeaky ‘oh, I’m so sorry!’, it was there. 

In some aspects, Jason was a bit dense, and this was one of them. He didn’t act when he should’ve. Or at least recognized what was going on in that broad chest of his-- he doesn’t think he would’ve acted because Andrew wouldn’t have held back. They hadn’t developed such a strong bond to come to the understanding that they did (Jason had made a really bold statement about life long partners and Andrew had been too blown away to stay mad). 

Jason loved y/n, and he always would; that was just facts.

“Wanna stay in here or go inside with me?” He asked her, taking the key out and placing a hand on the door. 

She was lightning quick to say “With you!” a bashful look overcoming her when he looked at her all knowingly, like he could see right through her. “I’ll go with you so you don’t have to carry everything,”  y/n blubbered in efforts to reclaim her dignity, and stepped out of the car. 

He feigned being hurt, “Owie, that stung. Are you saying I’m not strong?” Jason followed after her, a playful pout in his lips, “Tell you what,” he placed an arm around her neck, tugging her close to him and putting his lips by her ear, “I can carry you and the food, at the same time.”

Tables with umbrellas were located at the front of the cafe, people sitting with their computers open or having a chat with friends. Some looked up, some didn’t, but the stares of those who did made y/n feel thousands of times shyer than what she felt. 

The girl couldn’t help but squeeze the fabric of her sweater around herself, her thoughts getting the best of her, the feeling of his lips an enticing action that drove her mad…

He knew it too, chuckling to himself as he opened the door. 

Inside, only a single person made up the line for ordering, and she was already in the process of giving the man her card to pay. Jason and y/n stood side by side, looking up at the menus as if they were thinking over their choices, but really just thinking about each other. 

“Nex- Well, well, well.”

Y/n doesn’t think she had ever forgotten that voice. And hearing it ten, with Jason at her side, brought back the fear she hadn’t even begun to overcome. Her face went white, her lungs freezing, and her feet glued to the ground. 

Shock, was the medical term for it. 

When your body is submerged into temperatures it can’t handle, it goes through a series of procedures to attempt survival. It begins to slow down to conserve energy, shutting down to keep in heat, or await help. Hearts slow, lungs slow, and in extreme, abrupt situations, a person can faint. 

At the appearance of Chris after nearly an entire year, y/n wanted to faint. She wished she had, that way she wouldn’t have to endure Jason’s confused glances, and Chris’s malicious, salacious smirk. 

“Y/n, long time no see, baby.” He said, a piece of gum that he had hidden in his cheek appearing as he started to chew, leaning forward on the counter and giving Jason a once over. “Who’s that?” 

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed at the audacity this guy had, calling his girl ‘baby’. Y/n wasn’t looking at him, she couldn’t- she wasn’t aware of what was happening anymore, retreated into deep parts of her brain- but had she, she would’ve seen a bone-chilling, intimidating look of dominance in his usually kind green eyes. “I’m her boyfriend, who are you?” He said, stepping forward so his thighs were flush with the edge of the counter. His body was pulled tight like the strings on a violin, one pluck away from releasing a disastrous melody. 

Y/n’s eyes began to tear from not blinking them, her heart going from beating normal to beating so hard she could feel it in her fingertips, her stomach dropping like it had been ripped to her feet. 

“Who am I?” Chris licked the inside of his cheek, and y/n gagged. Repulsed, her feet tripped over themselves in attempts to get to the trashcan by the pickup site. “There wasn't even anything in your mouth, babe! Guess that thing they say about muscle memory is true, huh?”

Jason didn’t pay attention to the last thing that he said because he ran over to hold his girlfriend’s hair, rubbing her back and whispering that ‘it’s okay, my love, take deep breaths’. Her body started to tremble when nothing came out, her eyes emitting actual tears now, feeling undeserving of Jason’s affection because of what she’d done.

“I’m so-rry,” she whispered, her face a splotchy, red color that made him panic on the inside at what could plague her. “Can we go?” 

“Yeah,” He nodded quickly, no questions asked.”Yeah, let’s go.” 

Y/n shot up then, practically running out of the store while Chris laughed a belly-clenching laugh that pushed her out further. Jason looked back at him once, anger on clear display because whatever the guy had done, it was bad if it made her this upset.

When he turned around, y/n’s figure was disappearing  through the view of the store’s window, arms clutching herself as she ran to the parking lot. There were more stares than when they first arrived when he ran out after her with a call of her name. 

“Y/n!” He turned the corner to see her yanking violently at his door handle, tears streaming continuously down her cheeks now. Her shoulder jerked back and pushed forward until her knuckles collided on the material of the car. She was hurting herself. “Hey!” He yelled, yanking her back and wrapping his arms around her torso to restrict her movements. 

She thrashed for a few seconds, sobs leaving her until she went limp, which was when he let her go. His eyes were wide with concern, not being able to believe what had just happened. 

“Dovie? Look at me, dovie,” With a curled finger, he gently encouraged her to look at him. Irritated, doe eyes blinked with...  fear. 

“Do you want me?” Were the words that left her mouth in a breathy tremble. 

“I always want you,” Jason said, not hesitating to respond to her abrupt inquiry. His thick brown eyebrows were still knitted, however, and she knew that she owed him answers. As much as she couldn’t bring herself to give them up, y/n said,

“Would you want me even if I was used?” She shut her eyes tight, not being able to bear looking at him. It felt as if she were the one using him then, comforted by his presence, but lying to him as well. 

He scoffed, head shaking. “Yes. Even then I’d still love you.” Jason’s composure remains the same,neither alarmed or shocked that he had let it ‘slip’ past his lips because he hadn’t. He loved her and he told her. 

Y/n, on the other hand, burst into tears and dropped her head, her forehead on his chest, chanting a pathetic, “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Y/n, I need you to tell me what just happened,” He crooned into her ear, his lips kissing her head in attempts to show his affection to comfort her, “Let me help you.” 

She shook her head, and the gold zipper of his sweater scratched her forehead when she did. “No. No, I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, her voice pleading, “I don’t want to ruin our date. Can I tell you after?” Jason looked at her with lips pressed into a firm line. “Please.” She begged.

“Not gonna ruin our date, dovie,” He kissed her right cheek, and her eyelid, the bridge of her nose, and nudged his forehead against hers, “Spent so much time waiting for you, that I’m not gonna let a silly thing break us apart. I’m willing to fight, y/n. I already have.” He fumbled behind her, unlocking the door and propping it open before he pressed a kiss to her lips. A deep press that conveyed everything he just said. I love you.

A shaky, relieved breath left her when they parted, her eyes still shut when he said, “Get in the car, my love,” with another, plushy kiss to her lips before he stepped back to see her get in the car. Her eyes opened slowly to see him smiling at her, no trace of anything strange in his eyes- like he had forgotten everything that happened in the past 10 minutes. 

Y/n mumbled an ‘okay’ and got inside, putting on his seat belt as he closed the door and walked over to his side. She wondered if this was it, if this was her messing up and at the end of the day she would be crying into her pillow because he’d broken up with her. If e was just playing nice because that was just Jason, his MO.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice that he had turned on the radio until he started singing along to it. An oldies station that he always had on if there wasn’t any music coming from his phone. It was in the middle of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U to which Jason didn’t hesitate to start singing. 

“I went to the doctor’s and guess what he told me, guess what he told me,” he looked over at her while he was singing, a playful look in his eyes, and he shimmied his shoulders. It was a classic ‘sing to your girlfriend so she’ll never forget this song and always associate this song with you’ moment. 

“I went to the doctor’s and guess what he told me, guess what he told me,” he looked over at her while he was singing, a playful look in his eyes, and he shimmied his shoulders. It was a classic ‘sing to your girlfriend so she’ll never forget this song and always associate this song with you’ moment. 

“He said girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do,” his singing voice was a direct reflection on his character, smooth like honey, but deep and slightly scratchy like the comfort of burning wood, “but he’s a fool.” 

Just then, his voice gets a little louder, “Cause nothing compares to you.” He placed a hand on her knee, his lips forming an exaggerated ‘o’ shape on the ‘you’. Jason was clearly singing to her, his eyes flickering from the road to her as a sweet gesture to direct his words to her. 

Y/n sniffled and laughed, using her finger to trace the veins on the back of Jason’s hands, looking up at him while he sang to her. She had the sudden urge to reiterate what he had confessed in the parking lot. How it swelled in her chest, and consumed her. 

But she couldn’t. It was hard and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he didn’t know the whole truth about her. Instead she wrote it on his hand. Her caresses going from random to spelling out letters on his knuckles. He noticed this. How the movements were calculated now, and the singing stopped. Green eyes went from the road to her eyes, to the road to their hands.

I love you, too.

She wiped her hand over his when she finished, and didn’t dare look up at him, so she looked out the window but left her hand in his hold. He brought it up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles, rubbing his lips over them repeatedly.

*                                                      *                                  * 

Jason stepped out of the car, and took long, quick strides over to her door, y/n admiring how long and muscular his legs looked in his jeans. He pulled the door open, leaning back so the door could swing past his torso, but staying relatively close to the car, giving her just enough space to get out. Y/n didn’t think anything of it, until she stood, and was face to face with his face, her nose swamped with the toned down scent of fresh, spring scented body wash merged with the soft smell of his skin. 

Given how close she was, she could see the lines on his cupid's bow where his skin color changed from a golden tint to the strawberry of his lips. 

“Can you kiss me properly now, baby?” He said, voice low and raspy. Hands came to flatten on the hood of his Prius, caging her in so she was close to his torso. A blush formed from the way he stared at her mouth like he was starved. 

“P-properly?” She muttered, her hands taking purchase on his hips, and smoothing up his sides, the material cool under her hands. 

“Yeah,” He licked the inside of his cheek, his head tilting, “Like this.”

Jason pushed forward until her back hit the car, and their hips were flush, y/n’s hands stuck between them, but she maneuvered them to she could palm at his chest, her nails digging in like cat’s claws when his lips found their way together, pillowed between each other in a passionate embrace that warmed her to her toes. 

“Mmph, baby ‘ya marking me with your fingers,” He spoke in a sotto voice, heavy breaths and wet noises of their smacking lips resonating through their ears.

It took everything in her not to moan, and she knew that if they kept going it would be inevitable, so she unclenched her hands with a reluctant squeak, and ducked her head into his neck. Breath hot on his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no. I… uhm, I liked it, my love. You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t be shy.” He flexed his jaw, his eyes rolling at the back of his head at recalling the feeling of her hands- dainty and small, and sweet,, and god* it was just her*- clawing at his chest. Jason dipped forward, and kissed her neck. His lips staining her skin with scorching heat, the soft skin creating a magnetic force between them. 

She moaned at that, her teeth scratching at his neck tentatively.  “Stop it,” Her head felt floaty, her limbs soft, “Wanna see the fishies and the way that you’re…” “The way that I’m what, dovie?” He’s stunned by her moan, his brain haywire. “Tell me.”

“The way you’re talking is gonna me make me wanna stay here, and I really wanna see the fishies. Please?” She’s whining; voice an embarrassingly high pitched tone. Her hands gripped the collar of his sweater for stability because her knees were shaking. 

“Alright. Alright, let’s go see the fishies, baby.” Jason pecks her one last time at the juncture of her neck, and takes a step back to grab her hand. “Come on.”

*                                                      *                                  * 

 “So, they’ve got McDonald’s, Tam’s Burgers, Ruby’s Diner, and Sushi.” Jason holds a tri-fold directory of the aquarium in one hand, and y/n’s hand in the other. 

“Sushi? At an aquarium?” She skews half her face to the side like she tasted something sour. 

“I know right?” He copies her face, “The irony. Up for burgers? It’s all they’ve got.” 

Y/n’s stomach grumbled at the mention of food, and she giggled when Jason noticed and laughed at her. “Burgers sound good,” she said, rubbing her stomach comically.  Although she was still heated by their earlier interaction, both were pretending like nothing happened, and like they didn’t have a big thing waiting for them at the end of the day.

Like she wasn’t going to reveal how sh-

“Anything for you, baby.” Jason Jason held up the tri-fold again and blew out of his lips as he made out the route to Tam’s burgers. 

When they both got there, they ordered the same thing: one cheeseburger with a vanilla milkshake. Oh, and they were sharing chili cheese fries.

It was the epitome of a perfect date for a young couple in love. They chose to sit on the same side of the booth because they were greedy to get everything they could from each other. Unnecessary touches were made more than the amount of things they said to each other. Him brushing hair behind her each, hand on her thigh, rubbing her cheeks, feeding her, wiping her mouth, her arm hooked through his, pecking his cheek after a sip of her milkshake, nudging his feet with hers, caressing his thigh. It was on the rubbing his thigh part where things would get slightly heated, and Jason would stop to kiss her, licking into her mouth to taste the vanilla that was also on his tongue.

Jason paid for their meal, much to y/n’s begging, and then walked her over to the penguin exhibit.

“Heard one of their eggs just hatched, and I want you to see it.” He said, swinging their hands between them.

“Really?” She asked, her features lifted with excitement. “Well then let’s go!” Y/n ran ahead of him, looking back at him and pulling at his arm. Laughing, they swerved around people and ran past the large tank that represented the reef ecosystem, blue light from the sun that streamed through the top of the tank dancing on their skin like shadows. It was a magical moment, even though they looked like weirdos. In their head they were in their own movie, their own world.

 “Jason, honey? Is that you?” A woman in green cargo shorts and the customary blue shirts with the aquarium’s logo on the left breast called from the inside of the penguin expedition. She had raven black hair in a low bun, and red lipstick paired with a bright smile. She was feeding the animals from  two buckets on the edge of the pool where they were jumping in. 

“Hey, Janet!” Jason called out, waving from behind the glass barrier. “Long time no see, have you gotten younger?” 

She laughed and turned around, walking through an archway and disappearing from view. A male walked out, and smiled towards the couple, nodding once and turned his attention towards the penguins. He whistled once, and they all came to him, huddling around him expectantly.

Then he bent downwards and placed the back of his hand on the penguins tummy, pressing back and they waddled backwards. He did the same to four others, pressing them so they were in a straight line, and they stayed where he placed them. Janet came out then, with black objects in her arms. 

“What are they….” Y/n asked, confused as to what was going on because she had been to this aquarium several times and had never seen such things. “... doing?” 

Janet removed one of the items from her chest, and y/n could see that they were large letters. A ‘P’ which she placed at the feet of the first penguin. ‘R’ on the one following. They rested against their bellies, and after an initial peck at it, they left it alone and watched their keepers expectantly, presumably for food. ‘O’ followed, then ‘M’. And as the question mark was being laid on the last penguin, Jason turned to watch his girlfriend’s face, waiting for the realization to hit. It didn’t take very long.

“Oh my gosh, Jason, look! Look it spells prom!” She pointed at it excitedly, a smile from ear to ear as she looked on at the animals, amused by their antics. She looked over at him to share her glee, and found him watching her with a dreamy smirk. “Look at the animals! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Will you go to prom with me?” 

Y/n’s jaw dropped, the full realization hitting her. This had been planned, more specifically, Jason had planned this. “You did this?” She asked. Looking back and then at him again as he nodded slowly, still waiting for an answer. She stood there for a moment, stunned, and after a blink she jumped into his arms. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I want to go to prom with you!” 

He didn’t waste any time in wrapping his hands around her waist and twirling her around, laughing. Kissing her cheek, he set her to her feet and she was watching him with bleary eyes, a pout on her lips. “You did this for me?” 

“Technically, my mom did, but yes. Had her call in for me. Did you like it?” He put his hands in the pocket of his bomber jacket, his lips puckered as he tried to conceal a proud smile. 

“I love it, so much, Jason I-” She’s left speechless, and she glances up at the animals again, where Janet and the other keep were throwing fish at them. “Thank you.” The tips of her fingers came to cover her mouth, tears of joy threatening to slip. 

“Don’t cry, dovie. You weren’t supposed to cry,” he cooed, slipping his hands out again to wipe at the tears that fell down her cheeks.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Leaning up on her tip-toes, y/n abruptly yanked at his jacket, and crushed their lips together. 

“There we go! Your mother would love this!” Janet whooped, and her cheers caused the couple to split from each other with red faces, laughs covering their embarrassment. 

“Hush up, and let me kiss my girl will ya?” Jason pointed a finger at her and pretended to scowl. “We’re leaving to somewhere where we can smooch in peace!” Nearby people laughed at his jokes.

“Bye, sweetie! Tell your mother I said hello!” She waved goodbye, and returned her attention to the penguins at her feet. 

Y/n waved a goodbye along with Jason, yelling a ‘thank you’ as she walked away. Her brain was still trying to process what had happened when they turned the corner and walked into the new exhibit of the darker layers of the ocean. A long, winding hallway where the only light was the glow coming from the bio-luminescence animals in the water. 

