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andvys · 7 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

Warnings: none really, just a lot of fluff, a bittersweet ending, lots of love and tooth rotting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve take another step and move into a whole new chapter.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: this is it, guys. this is the last chapter, all we got is an epilogue coming and thats it, the story is nearly over! It's been six months of dwoht!!!! six months of plotting and writing with @hellfire--cult ily roe, thank you for doing this with me ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

Moving boxes litter your entire house, some are in the hallway, the kitchen and the living room, some already emptied, some of them are still unopened, sealed with duct tape. Most boxes are in your bedroom though, yours and Steve’s bedroom.

David Bowie’s voice sounds through the speakers, the wind that blows through your open window touches your bare skin, you are only wearing a t-shirt of his, your hair is pulled up in a scrunchie that he picked out for you when you went shopping together, your knees dig into the soft carpet beneath you as you sort through his movie and comic collection, taking them out of the box and stacking them up on your shelf where you had already made space for him. You were honestly a little surprised to find the Captain America comic books in one of his drawers back at his house, he never mentioned them nor did you see him ever holding a comic book in his hand but apparently he only liked them when he was a kid and he grew out of his ‘nerdy’ phase when he turned thirteen. Sure. He told you not to pack them, he told you he doesn’t need them anymore but you saw the look in his eyes, the comfort that teenage boy got from getting lost in a world of superheroes, so you packed them into the box and now they’re finding home on your shelf, ready for him to reach whenever.

You don’t feel his eyes on you at this moment, you are too focused on the memories he packed, on the pictures you find next, of the teens, of Robin and Eddie, of his parents and some of his from his childhood, pictures of you.

Steve had never felt more at peace than he does now, standing in your now shared bedroom, he is sorting through his clothes, placing them on the hangers and into your closet, he is sneaking glances at you, wearing the biggest smile on his face. Your hair is falling out of the scrunchie, his shirt is riding up on your thighs, a soft look resides in your eyes and on your lips as you flip through the pictures he took to his new home. His heart skips strongly as he looks at you, he’s got everything he ever wanted, absolutely everything.

When you asked him to move in with you after only two weeks of dating, he didn’t waste a second to say ‘yes’, perhaps he even sounded a little too desperate when that word left his lips but he couldn’t help it. He hated to be away from you, even more so than before, when you weren’t dating yet. He didn’t want to spend a second without you, and neither did you. You clung to each other from the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, not a single night was spent without the other. You ate breakfast, lunch and dinner together, you showered together and cuddled on the couch in front of the tv, every night. You never went to sleep without one another, so ‘why wait?’, you said before you asked him.

He had no trouble leaving his house, it was only ever home because of you and he felt more at home here than he ever did back there. He felt no sadness to leave it behind, only excitement and happiness to enter this chapter of your life together.

Steve looks at the polaroid camera next to your bed, feeling the urge to keep this moment not only in his memory but also in a picture. He places his yellow sweater into your closet before he makes his way over to the nightstand, he picks up the camera and turns it on, removing the cap leans, he tip toes closer to you and kneels down, squinting one eye shut as he aims the camera at you and he captures a perfect moment.

A look of surprise flashes in your features, your brows are pulled up, your lips parted as you stare at the notes in your hand, the notes that fell out of the little notebook that you can only assume to be from his days at school. You didn’t mean to open it or even look inside, it could be a diary, after all. But the notes fell out when you took it out of the box.

You blink, once, twice. You feel as though your eyes are betraying you as you read the words on the white paper. The ink is a little faded, but you can still see every letter clearly.

Your heart is skipping in your chest.

What are you looking at perv?

Your handwriting.

Your note.

You remember that day, you remember how you caught him staring at you, throughout the whole class, the hopeless girl in you was blushing but… the teenage you was annoyed, thinking that he was just messing with you, thinking that he somehow found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you, to play with you.

You put the note down on your lap and read the other.

Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?

You don’t even hear the clicking sound of the camera, you pay no mind to the flash going off either. You are too surprised by what you see as you keep flipping through the notes that he kept, the ones he kept for years, back when he didn’t even like you.

You flinch in surprise when you feel a pair of arms around your waist but quickly relax and melt into him, into his embrace, into his warm touch. Your lips curl into a smile when his own press soft kisses to your neck, whispering into your skin.

“King Steve was an idiot, wasn’t he? He couldn’t throw away these notes but still kept acting like a dick to you.”

The thought of him struggling to throw your notes into the trash, makes your chest swell with warmth.

You tilt your head back to face your boyfriend, you place the notes down and wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Did… you keep them on purpose?” You ask as for a moment, you thought that he might’ve forgotten them.

“I did, my heart just didn’t allow me to throw them away.”

You chuckle at his words and shake your head, “yeah, sure.”

“It’s true, honey!” He exclaims, squeezing your waist.

You flinch in surprise, a giggle falling from your lips as you hold his wrists tighter.

“It always knew who it belonged to.” He whispers with no humor in his voice, just genuine honesty, because it’s true, his heart knew, it always knew.

“You’re such a sap, Steve Harrington,” you say, though with nothing but a wide smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I’m your sap,” he grins, clinging tighter to your waist, he nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing you in and kissing you there, feeling his heart swelling in excitement, in love as he thinks of his future now, a future he thought he would only ever dream of, a future you both want, with one another. He will get to wake beside you every morning, with you in his arms, greeted by your soft touch, by your sweet kisses, he will get to sit at the breakfast table with you, write the grocery list with you while you enjoy your morning coffee, he will kiss you before leaving for work and he will come home, not to an empty house like he used to, no, he will come to you, his home.

You cup the side of his face when you tilt your head back, chasing his lips with your own, you both giggle when your noses bump together before your mouths touch and you both get lost in the sweet kiss you can never get enough of.

His feelings grow stronger and stronger, each passing second, they get bigger and brighter, evolving into something he never thought was even possible to feel, something bigger than love, something he can’t even describe with words, even if he tried to but he feels like the happiest man in the world – in the fucking universe.

He feels bonded to you, he belongs to you and you to him.

He pulls away from the kiss with an even bigger smile on his face than before, he caresses your cheek and looks into your eyes, “I think… no, I know,” he corrects himself, pressing his lips to yours once more, “you’re my soulmate.”