An influx of serotonin swimming through her veins, squeals leaving her where she noticed where they were. 

“The jellyfish!” She left Jason’s side to stand in front of the large glass. An abundant amount of jellyfish bobbed up and around each other at slow, hypnotizing speeds. Glowing, long tentacles swaying in their trail; networks of veiny light streams present in each of them. The blue hue reflecting off of her skin, and onto the pane where it showed her amazed reflection.

“They’re beautiful,” she mumbled. Jason caught up, and stood besides her, his figure also appearing on the glass pane that held the jellyfish. “I could watch them all day.” 

His eyes drifted from the jellyfish to her side profile, admiring how ethereal she looked in that moment. Her face was soft with curiosity and wonder. “Me too.”

“You’re not even looking at them.” She gives him a side-eye glance. 

“I know.” He turned so his feet pointed to her, and combed his hair back because a few curls were tickling his forehead. “Can’t believe I’m gonna have the prettiest girl as my prom date.” 

Y/n’s nostrils flared and she sucked in her lips to suppress a smile. “Stop it.”

“S’true. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous of me.” He sucked in a breath, “Gonna have to hold on to you so no one steals you from me.” 

She knows he means every word that leaves his lips. And that the words are meant to tickle her heart with their honesty. While they do so, they also break it. Y/n thinks she’s living a lie. Not her relationship with him, but the way she acts and portrays herself. So much of herself, she kept hidden. It hurt knowing that he was being so genuine, and she wasn’t. It hurt more than knowing he could break up with her if he knew the truth. 

So, she decided to come clean. Even though they decided on the end of the day, her conscience wasn’t letting her live. 

“Jason, I have something to tell you.” She said, her throat closing up on the second syllable of his name, and crying by the end of her sentence. 

The boy brings his palm to her lower back, and moves his thumb up and down comfortingly. “Deep breaths, y/n. I’m listening.” 

“That boy?” She tilts her chin so she’s looking at him, and he nods when they make eye contact. “From the cafe? I knew him from a party.” Deep breath. “We were playing truth or-” a sob leaves her, shoulders sagging as her composure breaks. 

Jason raises his hand from her back to her shoulder, and steps closer so she’s pressed against his chest. “It’s okay. I’m right here, baby. I’m not leaving you. Take your time.” 

It would’ve been a lot more embarrassing if people were passing, but they were the only ones there. Had there been someone, they would’ve seen a terribly emotional y/n and a very concerned Jason. 

A creeping feel of panic like the one from that night teased her toes, anxiety of her confession crawling up her spine. But she had to push through. She needed to get this off her chest. 

“We were playing truth or dare, and… and I got dared t-to suck him off in front of everyone else,” another hiccup interrupts her words, and she had to stop to take a deep breath like Jason said, giving him an ashamed, fleeting glance.  Not long enough to see that his eyes were wide with astonishment, eyebrows furrowed with bubbling rage.

“What?” He said, more on the rhetorical side to encourage her to keep talking. His mind kept jumping back to the guy at the cafe and the way he said ‘there wasn’t anything in your mouth, babe’ with a knowing look in his eyes. How he practically violated her with his eyes. Rage filled him; all he wanted to do was punch the guy in the face. 

Anger made itself present in his stunned comment, and y/n took it as a disgusted comment. She jumped to explain herself, “I didn’t want to do it! I swear I didn’t put they started calling me names, a-and I didn’t want them to be upset with me so I-” another collapse of her words, chest rising and falling with desperate breaths. The panis increased, rising up to her chest and gripping like a boa. 

Jason knew that she needed reassurance on that moment and said, “Sh, sh Dovie, deep breaths. It’s alright, I know you didn’t, my dove. That’s called peer pressure.” 

It was clear that this was something she struggled with for a long time, and it hurt him so much inside that he had so blindly lived in the presence of her pain. Held her, touched her, and never noticed that she was so deeply in pain. The anger in him became a mix of bitter remorse at the fact that he had done nothing to push at her, or present himself in a way that showed she could trust him. He was unaware he was crying too until his own vision became blurry with moisture. 

“I left right after he… after he…. Because the other boys started touching me, too. That was when you found me under that tree. Remember?” Shiny doe eyes glimmered with the light that came off the jellyfish at him. They seemed to beg him for forgiveness, for understanding that she was sorry.

“Yes, sweetheart I remember.” Soft fingers crawl up her cheek, caressing like silk at the tears that still fell. Kisses were littered in her temple with strong pressure, a display of his comfort. “Oh, I’m so sorry that you had to go through that, baby. It’s not your fault.” 

“I should have said no. I should’ve l-left or something…”

“No. No, y/n this wasn’t your fault. This wasn’t on you. You were under pressure, and they were bullying you as well… Oh my god, baby, this- You don’t want to tell authorities?” 

“No! No, no, Jason I can’t l-let anyone find out I did…” Her eyes shut with distaste, “That. Please, don’t tell anyone.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He nods.

“Do you still want me?” Her cross, and her nails dig into her arms. Y/n bowed her head and sniffled. Jason took note of this, and pried her hands off so she wouldn’t bleed. His heart clenched at the tone of desperation in her voice. It hurt him to even think that he’d leave her so easily, and his words came out more emotionally tainted than he would’ve wanted.

“Y/n look at me.” His hand cupped her cheek, and the other held both of her wrists. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and squeezed him tightly. “I’m not leaving you. Can’t you understand that I love you, baby? I’m not leaving you, not now.”

“God, Jason. I don’t deserve you.” Y/n leans into his touch, sniffling.

“No, dovie. You’ve got that all twisted. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.  You’re so good to me, so kind, and sweet,and I’m so so sorry thing happened to you. But it’s gonna be okay, yeah? We can work through this, I’ll be there by our side. I won’t leave.” The boy followed after her eyes, wanting to maintain eye contact with her, but she was shifty with her gaze. He wanted to be able for her to see-- in his eyes-- that he meant every word.

“I love you.” Y/n jumped into his chest and wrapped her hands around his neck, happy to be free of guilt, and blissfully happy that she had Jason. That he loved her, and she was able to tell him that she loved him.

After a moment of just standing in each other’s arms, head’s buried in each other’s neck with Jason muttering into her ear just how much she meant to him, they stepped back  to look at the other, and y/n laughed halfheartedly, wiping at her eyes and underneath her nose. Quiet ‘thank you’s were exchanged and they took one last good look at the jellyfish in silence. Y/n suggested they go home, and Jason said he wanted to stop by the gift shop first. Something about how how he needed a polar bear to hold onto at night.

In reality, he bought her the sea otter she wouldn’t stop petting, and a key chain with the date engraved on it. He didn’t give these to her until they were in front of her house, and he reached into the bag behind her seat.

“These are for you.” He said, placing the stuffy on her lap, and the key chain on her open palm. “A memoir. The first time we said I love you... among other things.” 

His tone was serious, mouth set in a grim line, but y/n was smiling.

“I knew something was up when you told me to wait outside. Thank you.” Leaning over the console, they both met each other halfway, and kissed each other goodbye. At the first taste of her lips, he removed his hands from the steering wheel in favor of having them on her face, holding her too him a few seconds longer than she usually would have let herself stay kissing.

“You’re welcome, dovie. I love you.” He said, pecking her lips once more, and then her nose, making her laugh through her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll call you tonight. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, too.” She opened the door, and waved once more at her boyfriend who smiled at her from inside the car.

Y/n was slightly upset over he fact that he hadn’t gotten out to walk her up the steps, and in any other situation, he would’ve. But out of his eagerness, Jason waited until she was inside, and lifted his hips to get his phone out of his pocket, calling the one person he knew would have his back if he wanted to set things straight.

It rang three times before he picked up.

“Andrew. It’s an emergency. Come over to my house tonight. Don’t let anyone see you leave.”

[jvdes]

david? it’s gretchen. i’m just returning your call about your niece.

alternatively titled: we’re all here for a fucking reason, you know. you don’t get sent some place like this for no fucking reason.

tw: violence, abuse, alcohol, vomit

it’s october 23rd, 2020, and it’s not like she’s not trying. you can say what you want about jude - a liberty nobody’s been willing to pass up before - but she is trying. contrary to popular belief, jude doesn’t, like, get off on being in a lousy fucking mood. she doesn’t like being miserable, it’s definitely not her big fucking goal. it’s just, misery seems to love her. but she’s a fighter, and she’s not gonna lay down and take it - she’s not gonna let it swallow her whole. not without a struggle, at least. 

so, it’s the anniversary of her mom’s death, but she’s making an effort, you know? and at 8:30 pm, she’s sober, she’s made it to the weekend without getting in trouble at school, and she’s pretty dead set on pretending that nothing is as fucked up as it is, or she’ll at least die trying. 

she’s even - get this - displaying a little bit of school spirit. 

2:07 pm

“are you going to the football game?” clara wilkerson had asked in sixth period chem lab, and jude tried not to laugh. it was important that she didn’t laugh, because clara, her chem lab partner, was pretty damn hot. she was smarter than jude, a pretty brunette with big green eyes, and she seemed to think jude wasn’t a total waste of space, so, you know. big win for jude, who was hoping that, sooner or later, she might be able to get in clara’s pants.

“i dunno if that’s my thing,” jude had shrugged. she had nothing against sports, and she had nothing against standing around outside at night, but it still wasn’t an activity she’d ever been dying to partake in. 

“what?” clara feigned shock. “watching the eleven meanest guys in our school homoerotically tackle the eleven meanest guys from our rival school while sipping watered-down hot chocolate that burns off your taste buds? what’s not to like?” 

“well, when you put it like that,” jude laughed. 

“exactly. it’ll be fun, you’ll see. here, give me your hand,” she instructed, and jude handed it over with a skeptical look. clara proceeded to write her address on jude’s hand, which was maybe some kind of weird power play and/or mating ritual, since clara had jude’s number, and could have absolutely just texted it to her. “so, you’ll pick me up at 6:45?” clara asked. and jude, to her credit, agreed. 

10:38 pm

it’s not like it was easy, pretending that it wasn’t the day that it was, that there wasn’t that heat beneath jude’s skin. pretending that she was distracted, like it was okay. nothing’s ever easy, right? and it wasn’t okay, not exactly - there was the clipped tone of some of her jokes, a little too high, a little too thin. something inside of her chest at the center, aching a little. 

but it was almost okay, or she could almost pretend that it was almost okay, and it was really nice to not be at home. it was nice to have someone to laugh at her jokes, nice to be standing around in the cold autumn night under the too-bright stadium lights. 

and now, as she braces herself against the wind, walking through the parking lot hand-in-hand with clara, she thinks that maybe she almost had fun. “you’re smiling!” clara announces gleefully, and jude looks over at her. “told you it’d be cool. like i said - what’s not to like? you, me, a bunch of screaming teenagers around us; it was fun.”

jude grins over at her. the parking lot is busy, now, hoards of kids moving en masse from the bleachers, body heat between them in the sharp, cold breeze. “oh, sure,” jude agreed. “i’m all about football now. you’ve converted me.” 

so it’s kind of nice. except - well. they’re walking, and there’s this plane overhead. and it’s such a small thing, jude knows that, but her smile fades all the same, because it’s like this bitter fucking reminder. like the world is mocking her for being stupid enough to think that she’d ever be okay, that she’d ever be able to make it through a night without spiraling, least of all tonight. for being stupid enough to think she deserved that much in the first place. 

without thinking much of anything at all, she turns to kiss clara then, under the distant whirr of the plane, as if maybe the noise of their breathing will be enough to drown it out. it’s their first kiss, jude’s hands on clara’s hips, like blood on blood alone will be enough to ground jude, enough to let her forget. like if she couldn’t just say it ( any of it, what plagues her ), then being touched can be enough to anchor her to the ground. always a valiant effort with her, right?

but then they’re standing in a flood of light, a truck full of boys stopped in front of them. the boys in the back whistle at them, and the one driving hangs his head out of the window, face an ugly sneer. jude recognizes him, of course - just some asshole, like all the boys are, but she knows him; he beat the shit out of her at a party for talking to his ex, and jude had ended up in the hospital with 47 stitches. “moved on from your regular sluts, bright?” he says, and jude pulls away from clara. clara rolls her eyes, but jude, she squares her shoulders and flips them off, squinting in the light. 

“they’re just being jerks,” clara said quietly, “let’s go.” jude’s car isn’t that far away. they could just go. they could just walk away. but when was jude ever going to leave well enough alone? that heat, that raw anger pulsing beneath her skin, barely contained all day, waiting for any excuse to slither out of her like a sickness. just give me a fucking reason. isn’t that what she’s always thinking?

“the fuck did you just say?” jude challenges, and clara tenses beside her, gripping jude’s arm through her jacket. 

“just surprised you found someone willing to be out in public with you,” he said, opening the door and approaching them. he moved toward them in that quick, confident way that boys seem to always have about them. he was close to them now, so close, and fucking with them. fucking with them just because he could, just because he saw them, because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and boys love seeing if they can scare girls. “not that i meant to interrupt,” he adds, skeezy, gross. “go on. go ahead, i’m happy to watch. we can all have a little fun here, right? after party, yunno,” he continues, and jude can smell the alcohol on his breath, that’s how close he is to her. 

she doesn’t stand down, though, not even as clara’s nails bare into her skin even through her jacket. it’s that wicked, wild heat inside of her, that vicious anger. ( you’re like a feral fucking dog, clara will yell at her in a few minutes, once it’s all been said and done. ) “he’s not worth it,” clara whispers, “we can just walk away.”

jude does not just walk away. “get back in your shitty fucking truck, and get the fuck away from me, or i’ll kick your ass,” she says, trying to feel taller than she really is. he has at least five inches on her, maybe more, but she crosses her arms anyways. 

( she must know by now, though, that there’s no way this is going to end well, right? maybe she had been trying, maybe she had been sober and not in any trouble so far, but she must know now that the choice to not walk away is the fatal one, right? which just goes to show, she knows: anything that happens next is deserved. anything that happens next is just her doing it to herself. )

“oh, yeah. ‘cause we all remember how well that worked out last time,” the boy says, and that’s enough. 

“jude,” clara says, “walk the fuck away.”

the high school parking lot hasn’t been redone since 1976, and the concrete parking blocks are falling apart, crumbling where they stand, chunks of concrete strewn around the parking lot. maybe, if anybody’d cared enough to try and fix up the parking lot any time in the last 20 years, there wouldn’t have been a chunk of concrete at jude’s feet. and without a chunk of concrete at her feet, she certainly wouldn’t have sent it flying through the windshield of the truck. but there was, and she did, and so the cop that parked in the high school parking lot during school events came over, and jude wound up being driven home in a cop car. 

but she’d tried, you know? 

11:21 pm

not that it mattered. not that she’d say so to her uncle, who dragged her inside by the collar, a hand on her neck she could just not shrug off. “what in the everloving fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, as soon as the door was shut behind them, closing out the cool autumn air and leaving room for only guilt. 

it was a question that she was uninterested in answering, so she raised a middle finger behind her as she climbed the stairs. she moved to slip into her bedroom, but he followed her like a shadow, gripping her by the arm before she could manage. she whipped around, and she wanted so desperately to be calm, but she wasn’t. “have you got any idea how fucking lucky you are, jude? that they’re not pressing charges, that you’re here right now, and not in a fucking cell? jesus christ! and you’re looking at me like you’re pissed off. who the fuck do you think you are?”

jude glared up at him, chest heaving, eyes dark and wild. what a miserable fucking question. “i think,” she began flatly, “that i’m a future player for the Mets.” there was that vein on his neck again, and she knew, of course, that she was only making things worse for herself. that’s what she does best, but it’s okay, everyone - she’s going to get what she deserves. “it was a good throw,” she added, “you should have seen it. you would have been proud.”

“did you think of that on the way home?” he asked quietly. he, too, was trying to pretend he was calm, and doing a shitty job at it. “how long did that one take you, jude? ten minutes? twenty?”

“i thought of it on the fly, actually,” she answered, and he laughed - an unpleasant, humorless, bitter little laugh in the quiet, airless space of the house. “it’s a talent. a calling, even.”

“your calling is being a destructive piece of shit. good for fucking nothing, i swear. have you ever taken responsibility for a single thing in your goddamn life? no. everything is always somebody else’s fault, right, jude? just like your fucking mother. you’re not a future player for the Mets. I’ll tell you where you’ll be in two years, jude. you’ll be dead, or you’ll be in jail. you wanna talk about being proud? your mother, she was no prize, but even she would be so fucking ashamed of you.” it’s the way his voice bleeds into a vocal fry when he’s angry, the way his eyes burn.

she closed the door to her room behind her, and david let her. she allowed herself a minute or two to get herself together, shaking on her bed, before she slipped out of her bedroom window, into the cold night. 