A soft giggle escapes you, you tilt your head to the side and move closer to him. Staring at the loving look in his hazel eyes, the relaxed and happy smile he now constantly wears.

“You really think–”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, “I know so,” he whispers against your mouth, “my heart knows, I know.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper and wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck, crawling into his lap, he happily pulls you tighter against him. “I love the sound of that.”

“I chose you.”

“Oh, did you?” You giggle. “We weren’t made for each other? You just chose me? That’s how it works?”

Steve squeezes your waist, moving one hand up your body, he cradles your face again and tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “oh honey, I think we were made with each other, but I still chose you,” he whispers in confidence, though struggling to word his feelings, his beliefs correctly.

You gaze into his eyes, trying to make sense of his words, though your mind can follow, your heart understands.

“Well, I chose you back, Steve Harrington.”

He smiles and he can’t hold back from kissing you again, kissing the love of his life, kissing you until he can no longer breathe.

Neither of you heard the car pull up into your driveway, or the slam of the front door, or the loud ‘hello’. You are too caught up in each other, in the kiss, in the perfect touches.

“Guys?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the house, “I brought food!”

You are the first to pull away, giggling when he frowns at you and chases after your lips, pecking them once more.

“He brought food.”

“Mhmm, I’d rather eat something else right now,” he murmurs and trails his kisses down to your neck, holding your waist tighter when you try to move away.

Your stomach flips, skin growing warm beneath his hands and his lips, “l-later, Stevie…” You stutter, trying to control your breathing when his lips find that one spot.

“Guys, stop fucking or I swear to Ozzy, I’m gonna come upstairs and–”

“Alright, alright!” Your boyfriend yells out to him, chuckling, “we’re coming!”

“We so are coming,” you giggle into his ear, kissing his cheek before you pull away from him, amused by the groan that falls from his lips, “later.”

His hands fall from your waist as you stand up and walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of shorts to wear, not wanting to flash your best friend by accident.

Steve gets up as well, though his eyes never leave your form, they’re glued on your butt. He licks his lips as he watches you bend over, those silky pink panties look so perfect to rip off… later. He nearly groans again when you pull your black shorts over them. Coming up from behind, he grabs a handful of your ass, earning a squeal from you that only makes him grin when you look back at him.

“You’re obsessed,” you snort and swat his hand away weakly.

“With you? Yes, I am,” he smiles proudly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and starts leading you out into the hallway.

“No, with my ass.”

At that, he grabs your ass again, giving it a squeeze, “that too.”

Your giggle echoes through the hallway, and your best friend instantly looks up at the sound of that, standing in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by Steve’s boxes, with two bags of takeout and a confused frown on his face.

“Hey guys.”

“Hi Eds,” you smile at your best friend.

Steve greets him happily, a big smile resting on his face, Eddie isn’t sure if he has ever seen him like this but ever since you two started dating, Steve hasn’t stopped smiling and you are just the same, you’re basically skipping down the stairs, your eyes are shining, your skin is glowing, you are the happiest you have ever been.

You and Steve found each other.

Two pieces that always belonged together.

Two pieces that became one.

Eddie’s eyes move back to all the boxes in your hallway, the handwriting on them is unmistakably Steve’s.

“So uh, what’s all this?” He asks, he has an idea of what this is but a part of him believes that he is just mistaking something.

You and Steve glance at each other, eyes lighting up even more, lips curling into even bigger smiles. You bite your lip and turn back to Eddie.

“Steve is moving in!”

Eddie’s brown eyes grow wide, his lips part in surprise and he nearly drops both bags of takeout, he stares between you two with an expression on his face that nearly makes you both laugh.

He looks around again, catching a glimpse of Steve’s favorite armchair now standing in your living room, along with an opened box, a blanket falling out of it, the one that always decorated the big couch in the living room back at his house.

Clearly, you aren’t joking.

He squints his eyes as he looks back at the two of you, watching the way your boyfriend pulls you back into his chest, his arms slowly moving around your waist.

“Uh, aren’t you guys moving a little too quickly?” He asks, looking between you both bewildered.

You and Steve turn to face one another, you both smile, gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment. His flash with… mischief as his hand begins to travel south, settling on your lower belly.

You both turn back to the metalhead.

“Nah,” you speak in unison.

Eddie blinks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Steve.

“We uh… sort of cooked a little nugget… a little too soon,” Steve explains, biting back his laugh.

You press your lips together as you stare at your best friend. You place your hand over Steve’s and lean your head back on his shoulder, melting into him when he kisses your temple.

If Eddie’s eyes could grow any wider, they would. He blinks a few times before he closes his eyes completely, shaking his head, his curls bounce. He furrows his brows so strongly, he looks as though he is in pain. He opens his eyes again and takes a deep breath, he looks at your serious face, at his and then at Steve’s large hand covering your stomach protectively.

Little nugget.

You and Steve wait patiently for his reaction.

“Jesus Christ! You horny fuckers don’t know how to use protection!?” He exclaims, raising his arms up, the paper bags in his hands rustle. You’re surprised they didn’t rip yet with the way he is flailing his arms around. “A little nugget!? What the– I need to sit down.”

Steve snorts quietly, amused by the shock on his face.

“Oh, this is crazy,” Eddie sighs, like a shocked father whose teenage girl just revealed her accidental pregnancy.

You can no longer hold it in, bursting into laughter, you infect Steve with it too. His arms tighten around you as you laugh at your best friend.

Eddie’s eyebrows rise up now, his jaw dropping slightly as he finally catches on.

“You really fell for it,” you giggle, blinking back the tears of amusement.

“Can you blame me!?” Eddie nearly yells, pointing at you and Steve, “you’re at it like some goddamn rabbits! Besides, we all know about his breeding kink!”

Your giggles might not ever die down today, Steve’s red cheeks make this moment even better.

“Dude,” he groans.

“It’s true,” Eddie snorts as he relaxes again, coming down from the shock.

“It is,” you nod.

Eddie opens his mouth again, though his smile quickly falls and he scrunches his nose when he looks between you both, a smirk now pulling at Steve’s lips.