12:12 am

she’d tried, right? but that had gotten her nowhere, so obviously, it was a total waste of time. that’s what she was thinking as she sipped shitty vodka from the little bottle she’d pocketed from the skeezy liquor store down the street: what a waste of fucking time. 

tonight was always going to end this way, wasn’t it? there was no reality where she drove clara home and kissed her goodnight; jude didn’t deserve that. there was only now, here, leaning over the railing of the overpass, vision drunk and swimming, thinking about what a waste of fucking space she was. she polished off the bottle, then flung the bottle into the street, closing her eyes and listening for the cracking noise of glass meeting asphalt. 

maybe i’ll go get high, she thought, then turned around and started walking against the wind.

2:08 am

david bright stood around the corner of the wall, a metal baseball bat in his hands. it was the anniversary of his sister’s death - or had been, until midnight - and somebody had broken into his fucking house. well, broken in was a strong word to use, since he’d forgotten to lock the deadbolt in lieu of who had greeted him at the door the last time he’d opened it, so a bobby pin or a credit card was enough to jimmy it open.  still - he could hear the culprit moving around in the dark, and from where he stood, he could see the front door, still wide open, swinging lazily on it’s hinges, letting in a draft, an open square of darkness in the wall like a missing tooth. 

he was going to handle it, though. he’d had a bit to drink, but you don’t play piano for years without learning some hand-eye coordination, and whoever it was that was stumbling around his house after leaving the door wide open behind them, he could handle them. he was a man who handled things, wasn’t he?

he could see their shadow, swaying in the night, in the moonlight, and he turned the corner, swinging the bat as he did, proud of himself for catching the intruder off guard. 

jude swore as the bat hit her shoulder, and, far from sober, that one hit was enough to send her slipping to the ground, landing on her ass. 

david saw her, then - that flash of red hair, the wide, frightened eyes, the jacket that had belonged to his sister. he’d deny it, of course, even to himself - he’d thought she was an intruder, right?

( of course, maybe he always knew it was her, even before he grabbed the bat, even before the first swing. why else would he not call the police? )

he’d heard her voice, though, after he’d hit her for the first time, but he swung again anyways, like it was a movie he was watching, like things were already in motion, like they were outside of his control. so he swung again, his position readjusted to hit her in her new space on the floor, and there was that loud, sick and vicious sound of metal hitting skull. a horrific thud. 

instinctively, slowly, a wounded animal, jude curled into a ball, arms above her head in defense, and he swung a final time, leaving an angry red mark on the soft flesh of her skin. “stop!” she slurred in the darkness, tasting blood. 

jude saw, even through her swimming vision, that single flash on his face, that crack in the facade; an expression so familiar it made her feel sick. that horror. what have i done? anger that’s gotten the best of you. a burning under your skin. some things run in the family, she thought dizzily, terribly, and then, it was like it had never happened, and despite what had all just transpired in no time at all, despite the smell of alcohol coming so strongly from the both of them, he was calm again.

“you forgot your key,” he said, maybe as a question or maybe as a statement, and he took a shuddering breath. they stayed there, jude gazing up at him.

to david, her glassy, dilated eyes seemed to look right through him, a fever-bright stare that seemed to burn into his skin like a brand. ( had she always looked that much like delilah? with those fucking eyes, so fucking green? jesus. )

it was quiet for a long time before he finally said, “something needs to change, jude.” jude laughed, so quiet and so weak it was almost a rasp. and how. 

without saying any more, he turned around, disappearing into the hall with footsteps that echoed in jude’s mind, making her head ache furiously. she sat there as he left her behind, body aching like one complete wound. 

shame and anger spun in dizzy circles around her head, and it was a long time before she thought she’d be able to make it upstairs to her bedroom. she dragged herself up, eyes closed, her only true sense the metallic taste of blood. he’s going to kill me, she thought, as she closed her bedroom door behind her. he’s going to kill me one day, and i’m going to let him. and that will be on me. 

she wants to break something. she wants to break. she wants the room to stop spinning, she wants the pain to stop, for the pain to get worse. FUCK! this is something she owes to herself. letting men do what they want to her - since when is that her? and her uncle was right, she knows; her mom would be so fucking ashamed. jude is so fucking ashamed.

something needs to change. she barely stifles a sob. i am so fucking spineless. holy shit. 

she barely made it to the bathroom, but she did, vomiting vodka and stomach acid as she clung to the porcelain. please let me black out, she thought. please let me black out. i don’t wanna remember this. please let me just forget this. 

she did black out. when she finally managed to stand on two feet, to crawl out of bed and drag herself into the bathroom to vomit again, she saw her reflection in the mirror, the skin of the right side of her face an angry swell of black and red, and she thought to herself, i must have been in a fight at a party or something. just a fight, or something like that. some stupid fight. 

[moonshineholland]

Never Let Me Go / T.H. x reader

R E Q U E S T: Hi! Saw that you’re taking requests and i was thinking maybe i could get some imagine? One where tom took his stress out on his girlfriend causing them to have this huge fight the night before they have to spend time with both of their families and of course, the whole family knows something’s wrong because both of them are not in the mood and the two mothers of both sides decides to talk to them separately and then making them make up? Thank youuuu in advance! Hope you can see this! 🥰

A/N: It’s been so long since I've actually sat down to right something so I hope this is half decent! Shoutout to @cumholland​ for reading through this and helping me out💖

W A R N I N G S: Kinda angsty, I guess you could interpret the ending as being a little suggestive *wiggles eyebrows*😂

W O R D • C O U N T: 2.8k

The silence in the car was killing you and you were 99.9% sure it was killing Tom too. The atmosphere was tense, even as you pretended to be busy counting the trees, but neither of you were planning on being the first to apologise, you’d gone all morning hardly uttering a word to each other and you weren’t about to give in and be nice to him, especially with the way he had treated you this morning. 

You’d both woken up when Tom’s alarm went off at 7:30. Usually, he’d wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder, yet today there wasn’t even a “good morning darling” which, of course, stung. Tom rolled out of bed and you just pulled the covers up further, staring at the wardrobe as he got ready, you thought about turning over whilst he was picking his clothes out but then you realised just how petty that would be so you averted your gaze, the wall suddenly becoming much more interesting. 

“We’re leaving in an hour.” And with that, Tom had left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. You could feel the tears prickling your waterline, the first thing he’d said to you in over twelve hours and it couldn’t have sounded more bitter, like he didn’t want to go, especially not with you. You sighed, throwing back the covers and trudging into the bathroom, coming to stand in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. Normally you'd be stood with a smile on your face, having just shared some loving moments with him before forcing yourselves to get up, you’d brush your teeth in a comfortable silence, sneaking side-eye glances at him that he would always, always catch, wiggling his eyes brows at you before turning to rest his back against the counter. This morning you brushed your teeth alone, sadness hanging in the air. 

You made the bed, picking up the stray cushions that were strewn across the floor, they’d usually get stacked neatly to one side before the two of you got into bed but not last night, last night you’d thrown them angrily, not caring where they landed just so long as you could curl up in bed and fall asleep before Tom came up. The sun was shining when you opened the curtains, a pleasant change from the gloom of yesterday, it gave you hope that you would still have a good weekend at the beach house, with both of your families, regardless of whether you and Tom were on speaking terms or not. 

Sifting through your side of the wardrobe you decided on your favourite red sundress, decorated with tiny daisies and frills underneath the bust, one of Tom’s favourite dresses, not that you were dressing for his pleasure. You grabbed your denim jacket from the back of the door and your small suitcase, taking one final glance at the picture of the two of you that sat on the desk, it was taken on a double date, you’d scooped some whipped cream from your milkshake onto the tip of his nose, his mouth hanging open and feigning shock, whilst you were caught mid laugh, you never laughed as hard as you did when you were with him.

You made your way downstairs, lingering on the middle steps. You still had twenty minutes left, did you really want to sit in an uncomfortable silence with your boyfriend? But you definitely needed a drink so you continued your decent, breezing right past Tom, who was watching the football highlights and into the kitchen. Coffee brewed, you sat at the kitchen table scrolling through instagram, pretty much losing track of time as you came to the end of your drink. You hadn’t had any breakfast and you knew that if you rushed to make something it would only piss Tom off even more, so you picked up a banana, you’d eat it in the car.

“You’re not eating that in my car.” He’d noticed the banana in your hand straight away, almost as if he was waiting to find something to start an argument about. You didn't even know whether to respond, at first you thought he was joking but when he walked out of the house, not even offering to take your bags, you knew you wouldn’t even be getting the chance to retaliate. That was enough to turn your sombre mood into that of a sour one and without even thinking twice you threw the banana through the kitchen door, straight at the unsuspecting washing machine.

And now here you were, driving to Cornwall, hungry and slightly angry, hangry. Tom had never really cared too much about you eating in his car just so long as you were careful and, considering you weren’t a child anymore, you generally did a really good job of keeping your food in your mouth and not anywhere else. Yes, Tom had gotten his car cleaned a couple of days ago but that had never meant you couldn’t eat a measly banana in there, he was doing it just to spite you and you hated it. When did the two of you ever get like this? Yeah you’d ‘bicker’ here and there but it never lasted more than ten minutes and always ended in an apology. 

About an hour into the trip you’d popped your headphones on. The quietness of the car was getting to be too much, so you’d decided that listening to some of your favourite songs would put you in a better mood, hopefully. It certainly helped to pass the time because before you knew it you’d pulled up to the row of beach houses and before you even had time to register that you were here, Tom was out of the car and already making his way inside with his bags, having tossed the car keys onto your lap, he obviously didn’t feel like waiting for you to struggle stuffing your headphones into your backpack. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closing so as to stop those pesky tears yet again, thinking about the time the two of you spent here last year. 

Last year was your first time at the beach houses, having only been with Tom for four months, he’d invited you so that he could spend his time off with both you and his family, it had been the most amazing three days. You spent the evenings cuddled up next time him on an outdoor daybed, drinking wine and combing your fingers through his hair, having known just how jam-packed his schedule had been, it was nice to see him relax, enjoying the company of his family and even though he knew he’d be back to work soon he never dwelled on those thoughts. On your last evening in Cornwall you'd stayed awake until everyone else had gone to bed, staring up at the stars and finishing off the last of your rosé, he’d buried his face in your hair and whispered, “I love you.” 

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the footwell and opening the car door, you thought about getting your bags from the boot, but ultimately decided that you really couldn’t be bothered, all you wanted was to go and lie down, the bags could wait until later. With the car locked you made your way inside, your mum quick to pull you into a hug, seeing her face provided you with a sense of relief and you let out a sigh, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. It was Nikki’s idea to have your family come down to Cornwall this year, she knew how much you were missing everyone since moving in with Tom, it was such a sweet gesture that you had cried when she told you she’d arranged everything with your mum. 

“What’s wrong?” your mum was sure to keep her voice down, making sure only you heard as she still held you in her arms.

“Nothing.” You mumbled.

“Come on, a mother can always tell when there’s something wrong with her child.” She wasn’t letting up but you really didn't have the energy to talk about it.

“Why don’t you ask him.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” She pulled away slightly but still kept one arm around your shoulder, both of you watching on as your dad was busy chatting with Tom and Dom.

“I guess you could say that.” You sighed, a deep sigh that came from the bottom of your lungs. You wanted to be stood with Tom, resting your head on his shoulder. You wished it was like last year, full of love, excitement and lust. Looks like the honeymoon period is over, huh?

Nikki’s voice cut through everyone's chatting as she stood with the keys to the houses, explaining who would be staying where along the row of beach houses. Harry, Sam and Paddy had their own place, next to them Nikki and Dom and your parents had decided to share a house and yours and Tom’s house was just a little walk away. No-one had really noticed that anything was wrong with either of you until Nikki had handed Tom the key to your place, watching as you approached him without a word, without even a smile and took the key out of his hands. You picked up his bags and headed for the front door, as much as you loved spending time with his family and as much as you missed yours, it was all a bit overwhelming and kind of painful, the majority of the people in the room were related to Tom, you really just needed to get out of there and catch your breath.

“Where are you going?” Tom’s voice followed you outside, closing the wooden door behind him as he stepped onto the path. 

“To our place.” There was more you wanted to say but kept it to yourself, you didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” You did want him to, deep down but you couldn’t let him think everything had blown over just because you were in your little paradise. 

“No,” you weren’t looking at him, your eyes were focused on the beach, the soft waves that lapped against the shore, but you could practically see the frown on his face. It made you feel bad instantly. “I’m gonna go for a lie down, so there wouldn’t be much conversation anyway.” You looked back at him over your shoulder, forcing a half smile onto your face before heading to the house.  

•••

Tom had been trying to distract himself since you’d left, fiddling with his phone in his hands whilst he tried his best to pay attention to his brothers’ conversation about their game of golf last week, something he’d usually be very interested in but all he could think about is whether he should text you, make sure you’re ok. He looked up at the sunset, thinking back to last year when the two of you had no worries. You’d sit outside for hours and hours laughing and chatting and then he’d watch your face light up in awe at the pretty colours that spread across the sky, lifting your phone to capture a picture.

“Tom?” His mothers’ voice eventually caught his attention as she peered her head through the sliding glass doors, “can I borrow you for a second?” He stood up, sliding his phone into the pocket of his dark wash jeans, grabbing his beer from the table as he made his way inside, following his mum into the living room. He sat across from his mum and yours and he was pretty sure he knew where this was going. 

“What’s going on?” 

He sighed, sinking down further into his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I-, I’ve been a dick,” he said with an even bigger sigh. “We had an argument last night, it’s my fault, I’d had a really shitty day at work and I took it out on her, which I know is no excuse and I don’t know, we were pretty horrible to each other.”

“And have you apologised?”

He shook his head, looking down, almost as if he was ashamed. His mum had always told him that no matter what, he should never go to bed on a argument and last night he did. Not only did he feel like he’d let you down but his mum as well and yours. “I guess I was just being too stubborn,” he scoffed, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes diverting to the kitchen.

“Tom,” your mum started, “if there’s anything I can tell you about her, it’s that she loves you more than anything, she never bloody shuts up about you!” that made him smile as he looked down, a compliment that filled his heart with warmth. “She’s told me a million times that all she ever wants is for you to hold her and never let go, she’s never said that about anyone,” your mum had tears in her eyes, “so please don’t let go, especially over something so trivial.” 

She was right, in the grand scheme of things it was trivial, sure both of you might’ve said some mean things but Tom knew it was definitely in the heat of the moment, he’d come in and taken his stress out on you, which wound you up, it was only fair you’d be angry but he missed you. Not talking to you all day or holding your hand or kissing you had really taken it’s toll on him, he felt ten times more stressed than he did yesterday. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, to both mums, he truly appreciated their intervention. He had worried about whether he’d let his stubbornness take over, he’d wondered just how long it’d go on for, would he be sleeping next to you tonight? Or on the couch?

He pulled out his phone, he wanted you to come over here, spend time with everyone but he knew what he had to do first. He started typing out the message:

Please come over, we need to talk, miss you xx

•••

You’d been sitting at the kitchen table doing absolutely nothing but drinking a cup of tea when Tom’s text flashed up on your phone and you’d be lying if you said that you didn't smile at it. It was finally going to be over, you hoped. Surely you couldn’t argue anymore, right? You finished off the rest of your cup before slipping on your shoes and rummaging through Tom’s bag that you’d discarded on the couch earlier, pulling his pale blue hoodie out and shoving it on.

When you entered the house you were met with complete silence, you assumed everyone was in the garden but when you entered the kitchen you saw him sat there with his head in his hands. At the sound of your footsteps and your hand on his back he bolted up. “H-hey.” His voice was soft, you could tell he’d been crying. You let your hand trail from his back, down his arm and to his hand, letting him pull you gently into his lap, wrapping your arm around his neck as you perched. He looked up at you, his eyes red and puppy-like. “I’m so sorry darlin,” his voice broke slightly as he pulled at the strings of his hoodie, the smallest of smiles making it’s way onto his face as he noticed you were wearing his Suspicious Antwerp hoodie. 

“No I'm sorry, I should’ve just understood that you’d had a hard day and let it go.” You apologised.

“But how were you to know? I shouldn’t have had such an attitude on me,” he brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your cheek delicately “I love you and I don’t ever want to let go of you.” He mumbled, looking intently into your eyes. “Well, we’ve missed the sunset, so how about, we take this bottle of wine,” he leant forward and picked it up off the table, it was your favourite, “and have a bath? And I'll make it up to you, let you know just how sorry I really am.” His lips were pressed delicately against the skin under your ear, the hand that wasn’t holding the bottle of wine was rubbing soft circles on your skin under his hoodie.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know, please never let me go.”