“Oh… okay, yeah uh, let’s change the topic,” he shakes his head again, holding up his hand as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alright, well, there are no nuggets on the way yet, so you can relax.”

Eddie nods, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, so uh… are you guys hungry?”

You look down at the bags in his hand, only now registering the smell of fries, your mouth waters and your stomach feels empty, all of a sudden.

You nod and open your mouth, but before you or Steve can respond, a knock on the door interrupts you.

Eddie turns to the door before he looks back at you, brown eyes flicking back and forth between yours and your boyfriends, “are you expecting anyone?” He asks, placing the takeout bags on the dresser.

You and Steve both shrug.

“Not really,” you mumble.

Eddie steps forward and opens the door, stepping aside to let you see who is standing on the other side.

“Oh, hello ladies,” Eddie grins, waving at the little girl in Max’s arms.

Your eyes light up in excitement, a warm smile graces your face when you see your niece who is babbling away, waving with her little arms and tugging at Max’s hair who doesn’t even flinch.

“Oh my god,” you nearly squeal, leaving your boyfriend’s embrace, you make your way over to the two girls, “hi! Come here, princess!” You grin, lifting your arms up, giggling when Francine squeaks at the sight of you, making grabby hands before you take her from Max’s arms.

“I missed you so much, Francis!” You whisper and tickle her side, kissing her chubby cheek.

Steve’s heart flutters, a sweet smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks turn rosy and he feels warm all over. Every time he sees you holding your niece, he can’t help but picture you with your own little family. He takes a few steps forward, wrapping his arm around you and taking Francine’s tiny hand, “hi angel,” he whispers, cooing at her when she gets jumpy in your arms, excited to see him. He tickles her belly, making the little girl giggle, “you got so much bigger since the last time!”

Max furrows her brows, not knowing about the day you and Steve babysat Francine together. She chuckles when your niece clasps her tiny hand around his finger.

“Hi guys!” Your sister finally catches up, walking into the house, car keys in one hand and pizza boxes in the other. She stops next to Max, and nudges her shoulder against hers, “I ran into Max downtown when I stopped by to get some pizza!” She explains, placing the boxes on the dresser next to Eddie’s takeout bags, “oh, you got takeout already.”

“Yep, I got some fries and burgers for Blondie and boyfriend over here,” Eddie grins teasingly, knowing that you haven’t introduced him as your boyfriend to her in person yet, you didn’t get the chance to until now, she only just came back from her vacation.

Max snickers at your flustered expression, her and Eddie share a look, both amused by the way you’re trying to hide your face in Steve’s chest which only prompts Francine to grab a handful of his shirt, making him chuckle.

“Oh right,” your sister grins, looking between you two as she makes her way over to you, already opening her arms so she can greet you properly.

Steve lets go of you but Francine doesn’t let him step away, she still holds his finger tightly, making both him and Eddie chuckle when she stares up at him with her big eyes, babbling away.

“She’s just like her auntie,” Eddie comments, laughing when you shoot him a playful glare over your sister’s shoulder.

“How are you, Daisy?” Your sister smiles, squeezing you tightly before pulling away.

You see the teasing look in her eyes when she glances at your boyfriend behind you.

“I’m good,” you reply, unable to do it without a smile, something that makes the look in your sister’s eyes soften because it’s the first genuine ‘I’m good’ that she heard from you in years. You always lied to her about your true feelings, never letting her in, never giving her the words she wanted to hear from you, you kept it all to yourself, not wanting to ‘share’ your misery with the people around you.

She never got through to you, no matter how hard she tried, she never succeeded, but the people in this room did – Eddie and Max did, they gave you back that smile that she missed seeing on your face, they broke you out of that little shell, you were so comfortable in for the past years.

And Steve, he… gave you everything.

You are more than just good. You are happy, happy in a way you have never been before. The walls around you have crumbled completely, the look in your eyes is one of love and contentment, your skin is glowing, your eyes are shining, you are just… happy.

“So… are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend properly this time?” She teases, only having heard from you about it all on the phone.

Your cheeks grow hot, you know how long she had been waiting for this moment, always teasing and hoping for you to finally fall in love – as though you weren’t hopeless for years already, she was pointing out cute guys for you to date, not knowing that there was only one you had your eyes set on.

“Twinkie–”

“You know that’s not my name,” your sister interrupts you with a glare, making you and Max chuckle.

“Fine,” you snort, saying her real name this time as Steve wraps his arm back around you again, pulling you into him, he grins excitedly as he stretches his hand out to your sister, like it’s their first time meeting, like she didn’t walk in on you and him cuddling on your couch with baby Francine in his arms. She takes his hand with an amused smile.

Max and Eddie share a look, amused by this little introduction.

“That’s my boyfriend Steve,” you say with a giggle, feeling your heart burst with happiness. Francine squeals in your arms, like she’s happy to hear those words, as well, making everyone laugh in the room.

“Steve, that’s my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Twinkie,” Steve chuckles, earning a glare from her.

You lean your head on his shoulder, adjusting your baby niece on your hip. Steve lets go of your sister’s hand and wraps his arm back around you again, kissing your temple.

“I meant to say that I will kick your ass if you hurt her but I think that Max might beat me to it.”

“You’re right,” Max nods at your sister, crossing her arms over her chest, she gives Steve a pointed look, “he’ll wake up in Billy’s car again if he ever does anything stupid.”

Steve’s eyes widen, he shakes his head at her, holding his hand up slightly with Francine’s hand still wrapped around his finger, “no way, Mayfield.”

Eddie smirks as he throws his arm around Max’s shoulder, grinning at the redhead, “don’t worry, Steve. She’s getting driving lessons from me now.”

You snort.

“That’s even worse, Munson,” Steve scoffs, pointing at Max, “a maniac getting driving lessons from another maniac? Yeah, no goddamn way, you’re getting driving lessons from me now.”

Eddie looks a little offended by his words, he places his hand over his heart, “I’m a good driver.”

“Yeah, besides I’m good enough to drive by myself, I don’t need an instructor, I watched and learned from Billy.”

“Great, another maniac,” Steve sighs.

Your sister laughs at the interaction, she looks around, finally noticing all the boxes though she doesn’t say anything, even as her brows furrow and a curious, confused look flashes in her eyes. It doesn’t take her long to figure out what this means, it’s obvious, even more so with the clear excitement in both yours and his eyes.

You look away from your friends and your boyfriend, drowning out the conversation as you look back at your sister, noticing the look in her eyes and the way she stares at the boxes. You grow a little nervous, not knowing what she thinks of this, what she will say about this but when she meets your eyes, she only shakes her head at you with a smile on her face.

She takes a step closer, placing her hand on her daughter's back as she leans in to whisper in your ear, “when you know you know, and you always knew.”

You nod with a smile on your face, feeling the heat of his body against yours, feeling his loving touch on your shoulder, feeling safe in his embrace.

“Yeah, I did.”

You knew it from the very start.

You were ruined for anyone else, before he even touched you.

And when his lips touched yours for the first time, you knew you were done for, you thought it was over for you, that you would never find happiness after that but now you’re here, he is here, he is all yours and sometimes you are still in disbelief about it all, no matter how many weeks have passed, you still can’t wrap your head around it all, about how lucky you are, just like him.

But there is someone else who is still in disbelief, Dustin. He was so convinced that you were dating Eddie, he just couldn’t understand how it all went by him that you and Steve had been a thing for months already, that you weren’t Eddie’s girl but Steve’s girl.

He is even more in shock now as he is in your living room, taking in the sight of Steve’s belongings in your house, all the moving boxes.

You invited all your friends over after the surprise visits you had already gotten, the amount of food Eddie and your sister brought was way too much anyways, so Steve made a call and invited all your friends over, well, most of them.

Argyle went back to California. Jonathan who declined both college acceptance offers to Lenora Hills Community college and Emerson, made his dream come true of going to NYU, after a long and honest talk with Nancy, they decided to follow their own dreams, but still sticking together, even with a distance between them. Boston and New York aren’t that far apart, after all.

So, after a little goodbye party at the hideout where Eddie and his band played, they all left Hawkins after a wild night filled with booze and weed – from both Argyle and Eddie.

Robin and Vickie went on a trip to Chicago before the latter leaves for College as well, but Robin knew all about Steve’s moving plans, he called her right away to tell her the news.

Everyone is entering a new chapter and this time, it’s all, only positive changes, only ones you all look forward to, ones that you don’t step into nervously and with uncertainty, no, for once, you are all at peace, you are all happy, all excited for the future.

Your living room is filled with friends, with family, it’s filled with laughter and smiles, something that has been lacking in the past few years. A house that was once just filled with sadness and a grayish glow, is now filled with life, the golden sun that shines inside, reflect the emotions in you now.

Steve who is sitting on the couch, is holding your niece in his arms, she is sitting on his lap, happily. Babbling and giggling more than she did before, she is waving her arms around, giggling louder every time he makes a funny face or tickles her belly.

Eddie sits beside him, cooing at the little girl every time a giggle escapes her, “oh, a fairy was born,” he tells her after each giggle from her.

Steve gives her tiny hand a kiss when she places it on his cheek, which only prompts her to laugh again.

“Oh, and another,” Eddie chuckles and taps her nose.

A loving smile stays on your lips as you watch your boyfriend with your niece, adoring the mesmerized look on his face. He chuckles every time she turns to Eddie and looks at him with her big eyes before she turns her attention back to him, squealing and waving her arms around.

Your sister sits beside you, looking stunned, “huh, he is a natural.”

“Mhmm, he is,” you nod.

Lucas and Dustin sit on the floor, bickering about something as always, while Max rolls her eyes at them every few seconds or so, cursing at them when Dustin throws one of the pillows at his friend.

“Hey!” Steve shakes his head at him, giving them a disapproving look, “stop that! How old are you two? Francine over here is maturer than you two,” he grumbles, gesturing to the little girl in his arms who looks back and forth between Dustin and Lucas with a curious look on her face.

Eddie chuckles beside him, nodding.

“You really got yourself a dad boyfriend,” your sister whispers into your ear, snickering as she sips on her coke.

You giggle and nod your head. You love this side of him and you love how he looks with a baby in his arms.

Steve catches you staring at him, and the scowl he previously looked at the teens with, quickly vanishes, a smile appears on his face and he tilts his head at you, beckoning you to him.

You put your drink down on the table, pushing aside your empty plate from before, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend.

“Can I hold her?” Eddie asks, holding Francine’s tiny hand in his, smiling at the little girl.

“Oh, now you wanna hold her?” Your sister chuckles, teasing him. “Thought you were scared of babies, Eddie.”

“Only when they poop.”

“You are such a child, man.” Lucas snorts at him.

“Hey, you’re not the one who was chased down with a diaper full of poop!” He exclaims, glaring at Max who only giggles in response.

“You chased him down with a dirty diaper?” Lucas asks his girlfriend, who nods with a smirk on his face.

He starts laughing and raises his hand at her, high fiving his girlfriend.

Eddie shakes his head at the two, rolling his eyes before he looks back at Francine, reaching his hands out to her, she looks at him curiously, grasping his thumb, she holds it tightly.

“Come here, princess,” Eddie whispers as he carefully takes her from Steve’s hands, lifting her into his arms, he cradles the back of her head even though she doesn’t even need the support anymore. “Holy shit, she’s so light.”

“Language,” Steve glares at him as he relaxes back in his seat once Eddie leans back with her in his arms. The metalhead ignores him, too mesmerized by your niece in his arms, who stares up at him, curiously and with big eyes.

Your boyfriend reaches for your hand, not letting you sit beside him, he pulls you onto his lap instead, wrapping his arms around your waist, he takes you into his embrace, kissing your shoulder once you’re settled on top of him.

“Hey, keep it pg in here, there’s kids and a baby in this room,” your best friend teases your boyfriend, smirking at him.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lucas scoffs.

“Yeah, bet Max and Lucas meet up at Skull Rock to kiss–”

“Dude!” “Dustin!”

Lucas and Max yell in unison, glaring at their friend with flustered faces, causing you all to laugh at them.

“It’s the truth,” Dustin smirks, shrugging – and that is how all the bickering starts again, though this time, Max joins.