[starkerforlife6969]

Summer lovin’ - Starker

break up make up fluff, some possessive/jealous tony, and some healthy relationships over here! 

It feels damn good to be back for Senior year.

Summer settles neatly onto the past of Tony’s shoulders, and he steps through the main entrance with a smile on his face.

Immediately, his crew flock to him. Abandoning their lockers- newly painted after summer- and eagerly inquiring after lunch plans and new timetables.

“I heard about Pete,” Steve says quietly, bumping Tony’s shoulder in solidarity. “That sucks man, I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve had all summer to get over it,” Tony sighs. He’d hoped it would be old news by the time school started. They’d had over two months for the gossip to die down. He should’ve known it was a long shot. “It was amicable. Mutual.” 

“Doesn’t have to be,” Natasha grins slyly, “we can say you dumped his sorry ass.”

He knows she’s teasing, but he trips her up just in case she’s not.

*

It only takes a week to settle back into old routines. 

He cruises by in classes like always, relying on his natural flair and intelligence to get him by, and football season starts up again. The freshmen learn their place quickly, check the rungs of the social ladder and know where to sit in the cafeteria. Tony’s at the top, of course, and it’s all pretty great. He likes seeing new faces of admiration to add to his narcissism bank. 

He’s walking down the hall on a Tuesday morning, when he looks up and by chance, catches a glimpse of Peter Parker setting books into his locker.

It’s the first time he’s seen him in a long time. Summer’s done him good. His freckles are all pronounced, hair longer and curlier than Tony remembers, in a cream sweater and tight green pants that should awful but just look good. 

“Tony,” Peter smiles, voice soft, and Tony had thought he was over it, but his heart jerks and flips like he was punched in the chest.

“Pete,” he manages, coming to a staggered stop by the boy’s locker. “How was your summer?”

Peter bounces on his heels the way he always does when he’s excited. “Math camp was awesome!” and he barrels into an enthusiastic regaling of the few weeks away. “I haven’t- haven’t seen you since we’ve been back.”

Tony nods. “Big year.”

Peter meets his eyes. “I’ve missed you. We could…hang out, if it’s not…I mean, it’s probably weird-“

“Not weird.” Tony murmurs, even though it is weird. “We could get milkshakes sometime when you’re free.” 

Steve and Natasha are sending him curious looks from across the hall. 

“That’d be great,” Peter beams, “I’ll text you?”

*

He’s over it, he says to himself, watching Peter suck down a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream. 

He’s over it, even as Peter manages to pry him open the way even his own mother can’t. 

He’s over it, even when Peter touches his wrist and says that he doesn’t have to play football if he doesn’t want to. And that MIT will definitely accept his college application. 

“I was thinking,” Peter’s cheeks blush, a lovelier shade than the milkshake, “I might apply to MIT too. That could be kinda fun, right? Imagine if we both got in?” 

Totally not over it, Tony thinks to himself, as he imagines four years of college with Peter B. Parker. 

*

“So, what’s the 411?” Nat asks in the cafeteria, squinting at her pudding cup.

“The what?”

“The lowdown, c’mon, Tony, you and Peter broke up right after the semester finished. No one saw you all summer. And now you’re friends? I want details.” Her eyes light up with possibilities, “was he cheating with that guy from Harrison college like you thought?”

He has to close his eyes, shame rushing through his system, “no, he wasn’t. We’re- we’re in a good place. It’s good.”

“Where were you all summer?”

“I was working on myself, that’s all. A little fine tuning, here and there. It wasn’t too hard. Can’t really improve on perfection.”

She throws her pudding cup at him.

*

Contrary to popular belief, Tony’s never actually started a fight before. Never thrown a punch. 

He has now though. There are bruises on his knuckles. 

“We have to break up,” he says to Peter, on the last day of school, tucked away under the bleachers near an empty field. Everyone’s pulling pranks inside as per tradition. 

Peter nibbles on his bottom lip, and his lashes are long and his eyes are huge. “We love each other,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound beseeching. He’s nodding, like he thinks they should too. 

That gives Tony the final push. He’s making the right decision. “I love you so much, Pete.”

“I love you too, Tony. But I think you’re right.”

“Is Harry okay?”

Peter looks away and Tony feels ashamed. “He’s fine. He’s not- he’s not angry with you or anything.”

“Tell him I’m sorry again, anyway,” he swallows hard, ducks his head. “And are you…are you okay?”

“I can’t believe you thought I’d-“

“I didn’t, really-“

“I would never do that to you, Tony.”

“I know, I know.” Tony takes a breath. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m- I’m gonna change. But I think we should…”

“Be apart.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods, and he smiles, tiptoeing up to kiss Tony right on the mouth. Sensual and full of longing. Tony groans against him. “Just something to remember you by this summer,” Peter sighs, winking, and Tony laughs.

He moves out of his parents house that summer and in with his aunt.

His dad is a bitch to get out of his head but every day it becomes easier and easier to ignore him. 

*

They tread carefully around each other. There’s a new friendship on top of an old foundation and they want to make sure everything’s solid before moving too far. 

“Separate timetables,” Peter confirms, sliding his back into his pristine notebook. “But we’re still on for Karaoke this Saturday? You can bring your friends.”

“Not a date,” Tony chuckles, “just friends hanging out.”

“Just friends.” Peter beams, “but…we should bring people. A lot of people.” Tony quirks an eyebrow and Peter sighs: bashful. “To resist temptation.” He explains. 

Tony laughs at that, loud and delighted.

*

“Maybe take another route to class.” Steve mutters, hands warning on Tony’s arm, trying to tug him back. “Let’s go around the west block-“

But now Tony has to see. He rounds the corner and- and-

There’s Peter, his hair ridiculously, adorably mussed from the wind outside and he’s in a flannel shirt with fucking dungarees, but more important than any of that- there’s a letterman jacket on his shoulders. 

The name B A R N E S - 12 embellished on the brilliant blue.

And that must be the name of the guy leaning against Peter’s locker, and looking down at him with interest. The guy’s built, with slicked back hair and dark combat boots and a weird sort of brooding intensity. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Tony asks, voice level, tone quiet.

“New guy.” Steve winces, “James, I think? Peter’s his assigned tour buddy.”

His knuckles ache with the memory of Harry, and he turns away.

*

Peter gets a new profile picture on facebook. It interrupts Tony’s flow of memes to see Peter balancing on a hay bale against the sunset looking like a country child. He smiles, before noticing-

It’s a video pic.

Tony plays it. 

“I’m king of the world!” Peter yells in delight, nearly losing his balance, arms flailing. 

“You’re a moron!” Someone behind the camera hollers fondly and Tony recognises the voice. The low, brooding timbre.

*

“So, you and James, huh?” He asks, going for nonchalant as he catches up to Peter as they walk to the parking lot after school.

Peter quirks an eyebrow in surprise. “Who?”

“James, new guy, very built, very tall.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Peter laughs, “I’m his assigned tour guide, I think he wants to try out for football so you could have another player on your team!”

Tony gets to his car and feels like everything’s slipping away. “How your MIT application going?” He asks desperately, and Peter hums.

“Sent it off yesterday, how about you?”

Relief courses through Tony’s system. “Sending it off tomorrow.” He promises and Peter gives him a ludicrously adorable thumbs up. 

*

The next morning, Peter is wrapped up in a leather jacket three sizes too big, and Bucky Barnes is  at his side.

Tony’s knuckles ache. He tries to pretend to be interested in the contents of his locker, but his ears are straining-

“Dinner, tonight?” Bucky says, voice low and inviting.

“I promised Ned we’d finish the Lego death star. You can join us if you like.”

“A movie on Friday.”

“Buck…”

“Think about it. Please.”

The bell rings. 

“Wait, take your jacket-“

“Keep it. I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Tony slams his locker shut. 

*

With blood pouring from his nose, Harry still manages to gargle out: “I’m straight, you dick!”

“Tony!” Peter cries in horror, rushing back to the booth. “What’s going on? Oh my god, Harry-“

Tony feels the world slipping out from under him. “I thought you were-“

“Oh fuck, it hurts! I think he broke my nose!”

“I don’t understand- someone call an ambulance! Tony, why are you even here?”

The words sound disgusting as he spits them out. “I followed you.”

Peter eyes are huge and astonished. “Why?”

“I thought…” He can’t say it. 

Peter gasps.

Tony doesn’t have to. 

*

Peter’s still in the band room after school, and Tony slips in silently, and just watches for a moment. Then he clears his throat. Peter jumps, before beaming at him. It’s a smile that makes you feel like the centre of the universe. 

“Why aren’t you going out with Barnes?”

Peter gapes, looking stunned, before scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tony, I couldn’t-“

“Why not?” He presses. “He’s handsome. He cares about you. You like each other.”

“Tony…”

“Pete.” Tony shakes his head. “Please, for the love of god, don’t think about me. Think about you. Do what makes you happy.”

Peter’s hazel eyes are swimming. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits after a long moment, and it stings Tony more than he’ll ever admit. 

“I have nothing to be hurt about. You’re my friend, Peter, and I only want you to be happy, okay? Do what makes you happy.”

Peter gives him a long look, before sniffling. “That’s really cool of you, Tony,” he whispers gratefully. 

Tony lets out a wet laugh, but has to admit that though it hurts- it feels a little good too. 

* 

“Alert, alert,” Nat whispers frantically, “incoming!”

Tony turns in his seat in the cafeteria, only to feel warm lips press against his own. 

Someone whoops.

“What makes me happy,” Peter whispers, once Tony’s returned to reality, “is you.”

Tony could fly. He gets up, cups Peter’s face in his, and grins. “Well then, I can only oblige. As a friend.”

“As a friend.” Peter giggles, and they kiss again. 

*

“Don’t be too upset about it,” Steve consoles Bucky in the corner of the cafeteria watching the couple kiss. “They’re kind of endgame.”

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “And who are you?”

“Steve Rogers. I play football.”

Bucky scoffs, but can’t stop himself from admiring the way Steve’s shirt clings to his chest. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Swimming”

Wrote this one from a couple of requests wanting to know what Sunny would think about swimming. Hope its at least something fun to read on a Tuesday :) 

Sunny had never seen so much blue before. The sky above and the water below stretching out to the horizon in all directions. The polar field in the sky above was a beautiful metallic rainbow that reflected off the water causing the entire planet to sparkle like a prism…..

It was terrifying.

Sunny had never seen so much water before. Of course their planet HAD water, it was sort of important when it came to life sustaining a planet, but most of it was in shallow rivers, and abandoned underground lava tubes and caverns. Most of her planet’s water was fed by underground springs, and the largest lake was located thousands of miles away on the other side of the planet meaning she had never actually seen it before.

Even those times she had visited earth, they had been located in the center of the landmass, and it barely occurred to her that the planet was almost 2/3s water. The humans seemed very excited about the entire thing, but as Krill had stated before, the vast majority of humans LOVED large bodies of water. She had no idea why, whether it was cultural or evolution that caused this, but it was sort of terrifying.

She found herself poised on the edge of lunging forward as her marines, and mostly Adam, leaned out precariously over the edge of the boat. She feared that the humans would fall in and drown or something and wished they would just relax, but there Adam was holding onto nothing more than a taut rope, feet braced against the side of the boat and leaning out over the water held up by a single hand. Wind whipped at his hair and shirt eyes closed and smiling.

She would generally have been glad to see that he was happy if he wasn’t hanging over a trillion gallons of liquid death.

Their boat cut a little right, and, in the distance, sunny could see a tall peak of rocks surrounded by a little beach that was no more than a football field all the way around. Clinging to  the rocks she could see some sort of strange colorful plant-life, but it was too far away to see at this point.

She spent the next few minutes trying to keep the marines from falling off the edge of the boat, which in the end only earned her some weird looks. Krill floated mildly at the front of the boat, and oddly enough it seemed as if he was more relaxed than she was.

In his case, she was worried that he was going to fly off the edge of the boat and end up sinking into the depths below, but luckily, they made it to the tiny island, and the human hopped off onto the sand. The scientists began taking their samples , the water, the sand, the strange plant life. When everything was cleared, predictably, humans began touching things, mostly picking up the sand and marveling at how soft it was.

She pointed out they had no idea what kind of dangerous things could be in there, but Adam, the commander, lying on his back in the sand looked up at her with a grin, “Nope,  not with the new protocol I made up. It's called the TISICTI for short, or for long the “Test it so I can touch it” protocol. Krill threw a fit enough times I thought it would be a good compromise.” He motioned towards the scientist, “What do you think we have them for.”

She frowned, “I sort of assumed they were here to do, you know, science and stuff. Like samples and testing and whatever else.”

The man shrugged, “I mean yes, but more importantly, they are here to make sure that we can safely touch things.” 

He leaned his head back against the sand with his eyes closed, “Honestly, this planet isn’t exactly of particular interest accept for the water and beaches. NO sentient lifeform owns it. The biggest creature are weird sort of whales, and most members of the GA don’t want anything to do with it, so here we are.” His single eye popped open, “Oh, that reminds me.” He stood from the sand and motioned to the marines, “Break out the cooler, and radio to the crew that the planet is non-toxic.” He rubbed his hands together with a grin, “Let's do this.” 

Sunny watched for the next few minutes in fascinated confusion as the humans, transformed the little beach into an island paradise. Colorful blankets and towels she wasn’t even aware the owned were laid out across the sand with large umbrellas staked into the sand against the sun. Big blue coolers of drinks and snacks were set out every few yards. And soon enough other members of the crew began to appear docking boats on the designated part of their little island.

Unlike the marines, these crew members were barely dressed, lugging more towels, and large dark glasses that helped them block out the sun.

Adam Jumped up on one of the coolers just as things were getting started whistling very loudly so that the group turned to look up at him, “Alright, a few rules before we get started. This is not our planet, and you know human history of taking care of oceans and shit. By the time we leave, I want to make sure it looks like we were never here. For every piece of trash I find on the beach or in the water after this is all over, you all are getting docked pay by a credit. Each  rock is to be thoroughly explored before you jump off. I don’t want anyone breaking their neck while out, and if anyone asks what we were doing today. You were performing reconnaissance for the suitability of human life. Got it.”

The humans let of a whoop of excitement, and Adam grinned, “Alright you crazy kids. The Mission starts now, and I expect a full report from every one of you once your done.”

Sunny had never seen an order followed so fast. Within the next few minutes humans were flrolicking in the water, and on the sand or simply lounging in the sun with their feet in the sand. The marines were relieved of their duty, and made quick time in removing all their gear exposing the fact they had expected something like this to happen. 

Maverick walked past Sunny down the beach wearing nothing more than what sunny would have considered underwear and a baseball cap. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was supposed to feel uncomfortable with that, but none of the humans seemed to mind. In fact, there was a significant number of humans who were wearing even less which hardly made sense since humans made physical privacy a very big issue.

Apparently here that didn’t count.

She turned up the beach Just in time to find Adam struggling to pull off his gear. The pants got stuck on his foot and he pitched into the sand with a laugh shaking his foot trying to squeeze out of the tactical gear. When he stood up he was wearing nothing more than shorts and was partially covered in sand.

Walking past Ramirez raised a hand, “Wow commander, put a shirt back on. I’m being blinded.”

Adam turned to look at him, “oh please Ramirez, you are just jealous of my stunning physique.” He flexed just then sending laughter up through close by members of the crew. 

Sunny looked between the two of them. Ramirez had a bigger chest and biceps, but she had to admit he may have skipped leg day a couple times. Adam clearly kept a schedule for his workouts. She would never have said it, to much a boost to his ego, but she would have given it to Adam 

Then again, maybe she was biased. 

However, Adam, and all the other marines had reason to brag if she knew anything about human physicality, so she decided to give all of them credit. 

Adam walked past her towards the water UV light reflecting in diamond colors off his skin. Invisible stripes, to humans, covered his body in an intricate and almost beautiful pattern of swirls and striations. Generally, human skin color would have never been considered beautiful to a Drev, but with the addition of the invisible patterns on their skin reflecting in rainbow colors to sunny’s vision, it was actually quite beautiful.

“Hey Sunny, you Coming?” 

She turned her head to follow him where he stood at the edge of the water, “I…. Into the water?” She stammered.

“Yeah, of course into the water.” He smiled, “That's the point of going to the beach.” 

Sunny took a step back and then shuffled her feet in the sand.

Adam tilted his head, “hey, what’s wrong.”

She rubbed the back of her head with an upper arm, a habit she had picked up from the humans. “Well…. I….”