Shaking your head at them, you turn away to watch your niece instead, laying your head on Steve’s shoulder, your heart flutters in your chest when he tightens his hold on you and kisses your temple, rubbing circles into your hip, he whispers the softest I love you into your ear.

“Oh my god,” your best friend whispers in awe, watching your niece falling asleep in his arms, tiny hand still gripping his finger, face nuzzled into his chest comfortably. Eddie looks around, shushing at the teens.

You and Steve look at each other in surprise, not even five minutes have passed since Eddie took Francine from Steve’s arms, and she is already fast asleep in his arms.

“Well now we know who can babysit her,” your sister jokes, also stunned by how fast she passed out in the metalheads arms.

“Yeah, and our future kids too,” you say without thinking, completely unaware of the feelings those words cause inside of Steve.

He blushes a deep red, warmth spreads inside of him and he shifts with you on his lap, gripping you tighter and clearing his throat when your best friend smirks at his reaction.

That shuts the teens up, their bickering coming to a stop the moment they realize what you just said, they all share a look before they turn to you and Steve.

While Lucas smirks and wiggles his brows at Steve, Max is giggling at his blushing cheeks but Dustin, he only raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, not in disapproval though.

He raises his hands up, closing his eyes for a moment, “you guys gotta give me a moment, I’m still trying to get used to this,” he wiggles his fingers between you both.

“What do you mean?” Your sister chuckles, cocking her head to the side.

Dustin blinks at her, gesturing to you once more, “them being a couple, I mean have you seen them before!? They were constantly at each other’s throats!”

“Yeah, cause Steve was an idiot,” Lucas laughs.

Steve gives him a pointed look, but doesn’t fight him on that, he calls himself that, all the time, for everything that happened between you in the past.

“I thought she was with Eddie!”

Your sister laughs with a confused look on her face, shaking her head, “why, because they’re always together?”

Steve rolls his eyes at Dustin, holding you a little tighter.

“Yeah! And like I said, they were always fighting!”

“Mhmm, and suddenly they didn’t, I wonder why,” Lucas smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you both again.

“He really wanted them together, by the way,” Max tells your sister, pointing her finger at her boyfriend.

“From day one,” he nods proudly, “and now they’re together, moving in together! I always knew what’s up. I mean, I always knew about Steve’s little crush on her, a guy just knows it.”

Dustin looks at him confused, he frowns and blinks at your boyfriend, staring at him for a long moment, he looks at you and then back at him before his eyes widen and he jumps up, “that is why you gave me the shittiest advice ever! You told me chicks dig it when guys are mean to them!”

“The key with girls is acting like you don’t care,” Lucas and Max mock him, giggling with each other.

Steve groans and throws his head back when you turn to face him with an amused smile, “wow, that’s some good advice, babe.”

“Well, it clearly worked,” Eddie snorts, glancing at you briefly as he adjusts Francine in his arms.

Dustin grins at Steve, “oh, that’s why you were so mean to her! Bet you expected her to fall at your feet but instead she was mean to you too! That’s why you didn’t stop there and just kept going because you wanted her attention – oh, now I understand!” He laughs, shaking his head as he stares in disbelief, like he uncovered something groundbreaking.

“You know what, Henderson?” Steve mumbles, straightening his back, he leans closer to you, pressing his chest against your back, he leans his chin on your shoulder, “you’re right.” He admits after a long pause, despite hating to boost that boy’s ego, he admits it.

He is right.

Steve was always infatuated with you, he just never wanted to admit it, not even to himself, not even when he kept those notes that you had found earlier. He ignored what he desired, who his heart desired, because that teenage boy in him, was too proud to admit that he liked someone who didn’t like him back but he also couldn’t fight those feelings, they irritated him, they made him mean.

So yeah, Dustin was right but so was Lucas.

And now they continue to tease him about it all, while you sit back and watch in amusement, enjoying the redness that covers your boyfriend's cheeks while he holds you in his arms and plays with your hands, toying with your ring finger the way he always does, he tries to hide the smile on his face but fails to do so when your eyes meet his and he sees the joy in them, the one that has been there since the night he confessed his love for you.

He loves you so much, he can’t even think of a moment when he didn’t – it’s impossible to think of one.

You adjust on top of him, turning and twisting your body until you can lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him, not caring about anything around you, about the vulnerability, the softness, the affectionate side of you, you’re displaying so casually – something you would have never done before.

Steve’s heart could burst at this very moment.

He knows how much you struggled to show your true feelings and emotions, how you hid from the world, for years. How you never let anyone see the real side of you, how closed up and sheltered you were, how you dug yourself a hole and stayed in there for the longest time, thinking that you were better off in hiding, thinking that you had to stay in the void forever, all alone, all by yourself, with fears and a feeling of deep sorrow, you just couldn’t let go of.

But through the darkness, through the pain that the upside down had brought you, had dragged you into, you found a family, just like he did.

Eddie stepped into your life, a best friend you never thought you would have again after you lost both Billy and Chrissy so tragically. You didn’t want to let him in, you feared that the curse upon you that you believed you had, would take him from you too, that it was only a matter of time until the darkness would drag him away from you as well, just like it had dragged away everyone else that you have loved. But he didn’t allow you to push him away, he didn’t let you believe for a second that any of what happened was your fault, he stuck to your side, from the day at skull rock, he stuck to your side in the upside down and after, he stayed, no matter how hard you tried to deny that bond between you, he stayed.

Max, the stubborn girl that refused to ever leave your side, who never once stepped away from you, who sees you as her big sister, just like Lucas. The two teens had to be forced out of your hospital room after what Jason did to you, they never left without a fight.

And through the darkness, through the worst days, you and Steve have found each other, through monsters and pain, through bloodshed and tears, you finally found your way to each other �� neither of you are surrounded by sadness any longer, by emptiness and a longing for love you could only ever find in each other.

This room that was once filled with silence and sadness, an emptiness, a dark cloud that always hung over your home is now gone. You are no longer alone, you’re surrounded by people who decided that you are worth loving, worth staying for, you both are.

You have found home in each other, and you found a family.