“Do you….. Not know how to swim?” He wondered. Behind him Maverick went floating past on her back 

Sunny shook her head, “We…. don’t have large bodies of water on my planet.”

The man clapped himself on the forehead, “right, Right, I totally forgot. You know the GA classified our planet as Aquatic. Forget that that’s not normal.” He walked back up the beach feet slipping in the sand and then took her by the hands his one green eye reflecting the polar lines in the sky above.

“Come on. We’ll take it easy.” Still holding her hands, Sunny allowed him to lead her backwards down the beach towards the water, “You’ll be fine. I promise.” They had reached the edge of the water now, and with great apprehension sunny stepped into the water. 

It was warm.

“That;s it, just keep coming. The man urged, and she stepped a little deeper. The water reached to her knees now, and high on the human’s thighs. He kept leading her into the water, and in apprehension, she watched as the water line drew up her stomach and towards her chest. However, the human stopped at about his chest height, “See, not so bad is it.” She moved her lower arms around in the water marveling at the strange sensation.

The human kicked his feet up spread his arms out, and was suddenly floating on the surface of the water. He kicked a little bit with his legs swimming around her in a circle before letting his feet down again, “Time to see if you can float…. I’m almost thinking maybe not, but that’s ok because we have life jackets.”

He swam behind her taking her by the shoulders, “Ok, I just want you to lay back rise your feet and just let your arms hang out to the sides, I promise you won’t drown, and you can stand up at any time.”

Sunny nodded in apprehension but leaned her head back and kicked her feet up off the bottom. The human supported her weight from behind,and past the water she could feel his hands on her back. Water rushed against her ears muffling all noise around. He let his hands relax, and to her dismay, she began to sink, but just as she was beginning to feel panic, hands pushed her back to the surface and stood her back up. The human smiled at her then winked, which in his case was more of a blink, “Guess you're too dense, but that's ok.” he turned back towards the beach, “HEY RAMIREZ!”  

The human sat up on his beach towel and lowered his sunglasses, “What!” 

“Toss me some of those  water wing things right next to you, yeah.” Sunny watched in interest as four strange air filled rubber doughnuts were tossed to them. 

“Hold a second.” He said grabbing one of her arms and slipping It through the doughnut until it was high up on her arm. He did that three more times and then had her try the floating thing again. To her surprise, it worked, and though her feet sank, Adam’s instruction to lightly kick her feet helped to keep her lower half upwards in the water.

It was honestly kind of relaxing.

The human kept close by one hand on her arm.

Eventually she felt comfortable with letting him go. He showed her how humans swim openly admitting that he wasn’t the best at it. He knew freestyle and backstroke, which sort of just involved kicking your feet and pinwheeling your arms. Generally she was mostly just impressed on how fast the humans could swim when they clearly weren't meant for an aquatic environment.

She learned the hard way that humans could dive as well when Adam vanished under water for more than ten seconds and she began to panic. He popped up a few years to her left seconds later shaking water from his ears.

At one point she was floating on her back just relaxing when she felt something suddenly grab her leg.

She shrieked in panic and flailed about in fear. Then a body erupted from the water. Maverick peered at her through a set of dorky goggles spewing water through a tube connected to her mouth. She removed the tube and grinned at Sunny, “He he, almost pissed yourself right there.” Before Sunny could retort, the human vanished under water once again swimming away only to drag Adam underwater.

Sunny watched in worry thinking that she was trying to drown him, but apparently dunking someone was considered acceptable.

Eventually they moved closer to the beach, and they began a game with a brightly colored ball knocking it into the air and trying to keep it from touching the water Sunny was pretty good at the game, but wasn’t excited when she ended up falling and vanishing below the water. She almost freaked out before remembering she could stand coming up and spewing water from her nose. The humans laughed at her.

A few hours of that was followed by another few hours of lying in the sun on the sand. Adam requisitioned one of her arms as a pillow and ended up falling asleep in the humid warmth.

He eventually woke up when someone announces they had discovered a diving rock, and Sunny watched as Krill almost had a conniption when the humans began leaping from twenty feet up and into the water. Sunny almost followed his lead when the humans began doing tricks. Adam was the first, leaping outwards, and then pitching downwards face first hands held above his head. Sunny was sure he'd break his face doing something like that, but he came back up to a cheering crowd.

If that wasn’t bad enough they began doing flips after that rotating backwards and forwards and sideways attempting to spin as many times as possible. Yet none of them ever seemed to get hurt upon doing this. 

One of the human lab technicians managed two flips which turned into a dive, and it turned out she had been a competitive diver at university. That thought worried sunny because that meant there were humans out there who flipped themselves around off of high places just to look cool, and they did it for a living.

“Hey Ramirez, dare you to do a belly flop.” Adam said in passing to the other man.

Ramirez look up at the rock.

The rest of the group began chanting. Sunny did not like the sound of this, but the man shrugged and began climbing. The group began to scream and chant as he made it to the top of the rock. 

Krill ran up just then, “Ok that’s it. Stop right there.”

Sunny looked down at him, mostly ignored, “What are they doing.”

“I don’t know,but when humans start chanting, it’s never good.” Ramirez took a step back and then leaped forward spreading his arms out wide to either side chest downwards. 

The slap he made upon hitting the water was tremendous. Sunny winced and Krill cursed. The humans waited for a long moment staring at the water, but then Ramirez broke the surface gasping and the humans began to cheer.

He got a serious lecture fromKrill upon crawling onto land, his entire chest, legs, thighs and the side of his face one bright red welt.

Eventually she convinced Adam to stop by dragging him back out into the water. This time he appropriated a strange floating object in bright pink, and together they floated just off the beach using the pink thing as some weird sort of water cushion. 

Sunny had no idea where humans came up with these ideas. 

I was when the clouds started gathering in the distance that the humans decided now would be a good time to leave. They packed up all their things in record time and Adam had them comb the beach several times before allowing them to leave. Te shuttles reached atmosphere just as the massive hurricane passed below them. It was many miles wide, and radar detected that the surface winds were somewhere around two hundred miles an hour.

To say that Krill was not amused would have been a massive understatement.

Still though, the day had been fun.

She couldn't think of a better day in living memory. 

[lesbianlovelanguage]

Origin of Love

I heard it’s someone’s birthday, so I wrote a thing for @yikesharringrove. I remember seeing that you really liked Origin of Love from Hedwig, and considering it’s one of my favorite songs too I thought this would be a cool take. I hope you like it!!! 

Read it below or on ao3 here.

*****

Steve had always been clumsy. No one could figure out why, but it was like he was missing half of his body somehow. He fumbled footballs so much they kicked him off the team and had perpetually bruised knees from falling over nothing. At first it was cute, how clumsy little Stevie was, but after the age of 9 his parents started to be concerned. They went to the doctors, but there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him, he was just clumsy. He was supposed to grow out of it.

Middle school was rough to say the least, kids calling him Spaz Steve and purposely tripping him at the worst moments. Now, not only were his knees bruised but his elbows, back, shins, and chest from falling or being bashed into lockers.

He finally got away from it freshman year of high school, when he proved to be amazing at keg stands, adopted the new title of King Steve proudly, and found he was able to focus enough to not do anything too clumsy during school hours. It did mean his grades suffered a little, but once he scored a place on the basketball team and started rising in popularity, his father forgot all about the mediocre grades. He eventually forgot about his son altogether. But who needed parents when instead he could have parties and booze and any high school chic he wanted? He was living it up as King Steve, and life was good.

And then Billy came to town.

Billy Hargrove was cocky and arrogant beyond belief, but it wasn’t his attitude that stopped Steve dead in his tracks during basketball practice two days after Billy’s arrival to Hawkins. They were playing shirts and skins, and without a care in the world, Billy ripped off his shirt. Along with revealing miles of tanned skin and firm muscles, Steve saw a faded red mark right above Billy’s navel that seemed to resemble the sun. While it wouldn’t seem unusual to anyone else, Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from the little red splotch. That is, until he heard Tommy’s hyena cackle in his ear and felt someone slam into him from behind.

He fell onto his knees, holding out his palms to stop the fall, before looking back behind him to see Tommy winking at Billy.

When the hell had they become friends?

Steve waited for Tommy to walk away and then stood up, brushed his hands off on his gym shorts, and headed to the opposite side of the gymnasium. The rest of practice passed without another incident, and Steve was able to duck into the locker room before any of the other guys in his class. He was on his way out of the shower when he caught sight of Billy’s mark again. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough for him to confirm that it looked exactly like his own mark right above his navel.

He didn’t have time, or really the brain capacity, to fully think about what their shared sun mark could mean at that moment though. He had a girlfriend to calm down after what had been a truly disastrous dinner with Barb’s parents. Steve still wasn’t really sure what had set Nancy off, but he knew she had left even more distraught about Barb’s death than she had been before visiting. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride home, hadn’t even looked at him. She was distant and cold all day, but during lunch he had gotten her to agree to a study date at the library.

It seemed to help, he got her to agree to the halloween party at least. One night of being a normal teenager.

-

The halloween party had been nothing less than a disaster . Not only would he never be able to unhear Nancy say he was bullshit, and that everything about them was bullshit, but he had to deal with Billy fucking Hargrove again.

He had successfully avoided thinking about their shared sun mark right up until he couldn’t possibly ignore it anymore. Until Billy Fucking Hargrove was standing above where he sat on the curb outside Tina's house, no shirt and opened jacket, absolutely reeking of cheap beer and expensive cologne.

“King Steve!” He was slurring his words, not to the point Nancy had been at but enough to let Steve know this was not sober Billy talking. “How’d you fall so far, Pretty Boy?”

“Fuck off Hargrove. I don’t need your machismo act tonight, I’ve had enough bullshit thrown my way already.” The word felt like chalk in his mouth, practically choking him as he spit it out. Billy just chuckled and plopped down next to Steve on the curb. “Don’t act like that, Stevie Baby. I’ve seen you eyeing me up, just wanted to see if you were interested in more than just undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re delusional. I have a girlfriend.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned back on his palms. “Pretty sure I saw your girlfriend walking out of the party and into the car of another man. Tough break though.”

Steve saw red, stood up and glared down at the drunk blond below. “I don’t need this shit, especially from you. You look like a drowned rat, buddy.” He threw over his shoulder a quick and snarky, “Have fun with that hangover tomorrow,” and walked to his car.

-

Sleep was difficult that night. Not only did it take forever to actually fall asleep, but once he was unconscious he had the weirdest dreams.

What started as possibly jumps through time, all centered around the same brunette and blond who both looked startlingly familiar, ended with a truly bizarre scene.

Steve was standing in an empty rock land, mountain peaks in the distance and the sky lit aflame from the brilliant sunset. He felt oddly at peace, felt as if some empty part of him was filled finally. It wasn’t until he went to go exploring the empty world he was in that he noticed he was larger, with two more arms and legs. Again though, looking at the extra legs and arms felt natural and whole.

“Where we going, Pretty Boy?” came a voice from behind him, but it also seemed to come from within him. Without consciously deciding to speak, he responded.

“Anywhere we want Billy Babe.”

As they were roaming the land, Steve wondered at the peace he was feeling, and the beauty of the sunset above him. But just as he felt the calm settle into his bones, a great sense of panic overwhelmed him, and a giant flash of light shattered the sunset.

And then all Steve knew was agony as the lightning split him right down the middle, leaving him panting and staring down at his two hands and feet. The peace, the calm, the whole feeling he had gotten to expect had been ripped away from him, left him groaning and gripping at his stomach where the pain seemed to center. He looked down to see a sun shaped scar, pink and raised and fresh.

His head shot up and he frantically searched the area around him. There, sprawled about five feet away from him, was a prone figure staring up at the sky. Some deep part of him, right behind the new scar, reached out and out towards the figure, pulled Steve towards the man. It was his other half, the half that had been so crudely ripped from him, now separated and too distant. Once Steve arrived next to the man, he fell to his knees and began to weep. Through his tears he could only make out the curls of blond hair and bright blue eyes stare at him, hands moving closer before tugging Steve into a firm chest where he curled up and wept until his tears dried out. Once his sobs quieted down, he could hear the soft voice whispering comforting words into his hair. Steve looked up from where he had buried his face, and saw Billy look down at him with the most tragic expression clouding his face.

Just as they bent together to share a tear stained kiss, rain began to pour from the heavens and wind whipped around them. Steve was blown from Billy’s lap almost instantly, and as the rain grew thicker he couldn’t see his lover anymore, could barely see his own hand.

He lost him. His lover, his other half, his soulmate. Gone, lost to the storm.

Steve shot up in his bed, sheets pooling around his waist and skin clammy. He was panting harsh, and his hand flew up to grip at his sun mark so tight it almost hurt, just as it did when we were ripped apart.  

But it was just a dream.

Right?

-

Steve didn’t get anymore sleep that night, plagued with a sense of restlessness and the carnal need to see Billy again. The hours between when he had jerked awake to when he would head to school seemed to pass rapidly and achingly slow. By the time his BMW pulled into the school parking lot, he was a mess fueled only by anxiety and a crushed granola bar he forced himself to eat.

But the blue Camaro was glaringly absent amongst the plain sea of beige and silver beater cars. Billy wasn’t there.

The school day passed in a blur, and practice was sure to be the same. Steve headed onto the court in a daze, head foggy until he looked up to see Billy dribbling a ball and wagging his tongue at the girls in the bleachers. It was as if the storm had passed, and that strange sense of wholeness and peace that Steve had felt in the dream washed over him again at the sight of the California Rat King.

And then he was promptly reminded of Billy’s attitude problem.

He was a monster on the court, managing to knock people over without getting fouled and snatch balls from even the best offensive players. Despite posing a threat, Steve couldn’t help but being a subtle tease. For some reason, he felt sturdy and more centered around Billy, and he used the focus he would have had to dedicate to staying balanced and applied it to some simple tricks he had seen from NBA games. He was headed straight for the basket when Billy met him straight on. Steve felt the press of a sweaty, sculpted torso press against him and hot breathe blow into his ear.

“Hey Pretty Boy. Harrington right? Used to run this school before turning bitch for an ice princess?”

Steve couldn’t believe he was getting this shit again.

“Why don’t you just shut up and play the game?” He panted. Instead of a verbal response, Billy snached the ball and drove through to score another basket for his team. He turned around to wag his tongue at Steve this time, but before they could go at it again, there came a quiet “Steve?” from the corner of the gym, and he had to go deal with the other headache in his life.

-

He skipped the rest of practice. After finding out Nancy remembered nothing of last night, he couldn’t stand the thought of facing Billy and his wagging tongue anymore. He needed sleep.

Apparently the coach had the same idea of ending practice early though, because halfway through his shower, the other guys on the team funneled into the locker room, with Billy leading the pack. He was standing at his locker, fiddling with the lock, when Steve walked over to get dressed.

“Awe, leaving already Pretty Boy?” He leered, eyes slowly rolling down Steve’s body, leaving a tingling hot path in their wake, all the way down to the red mark right above Steve’s navel. He could pinpoint the exact moment blue eyes met red lines by their widening size, and Billy’s jaw beginning to work overtime, like he was chewing on some leather. He clearly recognized it as an exact match to the one adorning his own body, and he knew exactly what it meant, probably knew more than Steve from the face he was making.

Steve barely opened his mouth to comment, ask a question, anything to prove it wasn’t all in his head, before Billy abruptly slammed his locker door and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the locker room still dressed in his workout clothes and sweat leaving his hair matted and sticking to his neck.

Steve almost fell over in his rush to get dressed and follow after Billy. He practically sprinted out to the parking lot just in time to see Billy pull open the door of his Camaro. In a last ditch effort, Steve jumped in front of the Camaro as Billy turned the key and made the engine roar.

“Out of my way Harrington,” he yelled out of the driver side window, where he had popped his head out.

Steve shook his head and shouted back, “I just want answers Billy. What is this?”  He angrily raised his shirt just enough to make Billy bear witness to the mark again. Sighing, he pulled his head back inside the car and rubbed his eyebrows for a moment. Steve took the opportunity for what it was and walked around to the side of the car.

“Fine. Quarry, 6 o’clock. Don’t be late Pretty Boy,” and with that Billy pressed his foot on the gas and zoomed out of the parking lot.

-

Steve was going to go to the quarry, but he had to make one stop beforehand. He needed to break up with Nancy, felt the urge deep in his bones that it had been headed south for a long time and last night was just the breaking point. But stopping in front of the Wheeler’s somehow ended up with him and Dustin searching for a lizard, and then a whirlwind of Oh Shit, the Upside Down is back.

It all led to him, camped out at the Byers’ house with a pack of angry little brats trying to convince him to do some more dangerous shit, as if almost becoming alien chow at the junkyard wasn’t enough. He was going toe to toe with Nancy’s little brother when the random red head jumped away from the front window to say that her brother was headed down the driveway, and he was gonna kill them. Her claim was backed by a   familiar engine revving in the driveway.