That night, when you are back in your bedroom, you sit on your floor next to each other, surrounded by candlelight, two glasses of wine on each side of you, a bag of your favorite candy before you and a bunch of pictures all across your floor, surrounding the corkboard that lies on the carpet. Your TV is on but neither of you pay attention to the movie playing on the screen. The smell of fresh bed sheets lingers in the room, along with the scent of his and your body wash, your hair is still wet from your shower together.

Your giggles sound through the room as he laughs at the silly picture he took of Dustin earlier, unable to stop as he stares at the face the teen made.

“We’re definitely putting that picture up,” Steve snickers as he pins it to the corkboard – the corkboard that was his idea, to put up pictures of your favorite memories, of the people that mean the most to you.

“I think we’ll need a second corkboard,” you chuckle as you look at all the pictures that have taken up the entire space of the board.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks down at the pictures on your lap, he reaches for the one of you and Eddie, that one was taken in his backyard, both yours and his eyes are bloodshot, lazy smiles are on your faces, your hair is wild and all over the place, Eddie is wearing two pigtails, his arm is thrown over your shoulder, a joint sticking between his fingers, Steve remembers that night, the way you all got drunk and high and played hide and seek in Eddie’s backyard, like a group of kids – it wasn’t long after you and Steve made your little arrangement. That night, he pulled you behind one of the high bushes and kissed you breathless while your friends were looking for you. He was the reason for your messy hair and your puffy lips.

Steve takes the picture with a grin on his face, taking up one of the last spots on the board, he pins it.

“Really? This one?” You question and tilt your head back to look at him, “why?”

“Cause you look adorable,” he whispers and leans in to peck your lips, “with your hair all messed up from my hands,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Making out in the bushes was definitely something,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his.

He cradles your cheeks and nods, smiling as he leans his forehead against yours. You sigh in contentment as his lips brush against yours, his warm touch sends sparks through your body, he is melting into you the way you melt into him. You look into his hazel eyes, into his loving gaze, a breathy, sweet chuckle escapes him before he closes his eyes and kisses you deeply.

Your lips move slowly against his, you savor every second of each kiss, you both do, even though you know you have the rest of your life to do this with each other. You taste the wine on his lips and the candy, you feel his protective, soft touch, his thumb caressing your cheek as his tongue slips past your lips, clashing against your own.

His heart flutters in his chest when you whimper into the kiss, when you throw your arms around his neck and press yourself against him, crawling into his lap with his help.

Steve holds you tightly, his hand travels to the back of your neck, running his fingers through your wet hair, he runs his fingers up and down your spine before he cradles your cheek again. His free hand pats the space around him, touching the carpet as he searches for the polaroid camera, sighing and moaning into the kiss when you press yourself tighter against him and deepen the kiss, running your fingers through his messy hair.

The flash of the camera doesn’t even make you flinch, it only makes you giggle as you pull away from your boyfriend, your eyes flashing with amusement when he opens his own and meets you with a grin.

“You’re so sneaky, Stevie,” you whisper as you glance at the polaroid camera in his hand.

Steve laughs and steals another kiss from you, he puts the camera down after you pick out the picture.

You look down at the still developing picture, waiting for the reveal. You press your lips together, sighing when he kisses your neck.

“I’m so happy, baby, I hope you know that,” Steve whispers against your skin, slipping his hand underneath your shirt as he hugs you against his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs adoringly, the sight of your smile, of the joy in your eyes makes his heart swell so strongly.

Many months ago, he told you to get yourself a boyfriend and stop getting on his nerves — you don’t know why this moment flashes in your mind now, why this takes you back to that day at Family Video but the memory makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks, amused.

“You told me to get myself a boyfriend… and I did.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side, he purses his lips as his hazel eyes gaze into yours, they widen and a huff leaves his mouth before he chuckles.

“Yeah, and I fucking love it, baby. I’m your boyfriend,” he says, proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well, I love to be your girlfriend, Stevie.”

His heart will always flutter at these words, at the way you look at him, at the way you touch him, like he’s something perfect.

“You caught me,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours strongly, “and I caught you.”

You hold onto his neck, running your fingers through his hair, you refuse to look away from him.

“And I’m never letting you go,” he promises, “you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how hard you’re smiling, and it only gets worse when he leans in to pepper your face in kisses, “my girlfriend.” Kiss. “My beautiful, gorgeous girl.” Kiss. “My future wife.” Kiss. “My stars.” Kiss. “My sun and my moon.” Kiss. “My whole galaxy.” Kiss.

You can’t stop giggling, your eyes tear up from all the laughter that falls from your lips and when you lean your head back, it only turns out to be a mistake when Steve latches his mouth onto your neck, tickling you with the stubble on his cheeks.

“Steve!”

His chuckles vibrate against you, he buries his face in your neck and breathes in your scent, “I’m so in love with you.”

He reminds you of that, all day, when he doesn’t whisper those words into your ear, he lets you feel it, with touches, with small gestures, leaving notes around the house or by waking you with coffee every morning when you’re not the one beating him to it.

Steve pushes you down on the carpet and crawls on top of you, pressing one hand on the carpet beneath you, he looks away from you for a moment, taking the fully developed polaroid picture, he smiles at it as he pins it into the middle of the corkboard.

You admire him, raising your hand to cup his cheek, you brush your fingers through his hair, it got so much longer but you love it like this, how it covers his forehead, how it curls on the nape of his neck, how messy it looks.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He whispers as he reaches for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looks down at you with loving eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

These words always feel like a warm and comforting embrace. There is so much love that he holds in his heart for you, he can’t even put it into words just how strong it is, not even if he tried to.

You trace his features with your fingers, touching him softly and carefully, making him melt into your touch as a smile graces his face, he slowly leans in, closer and closer until your lips are brushing against each other.

“Forever?” He asks you, gazing into your starry eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling when he presses himself against you, staring at you in a way that makes all your insides tingle.

“Forever and ever!” You grin before he slams his lips back on yours, kissing you deeply and feverishly, smiling happily against your lips as his hands make their way under your shirt while yours get lost in his hair.