Billy Hargrove was here.

Steve calmed the brats down and then slowly walked out the front door, closing it quickly behind him.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?”

“Yeah it's me, don’t cream your pants.” Billy huffed out a laugh and dropped his half-smoked cigarette to take off his leather jacket.

“Something doesn’t sit right Pretty Boy,” he said as he stalked across the yard towards the house, “You miss our date, my sister goes missing, and you all wind up here? Gives me the heebie jeebies man.”

“Sorry Bil, don’t know what to tell you. Shit happens.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, trying to play off how annoyed at himself he was for missing the chance to get his questions answered. Like hell he was getting answers now. Billy was right in front of him now, silver necklace glinting in the full moonlight. He swore he could even hear Billy growl before he replied.

“That’s not good enough. What’s my shitbird sister doing here with you? What’s going on Harrington, and don’t make me ask again.”

“Well, I’m babysitting the Byers kid and your sister isn’t here. Just me and a little kid, none of your concern.”

Billy pulled out his Marlboro pack and stuck one between his lips before looking up and locking eyes with Steve.

“Then who,” he said, pausing to light the cigarette, “is that.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and used it to gesture at the front window where a flash of red hair was disappearing behind the curtains.

Fucking hell.  

Left grasping for straws, Steve wasn’t prepared for the fist that came sailing towards his face. He fell to the ground in a heap, and by the time he was able to untangle, Billy was already in the house and yelling at the kids.

Fuck their connection. No one threatened Steve’s kids.

He ran back into the house to witness Billy push Lucas up against the wall of the living room. Just before he could punch the frightened kid, Steve tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, Steve socked him in the jaw and sent him tumbling into the kitchen. He recovered quickly though, and they were quickly locked in a wrestling match that only stopped when Billy reached out for stability and flung open the fridge door.

Out tumbled a dead demi-whatever, right on top of Billy’s chest. He didn’t scream, but it was a close call. Steve rushed over and pushed the dead thing off of him. He reached out a hand to help Billy up, and once they were both upright, Billy actually did growl.

“Answers. Now.” Steve nodded along before ducking closer to Billy and whispering his response.

“Okay, sure. But first, we make a deal. I’ll tell you what’s going on here if you tell me what this,” he gestured to Billy's mark, which was on display under his opened shirt, ''means and why we both have one. Got it?”

“Fine.” Billy nodded and then moved to sit on the couch. “Explain it to me.”

-

After a full crash course in what was going on, including what they had all been arguing about prior to Billy’s arrival, his only response was to stand up and head toward the front door. When he got to the door though, he looked over his shoulder.

“Well, are we going or not?”

-

They did it. They fucking did it. The Gate was closed and the Upside Down banished for good.

The tunnels had been pure nightmare fuel, but somehow Steve knew it would have been worse if Billy hadn’t gone with. Whether it was because of their strange connection, or it was simply because he had another grown human with him, Steve was nothing short of grateful for the support.

After returning to the Byers’ house, Steve and Billy and the kids waited anxiously to hear from the others. Slowly, everyone mixed up in the Upside Down mess returned back to the Byers’ home, and once everyone was confirmed safe and the sun was beginning to rise, they dispersed. Steve dropped off Lucas and Dustin, and then went to the quarry. It felt like the better option, than going home to a cold and empty house.

He had parked the BMW and gotten out to sit on the hood of his car not very long before the rumble of another engine grew closer. A blue camaro pulled up right next to his car and parked, the absence of the engine and music that had been screaming from the windows was deafening in its silence, and Steve watched with a mix of nerves and anticipation as Billy climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked up to the hood of the Camaro and fiddled with his lighter for a few moments.

“I think I, uh, I made you a deal Pretty Boy. Answers for answers and all that shit.” He sighed and finally lit his cigarette. Steve let him get in a puff before responding.

“Yeah, I just thought you might know more about the,” he had to cough before finishing his sentence, the awkwardness of the encounter starting to get to him, “the mark thingie,” he finished lamely.

“What do you know?”

“Not much. I guess. He started listing on his fingers, “I know that we both have identical marks in the same place somehow, I’ve had mine since birth so I figure you had yours forever too?” He waited for Billy to nod before continuing. “I also had this, um, this dream? About, uh, us?”

“Oh, yeah? Dreaming about me already, Bambi? Was it fun? What were you wearing?” Steve instantly flushed and started sputtering, trying to form a reply. Billy’s smirk grew bigger the more Steve fumbled for a response.

“Not that kind of dream Hargrove.” Steve finally answered. He paused and then added, quieter, “Not exactly I mean.”

“I’m sure it was, Pretty Boy. What was the dream about?”

“It was us, kind of? Like they looked like us, and it was like we were mashed together until we weren’t and then I lost you in a storm.” Steve was expecting teasing or maybe another punch to the face, but instead Billy let out a sharp bark of laughter before doubling over and pushing the heel of his palms into his eyes, the cherry of the cigarette shockingly close to his golden mane.

“You okay there Hargrove? You look a little…” Steve trailed off, unsure how exactly to describe Billy’s appearance.

“A little freaked? A little fucking scared? What is it Harrington? I look a little what over the fact that my fucking soulmate is a dude and my dad is the biggest fuckhead? This is fucking bullshit man.” Billy’s voice slowly rose until he was screaming the last sentence.

Where did Steve even begin processing what had just happened? It was full of landmines, from being fucking soulmates to Billy having serious daddy problems. He decided to focus on their joint issues.

“What do you mean, soulmates?” Billy’s head shot up and he pushed off the Camaro hood to come stand directly in front of where Steve was sitting crossed leg on the hood, hands on either side of his lap and face close enough for Steve to count the light freckles spattered across Billy’s nose.

“I think you know exactly what I mean Pretty Boy. Soulmates, destined to be together, forever entwined, that kind of shit.”

“And you know so much about this because…”

“It ran in my mom’s family. It's like a genetic thing or some shit. Listen, all she told me is that I would meet someone one day who had the same mark as me and would share my dreams.” Billy took an aggressive drag of the cigarette before continuing. “Take a wild guess of what I dreamed about Princess.”

“Me?” Steve squeaked out.

“Bingo amigo. Spot on.”

“So, so what? We’re soulmates or whatever. What does that mean? ” Steve pushed. Why did he feel pulled towards Billy, why did he feel so settled?

“It means jackshit, Harrington. Just forget about it okay?” Billy started to pull away, and something inside Steve flinched at the thought. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand shot out and fisted in the other boy’s shirt, yanking him back into place.

“Not a chance, Hargrove,” Steve whispered before continuing to follow his instincts. He flicked one last glance at blue eyes before focusing on plush lips and leaning in.

Their first kiss was a firestorm, filled with heat and rage and passion. Billy ran his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip and Steve tangled his hands in golden curls to hold Billy that much closer. They only broke apart because Billy tugged at Steve’s beltloops and accidentely pulled him off the fucking car.

They both landed in a heap in between the two cars, Steve on top of Billy and giggling up a storm. He was high on endorphins, and for some reason found himself working a hand down Billy’s body to find the sun mark that started this all.

As soon as his fingers grazed the edge of the sun, he felt a rush of heat and love and want shoot through him and Billy let out a broken moan. The heat was starting to overtake everything, the overwhelming need to be as close to Billy as possible, but once again Billy proved to be stronger than this soul bond thing they had. He ripped himself away from Steve, not very far but just enough for the haze of need to dissipate a little. The absence left both boys panting, breath intermingling and foreheads touching.

“Holy fuck,” was the most eloquent thing Steve could think of to surmize the feelings he had just experienced. Billy hummed in agreeance, leaning in to nip once more at Steve’s swollen lips before pulling away fully and standing up. He pulled Steve up and into his space again. They looked at each other for a minute, just taking in the moment as Billy held onto Steve’s biceps and Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s torso.

“I am never forgetting this.” Steve whispered finally, and Billy chuckled before shaking his head.

“No, Bambi, I don’t think I will either.”

[stusbunker]

What Lingers Within: Three

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Past Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace​

Word Count: 2316

Amazing Beta’ing by: @itmighthavebeenintentional​

Aesthetic and preread by @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Summary: Sam and Dean leave the reader in capable hands, but she doesn’t stay put.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

               Dean was waiting for Sam to tell him to leave. They sat in the living room nursing beers and zoning out to a college football game. Her cousin, Michelle, remembered him, barely, but it helped establish a nearly tenable foothold into her life. Their hostess left them to check on her before calling it a night.

        They were completely out of their element now. Dean felt Sam’s discomfort like he felt the pull to her side, each their own piece of himself: empathy and reflex. But Sam held his tongue and for that Dean was grateful.

        Unceremoniously, they crashed on the coaches, backs protesting all the while. Soon Sam’s snores muted the peaceful country noises. Dean couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to. She was so close he could almost smell her and yet he felt farther from her than he had since the day he had set her free.

        He just needed to make sure she was settled, able to ward off your run-of-the-mill monsters and then they’d be off.  Never to darken her doorstep again. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

*^*^*^*^

        Her little second floor walk up was shabby enough to be affordable and out of the way enough to be secure. The peeling white paint seemed to collect with each trip up the back steps. Dean brushed the remnants off the landing with the side of his boot as he knocked. He gave her a minute before bending down and snagging the spare key beneath the cracked planter, the dahlias had started to wilt with the autumn nights, but he knew she wasn’t going to scrap them yet. The old lock protested the force he used but gave in soon enough.

        He called out, finding her bag by the door, but little else to indicate she was home. That old familiar panic started to creep in as he came upon the abandoned living/dining room.

        “Honey? You home?” he sing-songed. “It’s me. I left Sammy at Bobby’s, hoping you’d--,” he broke off as he saw her bedroom door open a crack. “Have some time off.”

         He tapped the door wider, peaking around the frame. That’s when he spotted her, feet hanging off the end of the bed, shoes still on. She was drooling face down, pillow held tight in her arms with one of his old flannels spread out over the pillowcase, cradling her cheek.

         His breath caught in his chest, it felt like he was seeing something that wasn’t yet meant for him. A gift he had to wait to unwrap, but how he itched to. The way her lashes landed on her rounded cheeks; her lips open with the peaceful rhythm of her breath. Steady and serene. How’d he get so lucky?

         With practiced care, Dean slipped her shoes off her feet, setting them down so as not to wake her. Then he shrugged out of his jacket, since she was pinning all her blankets beneath her, and draped the heavy canvas over her torso. As quietly as he found her, he let her be, busying himself in the kitchen while she rested.

        She rushed out of the bedroom with his jacket an hour later, voice cracking in excitement. Dean thought his heart couldn’t stand much more aching fullness. She threw herself against his chest, smashing his ass against the edge of the counter as she scaled him like a tree. He’d craved how she used her whole body to love him, never dainty or timid. Before he could mention dinner, she was stripping him right there against the laminate.

        That was the day she gave him his own key.

^*^*^

               You woke up to an actual rooster crow, which was deceptively before sunrise. The wooden floorboards, worn and frigid beneath your feet. After creeping down the stairs to the bathroom you decided to poke around for some coffee. Overly aware that Dean and Sam were only a breakfast table away from your early morning sneaking about; you tried to be as quiet as possible. It didn’t work.

               “Hey---what are you trying to do?” Dean stage whispered over the edge of the couch. His hair fluffed at an angle and his face scrunched against the brightening day. You hated how cute he looked in that moment and replied justly.

               “Making coffee, butt out.”

               He licked his lips and cocked his head. “It’s in the pantry. Michelle gave me the heads up, figured I’d be up first.”

               Right, of course she did. You didn’t reply but stormed over to the sliding door off the kitchen and whipped it open, hundred-year-old tracks be damned. You woke Sam and didn’t bother feeling bad about it. He was involved with this fuckery too. Now that everyone in the direct vicinity was up and glaring at each other; the coffee took no time to brew. You let them serve themselves as you sat on the far end of the table, staring into the hazy morning across the hills to the east. You had a speech rehearsed, though now were too annoyed with their stupid faces to converse with them civilly. Instead, you stewed.

               Naturally, Dean sat down next to you, shoulders hunched over his coffee, toeing the line of being in your bubble. He still smelled like the leather of the car, maybe it was just his scent. You tried not to think about how soothing it was and took a long pull from your mug to stop yourself from letting go of your anger.

               “I almost forgot you’re less of a morning person than me,” Dean said as if to himself, the smirk evident in his words.

               “Yeah, well, it must be nice to know so much about me. Some of us don’t have the luxury,” you snipped, pulling your knees to your chest as you balanced against the back of the old chair.

               Dean sat back, turning his entire body to yours. “Fair enough. What else do you want me to say? I’ve apologized.”

               Your head snapped up, eyes boring into his earnest gaze. “I want you to fix me. My memories. I want it all back, Dean.”

               Sam cleared his throat. “I’m not sure that’s possible. Cas, the angels, none of them are like they used to be.”

               “He should at least try and call him,” you said to Sam pointedly about Dean.

               “Oh? He should, should he?!” Dean bit back. You hugged your knees tighter and glared at him, but something slowly unraveled within, as if he was a forgotten language you were deciphering. He was willing you to understand. You felt his frustration and his annoyance with you and himself, it came off him in waves. It felt so close to how you felt that you didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at him. God it was like he was inside your head, feelings that in tune came from somewhere, somewhere bone deep.

               “You need to stop looking at me like that,” you whispered, collecting the hair on top of your head into a rushed ponytail. “It’s too familiar.”

               “Like what?” Dean tried to brush it off.

               “Like that,” Sam agreed. Dean pursed his lips and gave Sam the stink eye. “Look, I’ll call Cas. But we are going to head out, let you get back to your life. Michelle said you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

               “Right.” Dean stood, pushing in his chair. He dug in his inside pocket for a card. “Look, if anything comes up or Cas doesn’t show in the next few days--- call me. I put Sam’s number on there too, just in case. In the meantime--- keep salt with you and uh, maybe brush up on your exorcisms.”

               You laughed mirthlessly until you realized he was serious. You swallowed, feeling his fingers brush against yours as you plucked the tiny card from his outstretched hand.

               “Tell me you’re going to be alright,” Dean whispered, looking at you through the lush foliage of his lashes.

               “Only if you can say the same,” you challenged, climbing to your feet. Dean shook his head and rubbed his lips. “Don’t think about disappearing for good. We’ve got beef now, buddy.” You pointed at his chest vehemently with his card.

               “Is that what it is? Awesome, really needed another nemesis, didn't we, Sammy?” Dean looked over his shoulder to realize that his brother had left you two alone, again. The infectious grin softened as he caught up to what lay under all your bravado.

               “Go on, I’ll be fine.” You rubbed your upper arms against the drafty kitchen. Dean didn’t say anything, he simply leaned down, lips barely a breath against your temple. Just when you didn’t think you could keep from touching him, he was gone, turning out of the kitchen and through the mudroom. Minutes later the rumble of the Impala disappeared over the hills. He hadn’t looked back.

^*^*^

               Three days at your cousin Michelle’s, and you were already itching for the city. No word from the angel meant you were slowly going out of your mind with boredom. Eventually, you came to the decision to clean out your cubicle. You wouldn’t face the constant scrutiny from your coworkers after everything that had happened from Chase’s death to Katelyn’s arrest at your apartment. One last rodeo and you’d be able to move on. Again. Always moving passed one hurtle or another, never stable, constantly in flux.

               Nervously, you climbed into the passenger seat of the old pick up. It had been years since you’d been to the farmhouse, since before your aunt and uncle had become snowbirds, leaving it to Michelle. But you knew every dip in the road out of the valley, the grooves in the earth held more pieces of your past than your mind seemed to anymore.

               “You gonna call him?” Michelle asked, overly casually.

               “I’m gonna give his buddy another day or so and then--- maybe?” You landed heavy on your own doubt.

               “He seemed like he misses you,” she added gently, not taking her eyes off the road.

               “Yeah, well, that sounds like it was his choice,” you tried to be flippant. Neither of you bought it.

               “Still, couldn’t hurt, especially after the last one,” Michelle kept digging.

               “I’m positive it still would hurt, Chelle,” you shifted, throwing your feet on the dashboard and leaning against the quilt covered bench seat.

               “His brother single?” Michelle tried to mask the tease in her tone.

               You couldn’t hold back the chuckle at her change of topic. “Do you want me to call him for you?”

               “He like older women? I’ve gotta have ten years on that one,” she shrugged, half considering it.

               “Couldn’t hurt,” you threw back, the mood salvaged as the truck crawled into the thick lines of traffic.