“Forever and ever,” he murmurs against your lips, opening his eyes, they basically sparkle with stars. “My darling, forever and ever, I fucking love the sound of that.” He whispers and kisses your cheek. “I love you.”

You pinch his chin between your fingers and kiss his lips, smiling brightly at your man, the golden light in your room makes him look so ethereal. His hazel eyes shine so golden, his skin inviting your lips, his hands lay on your body so perfectly, like a touch of an angel, perhaps he is one, he is yours.

You went through the storm, the one you have always been so afraid of, you went through it, through the darkest of storms, through ones you didn’t even think existed and you didn’t come out unscathed, you were knocked off your feet and you were harmed, you took scars with you, on your body and in your heart but even through that, you came out alright – because he was always there, he always reached his hand out to you, he always waited on the other side, he was always there, even when you both didn’t realize just how close he always was, just how ready he always was to fight for you the way you always fought for him.

You both went through so much, you both suffered greatly.

But now you are here, with each other, where you both belong.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, he kisses your ring finger, making that smile on your face bigger and brighter.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you whisper back before you melt into each other, yet again. Getting lost in the kiss, one of endless to come.

Hell was the journey but it brought you both to heaven.

Hands tied,

♡

well, it's over, this is the end :') (actually there's still gonna be the epilogue so I'm gonna save my sappy comment for that one)

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @corrodedcorpses @moon-flowerrs @munson-mjstan @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- chapter twenty five #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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seungkw1 · 12 days ago

Text

don’t you want me, baby? — yjh [SIDE A]

🎧 spotify playlist

🖭 pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader 🖭 theme: 80s au, romance, humor 🖭 wc: 12.5k 🖭 warnings: part 1: smoking (brief), underage drinking, mildly suggestive, 95z are idiots (lovingly); part 2: smut 🖭 a/n: this fic parallels a mixtape and takes place over the course of most of reader’s life - Side A (this part) is childhood through high school and Side B (part 2) will be through college. the names of the chapters correspond to the playlist linked above, make sure to check it out :) shoutout to @lovetaroandtaemin and @miniseokminnies for beta reading <3 // this was written for the @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe collab! check out the full masterlist here!!

You've known Jeonghan nearly your whole life. At first, he was just the annoying kid who lived down the street, but eventually you became part of the same friend group. You date his best friend for a bit, but when that relationship ends, you begin to spend more time with him - one-on-one. Soon, you start to realize that there might be more to your relationship with Jeonghan than you initially thought.

TRACKLIST: SIDE A Track 01: Don’t You Want Me – The Human League Track 02: Jessie’s Girl – Rick Springfield Track 03: Take on Me – a-ha Track 04: What I Like About You – The Romantics Track 05: Tainted Love – Soft Cell SIDE B Track 06: The Boys Of Summer – Don Henley Track 07: Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds Track 08: Everybody Wants To Rule The World – Tears for Fears Track 09: Let’s Dance – David Bowie Track 10: Can’t Fight This Feeling – REO Speedwagon Track 11: You Make My Dreams (Come True) – Daryll Hall & John Oates

🖭 Track 01: Don’t You Want Me – The Human League

🎶 You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me

[1973, Spring - Third Grade]

“Y/n!”

You turn at the sound of your name. It’s your annoying neighbor and classmate, Jeonghan, chasing you down as you walk home. You had both just gotten off the school bus - he lives on the same street as you, just a few doors down. Unfortunate. As if seeing him all day in class wasn’t bad enough. You’re already past his house, but now it appears he’s following you to yours. You turn back around and continue down the sidewalk, choosing to ignore him - but he’s persistent.

“Hey y/n!! Wait up!”

You pick up your pace, but the sound of his sneakers smacking against the concrete gets louder as he runs after you, quickly catching up. You yelp as he yanks you by the handle of your backpack, sending you flying backwards. You crash into him, knocking the both of you to the ground.

“Ow! What the hell, Jeonghan!!” you shout as you scramble to get off of him. You roll to the side, lightly scraping your knees as you catch yourself. It hurts, but at the moment you have a bigger problem to deal with.

“You can’t say H-E-double hockey sticks, that’s a BAD WORD!” he yells back, trying to get up off the ground, but with a swift push of your foot you knock him back down.

“Hey, no fair!!” he squeaks at you, wiggling away as he jumps back to his feet. “I’m telling my mom!”

“What are you gonna tell her, that you got beat up by a girl?” you taunt. He opens his mouth to argue back, but he realizes you’re right. Scowling, he sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry at you, before turning around and running off back to his own house. Annoyed, you brush the dirt off your knees and head home.

Stupid boys, you think to yourself. I am NEVER EVER going to kiss one.

[1978, Fall - Eighth Grade]

The crisp autumn breeze rushes through your hair as you vigorously pedal your three-speed bicycle uphill. As you reach the hilltop, the image of the town unfolds before you: you see the arcade, the pharmacy, various shops and newspaper stands - but most importantly, your destination: the movie theater. You swing your feet out as you drift over the peak, releasing the pedals, letting gravity take over as you plummet downhill as fast as a rocket. As you near the theater, you apply the brakes, slowing yourself to a more reasonable pace as you ride up onto the sidewalk. Outside the entrance sits your best friend, Valerie; she looks up as you approach, giving you a friendly wave.

“Finally, there you are,” she tells you with a grin as you hop off your bike and park it at the rack. “Let's go get our tickets.”

You start walking toward the ticket booth together, when a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

“Valerie! Y/n!”

You turn around, spotting a group of boys hanging out in the alley - it's your classmates, Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan. You frown, glancing sideways at Valerie, but she's already skipping over toward them. You don't particularly care for these three, but it's no secret that she has a huge crush on Seungcheol. Reluctantly, you follow.

“Hi boys,” she says as you two approach the alleyway, practically batting her eyelashes at Cheol. “What are you all doing here?”

Joshua beckons to the both of you with a mischievous grin on his face. “Come over here, look what Jeonghan’s got.”

As you step into the alley, Jeonghan reaches into his pocket. With a smirk, he pulls out a very crushed box of Marlboros. He opens the flap to reveal two cigarettes inside; he takes one out, holding the filter awkwardly between his forefinger and thumb.

“Stole these from my dad,” he informs you proudly. You stare dully back at him, unamused.