               It was just before quitting time when you arrived at work, stopping first by the copy room for a spare box to clear off your desk. You stacked the remaining reams of paper onto another box when you heard a dramatic gasp.

               “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Oh my god, how are you doing? We heard what happened, or some of it. Can you believe they let her out on bail? Not even twelve hours and she was free as a bird,” Gracie had yet to pause for air.

               “I’m sorry, what?” You interrupted.

               “Yeah, Katelyn’s out. Something about evidence tampering or false statements from someone they couldn’t locate after the fact?” She looked apologetic; it wasn’t enough. Everything in your stomach seemed to plummet to the floor.

               “Have you seen her? Has she been back?” You tried to remain calm, it didn’t work.

               “What? No! God, that’d be rich if she showed up here. I think the upper ups were notified and then it kind of spread like wildfire. Roy is filling in this week until they bring somebody in from another branch.”

               “Roy? The DM?” You felt ill.

               “Yeah? Who else, I mean, no one else has access to everything Katelyn did,” Gracie said it like you were an idiot. There was only one person Katelyn would have done what she did for, and he was sitting in the office on the other side of the wall. You had to get out of there before he saw you.

               “Look, do me a favor? Don’t mention I was here? It was just too soon, ya know?” You tossed the empty box back onto the stack. You eyed the doorway and tried to make a quick exit strategy.

               “You’re kidding? You just got here. Everyone wants to see you!” Gracie insisted.

               “Yeah, about that--- don’t really want to be the center of attention. Or cause for alarm. Just, give me like ten minutes and you can tell anyone anything. Deal?” Your eyes kept darting about the space, hoping to make it clear of the large open plan office before anyone else saw you.

               “I guess--- Wait! You’re scared, aren’t you? What’s the matter?” Gracie stepped closer and did a terrible job whispering. “Is it Roy?”

               “Gracie, listen. I’ve had a terrible week. I can’t right now,” you gave up and just walked away, head down, slinking around the bend for the exit. The same door you stepped out of to find Chase’s bloody body a week before. The yellow tape was still fluttering in place as you booked it down the alleyway, away from your office. Just before you made it back to the street, your phone buzzed.

              >Everything alright? It was Michelle. 

You exhaled in relief and rounded the mouth of the alley to meet her out front. Before you made it to the corner, a grating voice called your name. Katelyn. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, but as you contemplated ignoring her, a shadow stepped into your path. A heavy hand fell over your mouth before you could scream.

^*^*^

General Tags: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008​ @princessofthefandomrealm​                              @wingedcatninja​​

Series Tags: @tiggytaylor​​  @vicmc624​

^*^*^

Read On: Chapter Four

[madamebaggio]

EVERYDAY DISCOVERING SOMETHING BRAND NEW - JonSa Modern AU

Summary: Jon and Sansa have been leaving together for seven months and they're great friends.

Best friends.

Even if Jon is completely in love with her. Not that he's about to tell her. He isn't.

Then Ed Sheeran came and ruined Jon's life.

Or: Sansa loves "Shape of You", Jon just loves her shape.

***

Notes: This is a one-shot, that can also be found here.

***

Jon Snow was a simple guy; he didn’t need much to be content. He loved his job, his apartment, his dog and the friends he had.

He was perfectly happy to stay home and watch a movie or football, but he was also fine with meeting his friends on a pub for a pint.

Probably this simplicity was the reason for Jon’s calm. Now, he was no pushover, but he was the type of man that acted with calm and restrain on most situations. Jon’s self-control was legendary. He never started a fight, and he didn’t encourage them. He was the guy asking everyone to calm the fuck down.

However, Jon felt like his self-control was close to over and done with.

The reason?

Sansa Fucking Stark.

Now, on his normal days, Jon could take a deep breath and explain the story calmly: he was best friends with Sansa’s older brother; Robb. He practically grew up inside the Stark’s house, and he had a great relationship with the younger kids as well.

Not Sansa, though.

She’d been aloof even as a little girl. By the time she hit high school, she was way to cool to hang around most guys, especially awkward loners like Jon. She was a bit of a bitch back then, but it was okay. Jon had been annoyingly emo during those years and Bran had been half vegetarian. Things are weird during high school.

After he moved from Winterfell he didn’t expect to see Sansa all that much. She’d moved to King’s Landing to pursue a life of glamour and Jon was -as stated before -a simple person.

He kept in touch with Robb, Bran and Arya, and time passed.

Then, one day, he was talking to Robb about his flatmate Sam, who’d married and left him all alone with rent.

That was when Robb had uttered the fatidic words; “You’re looking for a flatmate? Would you live with Sansa?”

Apparently, she’d had some kind of problem in the South and was moving away from it.

(It took Jon three months, but eventually he managed to get the story from her, and it took all of his self-control not to go South and kill Joffrey.)

At the time Jon had been unable to say “no”. It was Sansa, Robb’s precious little sister. Sure, they’d never been close when they were young, but he could remember the sweet girl that would occasionally ask him to play with her and her Barbies, or steal her a lemon cake from the kitchen, because he could reach the counter and she couldn’t.

Of course, he’d said “yes”, even though he was a bit fearful of this arrangement.

At the beginning, it was… Hard. Sansa wasn’t the girl he remembered; she was quieter, closed off, even a bit scared.

Even though she was his flatmate and they shared every single bill, she acted like she was a guest around the apartment; asking permission to do everything, even painting the walls of her own room.

Jon learned he had to be careful with her. Some days, when he was really tired from work, and she’d come around asking if she could use the blender, he almost wanted to snap at her and say of course she could, she lived there!

But he could see it in her eyes: she was scared that this was exactly what he’d do. Because that was what she’d been living with: an abusive person. She was healing, and Jon snapping at her over something like that, just because he was tired, would be the worst thing possible. So Jon was patient and calm with her until she started to feel more and more comfortable.

Which brings Jon back to his quickly fraying self-control.

After seven months living together -yes, seven months – they’d become friends. Very good friends, actually. They had rituals -footballs matches with beer and Chinese food every Thursday. They talked about anything and everything. Sansa teased Jon about his glasses and he teased her about her strange fixation with unicorns. She cuddled and spoiled Ghost so much, the huge dog was starting to think he was a lap dog.

He’d stopped cringing when he saw a tampon box and started making her hot chocolate when she was on her period -she had terrible cramps. She fixed the buttons of his shirts, and mended that one ancient t-shirt he insisted on keeping around.

They cooked dinner together, watched tv together, went grocery shopping together… They were nauseatingly domestic -Theon’s words.

And some might ask, “What’s wrong with that?”

Well, many things, actually.

And it wasn’t the tampons or the unicorns, or even the dozen coats by the entrance door. Nope. It was the dancing. And the shorts.

Mostly the shorts.

The thing was: once Sansa became more comfortable around the house, he’d see her humming and singing along songs that were in her head. Then she started dancing.

And Sansa Stark didn’t do silly, half-assed dances. Oh no. Even her little dances around the houses were…

Jon would rather not think about the word. It’d only make it worse.

Then, there were the shorts. Sansa had a bunch of those. They were really short shorts. Or maybe her legs were just that long.

And the combination of shorts and dancing?

Yes, Jon was in trouble.

If it was only that -the fact that she was too hot to handle -maybe Jon’s self-control would be fine; but it wasn’t. Sansa was whip smart, amazingly kind and sweet. She had a secret dorky side that was cute as hell. Her smile could light up the room and Jon was helpless every time he saw it.

He as fucking whipped.

The thing was… This was Sansa; Robb’s precious little sister. She was also his flatmate and friend. He might be crazy about her -not just the shorts and the dancing, but her -but some things weren’t meant to be and he was fine with that.

He was.

Really.

Ed Sheeran ruined his life.

Well… Actually, Jon wasn’t so sure about that. He had a love-hate relationship with that fucking song and how much Sansa loved it.

Pros: Sansa dancing to it.

Cons: Sansa dancing to it.

There were no winners on this. Much less Jon himself.

Sure, perhaps he was being over dramatic, but it’d been weeks! He just wanted to find Ed Sheeran and punch him for that song.

Or maybe give him a hug.

Jon was still deciding.

“Hey, Jon.”

He smiled when he saw Sansa sitting on the couch, painting her toe nails electric blue; Ghost was dutifully guarding her from his position on the floor. Then Jon noticed the shorts. Those were the purple denim ones; they had silver stars on the back pockets.

He was going straight to hell.

“Hey, San.”

“Listen…” She paused to check her work, before turning fully to him. “Marge is giving a barbecue on Saturday. Do you wanna come?”

Jon groaned. Margaery’s idea of barbecue involved copious amounts of alcohol, a DJ and -likely -the police eventually coming to end it.

He was way too old for this.

“I know.” Sansa giggled upon seeing his face. “I know it’s not your thing, but Harry’s going to be there and I’d appreciate the help.”

Harry was a wanker that Margaery had introduced to Sansa, in hopes they’d date. Jon had secretly hoped the whole time they wouldn’t.

They hadn’t, but apparently Harry hadn’t gotten the message that Sansa wasn’t interested, because the prick always tried to corner her when they were in the same place.

“So now I’m your body-guard?” Jon grinned at her.

“Jon, please!” Sansa whined. “I want to go, but he’s so annoying…”

“Ok, ok.” Jon surrendered -he already knew he would. “I’ll go.”

Sansa squealed in delight.

It was just a barbecue. What was the worst it could happen?

xXx

Good Lord, Margaery Tyrell was fucking insane!

That sure as fuck wasn’t a barbecue. It was a rave!

There was a DJ alright. ON A STAGE! There was also a bonfire -in the middle of the day -and a lot of alcohol.

No barbecue was to be seen there.

Jon had stuck around Sansa -probably looking like a lost puppy or a stupid boyfriend.

Harry Hardyng was as idiotic as his name suggested, and he’d tried to talk to Sansa more than once. She’d tried everything to get rid of him; from being polite to just plain telling him to fuck off, but it still took Jon and Margaery interfering for the guy to finally get a clue.

After that Jon managed to enjoy himself a bit, mostly because he got to dance a bit with Sansa.

He’d had a few beers, so he was relaxed and happy as they got a taxi to go home. Sansa, however, had drunk a bit more than he had. She was a mass of giggles and was stumbling around a bit, until they finally got to their apartment.

“I’m gonna hate that DJ forever.” She proclaimed dramatically, kicking her shoes off and dropping her jacket on the couch, before sitting down.

Ghost came out from whatever he was and jumped on the couch -which he was forbidden of doing -and dropped his front legs on Sansa’s lap.

Jon chuckled. She’d been complaining about the poor sod for the last hour. He’d dared to play some strange remix of her beloved song, and Sansa couldn’t get over his insolence.

Jon tried not to let her see his amusement, or she’d be a very Unhappy Drunken Sansa and he liked Happy Drunken Sansa. She was adorable.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Jon offered easily.

Sansa snorted. “Not that bad? Jon, ‘Shape of You’ is a masterpiece! You can’t touch a masterpiece!”

Jon considered saying it was an exaggeration to call that song a masterpiece, but he let this one go, for the sake of their friendship.

“I couldn’t even dance to that.” She was still ranting about it, pouting as she petted Ghost. “The rhythm was all wrong.”

Jon couldn’t hold back his snort at that, because she’d complained about it, but she’d danced anyway. “Couldn’t dance?”

“Not properly.” She insisted.

“You should send him a formal complaint by e-mail.” He teased.

She narrowed her eyes, like she was trying to figure out if he was making fun of her. “Maybe I will.” She told him defiantly.

“Tomorrow.” Jon suggested with a grin. “Now you should go to sleep.”

“No way!” She got up suddenly and grabbed her bag, pulling her mobile out. “I’m not sleeping until I listen the real song!”

Jon sighed. It wasn’t actually late; they’d spent the afternoon there and decided to leave as it got dark, but Sansa had been yawing -drinking sometimes made her sleepy -so he had -foolishly -assumed she’d want to go to bed.

Apparently sleep wasn’t an option when someone disgraced an Ed Sheeran’s song.

She put her mobile on the dock on their mantle, and the familiar beat was playing on the speakers seconds after.

That was Jon’s cue to leave. She was wearing the jeans shorts -the one with fraying ends -and her hair was on a braid, and… Well, Jon was just a guy pathetically in love with a girl.

He had his limits.

“Well, enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, already preparing to leave.

“No!” She grabbed his hand. “Dance with me.”

“Sansa…” Jon groaned, but he let her pull him closer -he was an idiot. “You know I don’t dance.”

“You do.” She insisted. “You danced with me today.”

He kinda had, but he’d mostly stayed by her side moving awkwardly.

This was different. She was pulling him by the shirt and they were almost chest to chest. She was singing along the lyrics, putting Jon’s hand on her waist, her forehead leaning against his.

Jon wasn’t sure if this was Hell or Heaven.

It kind of felt like one of those dreams he had, where Sansa told him she was in love with him, then when they kissed Ned and Robb would appear with shotguns.

He’d had this one a few times, actually.

However, her hands were on his shoulders, and she was moving with the music, and Jon was pretty sure this was, in reality, Heaven.

He wasn’t a dancer, by any measure, but even he could pull some moves every once in a while. He twirled Sansa around -she let out a delighted gasp -then pulled her back to him.

This time, when she came, she didn’t let any space between them. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her whole body against his. And by her whole body, Jon meant all of it; even her hips were flush against his, their legs kind of tangled as they kept moving.

Jon would probably have to move her, or she was going to feel the effect she had on him, and this would be awkward and she wouldn’t talk to him anymore and…

He felt her nose gently brushing against his, and he looked at her just to see that her eyes were already prepared to lock on his. They were basically the same height, so it was terribly easy to get lost on her blue eyes.

“Jon?” She called so softly it was almost lost to the music.

“Yes?” He asked, his throat dry, his voice husky.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” She asked, her breath fanning against his mouth.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He’d been so damn controlled this whole time, but her words broke the dam.

So sure, maybe he should’ve reflected a bit more about the request, but the words had barely left her lips and he was kissing her, like he’d been dreaming of for the last months.

It actually felt like he’d waited an eternity for this moment.

He let one of his hands sink into her glorious hair, like he’d been longing to do for a while now. It felt like silk between his fingers and he wanted to undo her braid and muss her hair up.

However, he also wanted to keep kissing her forever. Jon felt her fingers also grasping his hair and he growled into her mouth. She apparently enjoyed the sound, because she kissed him even harder.

He felt dizzy with the way she bit his lips, and the way she smelled, and her sweet moans against his mouth.

It was a torture to stop it, but he had to.

As much as he’d love to stay there, kissing her forever, he needed to be sure. He needed to know this wasn’t just a drunk escaped, that she wouldn’t regret it in the morning.

He wanted to know if she wanted him the same way he did her.

“Sansa, wait.” He stopped her, pushing her away gently.

The look in her eyes, her red lips, almost made him regret it immediately, but he wanted them to be sure, he wanted them to be on the same page.

“What?” She asked, completely confused.

“Why…” He started, then stopped and tried again. “When… How did we…”

Sansa looked like she was trying not to laugh at his discomfort. “Do you have a question?” She teased.

“I just… Never expected that you would… Want to…”

“Kiss you?” She touched his chin gently. “Because I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

“You have?” Jon should feel ashamed of how needy he sounded right now, but he couldn’t. Not when she was smiling like that.

“I have.” She assured him.

Jon noticed -finally -that his arms were still around her, and she was still so entwined to him. He didn’t want to put space between them, so he didn’t.

“I’ve thought about it every time you were sweet to me, every time you kissed my forehead before going to sleep, all those times you got me chocolate because I was feeling bad…” She rested her forehead against his. “I wanted to kiss you every time you smiled at me, and those times you hugged me…” She grinned at him. “And every time you were shirtless. Though… I’m pretty sure I didn’t want just to kiss you then…”

“Sansa…” Jon groaned.

“Licking was probably more what I had in…”

Jon cut her off with a kiss.

When they parted again Sansa was breathless and her face was red and Jon had never seen a more beautiful thing in his life.

“So…” Sansa took a deep breath. “We’re good?”

If they were good? Jon was fucking floating.

“We’re good.” He told her gently, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re great.”

“So you were really looking at my arse all those times I was dancing.” She teased.

“You…”

“I’m not blind, Jon.” She rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t just that.” He felt he needed to reassure her.

“I know.” She dropped a quick kiss to his lips. “I know it’s not.”

“So…”

“So…” She dragged the word playfully.

“Kissing?” He offered easily.

“To start.” She agreed. “Later we can talk about the licking.”

Jon groaned before kissing her again.

He should send Ed Sheeran a fruit basket or something.

Best song ever.

[the-daily-multi-fandom-post]

The Anchor - part 1

_ ~ [ part -- 2 ] ~ 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n woke up to the sound of knocking on her door. She groaned trying to ignore her brother, putting the pillow over her head. "Y/n, wake up. You need to get ready for school." Matt said as he continued knocking on the door. "Go away, I'm sleeping." Y/n said as she held the pillow over her face, trying to drown out her brothers voice. She heard the door open and footsteps coming up to her. "Hate to do this, but you made me." Matt said. She could hear the smirk in his voice. Matt laughed as he pulled the pillow of his sisters face and grabbed her arms, pulling her out of the bed. "Now get dressed." He said walking out of the door. "I hate you!" Y/n yelled after him. "Love you too!" He yelled back as he went to fix him some breakfast in the kitchen. 

With a groan She got up and started her morning routine. She got a shower, got dressed. (Blue jeans a white t-shirt, Sneakers and her jean jacket). I grabbed my bookbag, Phone and charger.  She fixed her hair then went down stairs to see Matt eating his cereal. I grabbed the cereal off the counter and fixed me a bowl. Sitting down across of Matt we ate. 

"Where's Vikki?" Y/n asked looking around the room. "I don't know, I haven't seen her since yesterday. She was acting a little weird." Matt replied with a shrug. "What do you mean acting weird?" Y/n asked looking at her brother confused. "She said the sun was hurting her eyes, her head was hurting, and she was hungry." Matt answered as he finished his cereal. "Then Stefan came over looking for her. He said he could help her." Matt said looking at his empty bowl with a confused face. "Why?" Y/n asked looking at Matt confused. 

"Did he do something to Vikki?" Y/n asked looking at Matt with a bit of anger on her face. "No, he said he could help her. He didn't do anything to her." Matt answered shaking his head. "So did you find her? Cause I haven't heard from her for a while." Y/n said looking at her older brother. "No, she left town." Matt answered looking at his baby sister. "She left town?" she asked looking at her brother confused. "Yeah, she left town. I don't know when she'll be back. She said she was leaving, she didn't say when she'd be back." Matt  answered with a sigh. "Are you kidding me?! I have got to call her." Y/n said going to grab her phone, but she looked at the time. 

"No time for that, we need to go." She said as she grabbed their bowls putting them in the sink. She grabbed her book bag and the truck keys. "I'm driving." She said as she made he way out of the door. Matt following behind her. Matt cut off the lights and locked the door behind him. Y/n started the truck and then they made their way to school. 

Once they got to school Y/n and matt walked into the school together. Matt had his arm around her shoulder, being the big protective brother he was. Making sure to glare at any teenage boys who even glance a look at her. She rolled her eyes every time he would do it. "I'll see you later." He said as he walked Y/n to her locker. "Stay out of trouble." He spoke with a smile. "Oh, me in trouble? Never." She said sarcastically. "Whatever, I'll see you after school." Matt said leaving his sister, going to his own locker. 

She put all her stuff into her locker. She only kept a few of her books she needed. She was about to shut her locker when her phone beeped. She seen her best friend Jeremy had texted her. "Hey Y/n, come over to the picnic table outside at the oak tree."  She read what he said and was going to reply when she heard someone walk up to her. 

"Hey Y/n, How are you?" -It was Tyler the schools most annoying Jock. She was friends with him, but he was kinda rude when he was with her older sister Vikki. Well, he was rude most of the time.  "I'm fine ty, thanks." Y/n said putting her bag over  her shoulder and texted Jeremy she was on her way, but then she ran into something, Tyler. "Lockwood, what do you want?" Y/n fussed at him. "I just want to know if you want to go to the grill After school." Tyler said with an innocent look, while  Y/n stood there still a little angry because Jeremy was waiting on her. "I don't know, Ask my brother. He's the one who is in charge of me." Y/n huffed out with annoyance. Y/n walked around him and walked to the picnic table  in front of the school. 

Y/n POV

I walked to Jeremy and sat down beside him.  He smiled at me and I smiled back. Jeremy and I had a weird relationship. One minute we're just friends the next minute we're flirting with each other. We have since we got to high school. But then Vikki came into the pitcher then we were back to friends.

"How are you?" He asked knowingly I was messed up since Vikki left. "I've been better honestly." I said and looked down. I felt tired even though I've been up for a while. "Did you do they homework last night?" Jeremy asked making me giggle. "Yeah, Did you?" I asked getting my paper out. "Yeah, but I wanted you to look over them to make sure I didn't get to many wrong." He said looking at me with a smile. "Jeremy. I thought I was your friend, NOT your nerd." I said sarcastically. We done this since we we're in elementary  school. I was good in some stuff and he was good in others. We were just the perfect fit together. "Yup your my nerd and I'm yours for other stuff." He said giving me a hug. I looked over his homework and he got all of it right. Then the bell rung. We both got up and went to our class since we had the same schedule. 

A few classes later Now in history class with Alaric Saltzman: "Ms. Donavan, Mr. Gilbert. You two stay back after class." Mr. Saltzman said after passing out the new homework and getting the old ones up. Class was boring but I tried to pay attention but then I saw something outside the door. Vikki. "Mr. Saltzman. May I have the hall Pass?" I asked Politely. He gave me the hall pass And I gave Jeremy a note of what I saw as I passed him. 

I walked out to the hall and saw Vikki go into the girls bathroom. "Vik." I called out. "Vikki." I called out again. "Vikki where the hell did you go?" I yelled a bit. Thank God no one was in the bathroom with me. I looked around then saw Vikki. "Vikki where the hell have you been?" I questioned her a little pissed. "Y/n, I'm Dead." Vikki said coming towards her sister. "Your a ghost." I said with a tear going down my face. My big sister was dead. "Yeah, but I have to go. You need to take care of yourself and Matty." She said walking closer to me. "I will, I promise." I said hugging her. "I love you." Vikki said then disappearing. Y/n felt pain from where her sister disappeared, and from where she was the anchor for the other side.  She just never knew.

( 3rd person POV) 

Y/n walked out of the bathroom and back to class. She gave Mr. Saltzman the pass and sat back down in her sleep. She whipped the tear off her face. She blocked out the rest of class until the school bell rang. She put all her books in her bag and stayed seated since her and Jeremy had to stay after class. "Are you okay?" Jeremy asked concerned. She shook her head no and gave Jeremy a stick note and it said. "Vikki's dead. I saw her. Meet me at my truck after school." Jeremy  read the note and put it in his back pocket. 

"Ms. Donavan, Mr. gilbert. I have looked over all the paper work you guys have done. You both are very behind. but." Mr. Saltzman said throwing the papers in the trash making Jeremy and Y/n smile. "I want to give you guys a chance. I want you guys to give me a report of Mystic falls back during the Civil War. If you guys are interested in doing so." Mr. Saltzman offered. " YES." Jeremy and Y/N said at the same time. Alaric smiled giving them papers, then allowing them out of the room. After that they walked out of school and got their books out of their lockers. They walked to Y/n truck and  left, since Matt had football practice. 

( Jeremys Pov ) 

We arrived at the grill. We both were talking during the ride about Vikki. Y/N said she can see ghost. I believe her, it might sound weird saying this but I believe her. She's never lied to me before, why would she lie to me now?  She said Vikki died and isn't coming back. She said she wanted to tell matt but didn't know how to do it. So I told her to wait until she feels ready. 

We both walked into the grill and sat down at one of the booths.  I have always liked her. She was beautiful, but I always thought she didn't like me so I dated Vikki to replace her. "Jer?" Y/n said catching my attention. "Hey what did you say?" I asked feeling a little dumb. "I asked if you were okay. you were staring at me." Y/n said to me with a concerned look.

She always did this. Put everyone's feelings before her own. She didn't care if she was dying in pain. She would always make sure all her friends and family were okay and safe.  

"Yeah, I'm Fine I just, I was just think about some stuff." Nice going Jeremy making her feel weird. "What were you thinking about, Vikki?" She asked me and I was about to say no to  her that I wanted to ask her out, but then what if she doesn't like me back. "Yeah." I lied with a sad smile. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you. I know you loved, Love her." She said giving me a sad smile rubbing my hand in a friendly way. "I know." I said looking up at her then behind her to see Elena and Caroline Smiling like clowns behind her. "What are you looking at Jer?" She asked and started to turn around..

[emisfritish]

The beat of your own drum

Pairing : Sarawat / Tine (2gether the series)

Summary : In which P’Air should be consulted for any decision made. Always. For the sake of their own good.

Or- Tine and P’Air have a heart to heart and he finally figures a few things out.  Notes : Seeing as this last episode made it clear none of the boys is currently in possession of the lone brain cell they share between them, I thought it was high time someone valid spoke some sense into them.

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1 hour left to go. 

Tine is sitting in the music room, a guitar sitting on his lap and trying to focus on learning the latest chords that they are supposed to have mastered when they come back to the club after their exams, but he can’t seem to focus. 

Sarawat’s football game against the Architecture team is in one hour, and the more time passes, the more anxious he feels. If Sarawat’s team loses the game, it’ll mean the end for him and Sarawat. And although Tine still isn’t sure about what he wants out of their relationship exactly, he knows that he at least wants the chance to be able to find out. He doesn’t want it to be over yet. 

Tine had decided to come to the music room to practice earlier when the anxiety was getting the best of him, but he doesn’t seem to be able to get out of his head either way. 

His mind whirling with different thoughts, he strums the guitar on the F#M chord. 

“That sounds wrong,” he hears a voice call over from the door, and he lifts his head to find P’Air standing there, her hands on her hips and lifting a judging eyebrow towards him.

“I’m trying to do an F#M, but I can’t manage to get it right,” he says with a self-deprecating smile and Air makes her way closer to him to look at where his fingers are.

“Move over, I’ll show you,” she says, nudging him gently and Tine moves to the side of the bench so P’Air can sit next to him. She takes the guitar from his hands, placing it on her own lap and begins to explain how to play the chord. 

“You see, your fingers should be on the second fret, and you…” she starts to explain, before stopping mid-sentence.

Tine, who is checking the clock again, only to see that just a few minutes have passed since the last time he checked, turns back towards her when he notices the silence and smiles.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

“You seem distracted,” she states, putting the guitar on the floor besides her and turning towards him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you waste your time. It’s just… Sarawat’s game is starting in about an hour, and I’m a little stressed I guess,” says Tine, shrugging his shoulders a bit. 

“Ah, you’re anxious you’re going to lose track of time and miss the game ?” she asks curiously.

“No, it’s not really that. It’s just that there is a lot riding on this game.”

P’Air lifts her eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to elaborate and Tine feels his cheeks warm up a little. He can’t believe he’s going to explain all of this to his P’.

“Well you see, Sarawat and I we’re… well. I don’t know what we are, really. But we’re something. And Sarawat is… well, he’s been flirting with me. Only our friends made a bet to help us figure out this whole situation once and for all. If Sarawat’s team wins the game, then I have to confess my feelings for him. But if Sarawat’s team loses the game, then we can’t see each other anymore and he has to stop flirting with me,” he explains, only to lift his head up and find P’Air watching him as if she didn’t understand any of the words that came out of his mouth. 

“And what do you want, exactly ?” she asks incredulously. 

“Well, I don’t really know P’. I don’t know that I’m ready to confess my love or anything yet, but I also know that I don’t want to lose Sarawat and I… I want us to be something. And I want us to have the time to find out what works for us. So you can see why there is a lot riding on this game.”

P’Air is looking at him as if he was speaking a foreign language, and Tine frowns at her reaction. Had he not been clear in his explanation ?

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” she says, pulling one leg over the bench so she is straddling it and able to face Tine better. “You know that you want to pursue something with Sarawat and that you have… some sort of feelings for him. And yet, you won’t go and admit that to him because your friends told you not to ?”

“Well… Yeah, basically,” he says, thinking about how her sentence did sum up what he was feeling pretty well. “My friends think maybe I’m just confused because of his good looks,” he explains further, and P’Air just sighs in answer. 

“This is why I don’t do boys,” she says, shaking her head in disappointment before looking back at him and fixing him with a stare. 

“So what made you think that taking advice from your friends, who I assume have never been in any sort of long term relationship before, was a good idea ?” she asks, lifting one of her eyebrows in judgement again.

At that sentence, Tine starts to feel a little confused about the whole thing. She does sort of have a point. 

“You know what might actually help Sarawat win the game today ? If you went there and told him that he doesn’t actually have to win, that you’ll be there for him and with him no matter the outcome,” she explains patiently, although Tine can see from her face that she is not impressed with him right now. 

“But what if my friends are right and I’m just confused right now ?” he asks in a small voice. He doesn’t want to drag Sarawat along for nothing after all.

“First off, no more taking advice from the peanut gallery. Second, you think a bet is going to help you figure this out ? You know what will actually help-- Going to Sarawat and being with Sarawat. The only way you’ll figure out your feelings is if you actually spend time with him and talk it all out, maybe take it slow at first,” she explains, as if talking to a five year old. 

At her words, Tine feels a smile make his way on his face and he can’t seem to do anything to contain it. Because she’s right. The game today doesn’t have to mean so much, and him and Sarawat can just decide to be whatever they choose to be.

“March to the beat of your own drum, Nong Tine. Don’t let anyone else decide your future for you,” she says wisely. 

Tine nods in answer, before getting up, the need to go find Sarawat and tell him about his newfound wisdom too strong to hold onto any longer. 

He bends down to press a quick kiss to her cheek, before looking at her with a huge smile when he lifts himself back up. 

“Men,” he hears her whisper disapprovingly, but he ignores the comment.

“Thank you,” he says excitedly. “This is why you’re the one who makes all of the important decisions for our club, you’re obviously a lot smarter than all of us put together.”

“Well, that’s a given,,” P’Air answers with a cocky smile, and Tine laughs at her response. 

He makes his way towards the door, and stops in his tracks when he hears P’Air call him once again. 

“Nong Tine... So this means you definitely won’t be pursuing anything with Pear, right ?” she asks when he turns towards her, and he simply shakes his head in answer. 

“Good,” she says with a small smile. “Do you think Pear would mind if you gave me her line ID then ?”

Tine stays silent, trying to understand what his P’ is asking before the meaning of her words finally becomes clear. Oh. A huge smile breaks on his face. 

“You know, I actually think that she’d like that, but I can ask her just in case before I send it to you,” he says in answer, and he sees a soft smile cross P’Air’s face. “She’s a med student and she’s really into learning all of the classic Rock ballads right now. Maybe you could teach her. I actually think you two could be pretty bad ass together,” he ends up saying.

“Well again, that’s a given,” she says, but the soft smile still gracing her face contradicts the cocky words. “Well, off you go then !”

He smiles at her one last time and turns back towards the door. 

“I’ll ask her later today and send you her line,” he shouts above his shoulder, before he rushes towards the football field. 

When he gets there, many people are already sitting in the stands or standing all around the football field. Tine can see some of the players from both teams already warming up on the field, but he can’t find Sarawat anywhere.

He makes his way towards the locker room and pauses to open up his jacket before entering, Sarawat’s jersey on full display, just like for the last game. He isn’t wearing football shorts but well… This will have to do.

He enters and he finds Sarawat sitting alone on the bench in front of his locker, all of the other players probably in the bathroom or on the field already.

“How do you feel ?” he asks sitting next to him, and Sarawat whips his head towards him in surprise, before shrugging his shoulders. Tine places one of his hands on Sarawat’s knee, the one that got hurt during the fight after the last game, and squeezes gently. 

“Does it still hurt ? Should you even be playing right now ?” he asks softly, and Sarawat looks at him intently. 

“I want to play. And more than that, I have to play,” he says, and Tine can see the hurt shining in his eyes at the idea that Tine doesn’t care if he wins anymore. 

“Actually, you don’t have to. But okay, if you want to play, maybe you should just come find me after the game so we can put some ice on your knee then,” he says with a soft smile, causing Sarawat to frown in answer. 

“You mean I should come and find you if we win,” he says in a small voice. 

“No, I mean you should come and find me either way. I’m tired of letting what my friends, or your friends, or anyone else thinks decide what we want. And I want us. Or at least, I want to see if there could be an us. So if you’ll still have me…” he trails off, hoping Sarawat is understanding what he’s saying. 

The unadulterated hope that Tine can read on Sarawat’s face causes his heart to start beating double time again. 

Yeah, that can’t just be normal.

Before thinking too much about it, he pushes forward on the bench and drops a small kiss on Sarawat’s lips, before getting up and facing him. 

Seeing the look of shock on Sarawat’s face slowly morph into a look of pure joy makes his heart clench in his chest, and Tine knows that this was the right move.

“I’ll let you be, but good luck out there… boyfriend,” he says with a cheeky smile, before leaving the locker room and going to stand on the side of the field, Sarawat’s jersey still proudly on display on his back.

Thank god for P’Air, really.