“Gimme the lighter,” he says to Joshua, holding his free hand out demandingly. Joshua reaches into the breast pocket of his jean jacket, retrieving a worn silver zippo and setting it in Jeonghan’s open palm. He flicks the lid open with his thumb as he places the cigarette to his lips. Snapping the wheel, the lighter ignites - but is immediately extinguished by a gust of cold wind.

“You have to put your hand over it, dipshit,” Seungcheol says as he tries to snatch the zippo, but Jeonghan quickly blocks him with his elbow.

“Ouch!” Cheol whines.

“Shut up, I got this,” Jeonghan gripes, flicking the lighter open again. He raises the flame to the unlit end, this time blocking the wind with his other hand. The paper catches, glowing orange as he inhales - taking far too long of a drag. A coughing fit hits him, turning away as his poor unprepared lungs try to expel the smoke. Cheol rolls his eyes.

“Gimme that,” he snaps as he whisks the cigarette from Jeonghan’s fingers. He places it to his lips, taking a far more careful drag than Jeonghan did, but it’s still too much. With a harsh cough, he quickly rids himself of the cigarette by shoving it into Joshua’s hands. Unbothered by his friends’ current state, he pretends to take a drag, exhaling nothing as he shakes his head at the other two coughing boys.

“You guys are stupid,” he scorns. He turns, offering the cig to you and Valerie. Val stares at Cheol and Jeonghan, still coughing, a mildly disgusted expression on her face.

“No, thank you,” she tells him, waving her hand in dismissal of the cigarette. Joshua shrugs, pretending to take another drag, but this time he accidentally inhales. He tries to stifle the cough that hits him this time, to no avail. With a grimace, he tosses the half-burnt cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with a few stomps.

“So,” Seungcheol says as he rejoins the group, dragging Jeonghan by the arm, pretending like he didn’t just completely embarrass himself. “What movie are you guys going to see?”

“We’re seeing Grease,” you answer, causing the boys to snicker.

“Lame,” Joshua replies. You shoot a glare back at him.

“We’re seeing Halloween,” he continues. “But I guess that movie isn’t for girls.”

“Oh, please,” Valerie scoffs. “Girls can see any movie that boys can.”

“Yeah right,” Cheol taunts her. “It’s too scary, you would run away crying.”

“Nuh-uh!” Valerie exclaims, stamping her foot into the ground. “We’re no scaredy cats.”

“Prove it,” Jeonghan says smugly. “Come see Halloween with us.”

“We don’t want to see Halloween,” you reject. “We want to see Grease.”

“Okay, scaredy cat. I double-dog dare you.”

“We’ll do it,” Valerie answers Jeonghan before you can say another word. You turn, giving her a frown, but she’s too immersed in gazing at Cheol to notice your disapproval.

“Alright!” Seungcheol bursts out, punching his fist in the air. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

The three boys take off, racing back to the main street toward the theater. Valerie starts to follow them, but you tug on her arm.

“Do you really want to see Halloween?” you question - but you already know the answer.

“No,” she admits, crossing her arms and looking down at the ground. “But I want Seungcheol to like me. And I don’t think he’ll ever ask me out if I chicken out now.”

You don’t think that’s true, but you also don’t really want to get into the inner workings of how teenage boys operate right now.

“Alright,” you concede, linking your arm with hers as you head toward the theater. “Besides, it can’t be that scary, right?”

It was, in fact, that scary.

You’re deeply embarrassed, but so are the boys. You may have screamed and cried for most of the movie, but they were no better. Jeonghan flew out of his seat with every jumpscare, Seungcheol was on the floor hiding for half of it, and Joshua was pretending not to be scared, but he had his eyes shut tight the whole time. Valerie was just as scared as you were, but her plan to catch Seungcheol’s eye was apparently successful. They walked out of the theater side by side, giggling together. You don’t bother hiding your displeasure, walking behind them grimacing at the back of Seungcheol’s dumb head. Joshua departs from the group, taking off running in the direction of his house without a word. Now with no one else to bug, Jeonghan makes his way over to you.

“That was awesome, huh?” he says with a stupid grin you wish you could slap off his face.

“Right, that’s why you cried four times.” You catch the sight of Joshua’s back in the distance - he’s two blocks away now and still running at top speed.

“Did not! It was only three.”

“Whatever,” you remark, still distracted by a sprinting Joshua. He turns the corner onto his street, out of your line of sight. You focus your attention back to Jeonghan, who is now startlingly close to you. You’re a good two inches taller than him, so he has to look up at you - and the look he has on his face now makes you nervous.

“So,” he starts, nudging his elbow into your arm. “Wanna go grab a soda?”

You stare at him, blindsided by his sudden change of attitude towards you. Where did this come from?

“What?”

“Do you want to go grab a soda with me?” he repeats.

“No, I heard you,” you tell him with a puzzled look on your face. “I mean, are you asking me out?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan nods coolly. “I am. Figured it was about time.”

“About time?? What exactly does that mean?”

“Come on, y/n,” he tells you, the stupid grin back on his face. “Everybody knows you like me.”

You stop in your tracks. Jeonghan turns back, facing you to see you stare at him incredulously.

“I do NOT ‘like you’. Not like that!” you snap, thoroughly annoyed. He smirks at your denial, irritating you further. “In fact,” you add, “I barely even like you at all.”

He chuckles, clearly not planning to believe you.

“Sure, whatever you say. Anyway, how about that soda?”

“You’re insufferable,” you retort with a glare before walking off.

“So is that a no?” you hear him ask behind you, but you ignore it. You head toward your parked bike, now sitting alone in the rack as Valerie and Cheol are nowhere to be seen. With a sigh you hoist your leg over the seat, ready to get the hell out of there. You take off, noticing Jeonghan still standing where you left him, watching you with a curious look on his face. He looks almost… sad? That can’t be right. For a moment you pause, wondering if you actually hurt his feelings. But then he winks at you, his lips curling back into that pretentious smirk. With an eye roll you pedal off into the street, your cheeks stinging once more as you ride into the cold wind.

What a lousy day, you think to yourself. If you never saw Jeonghan or his dumb friends again, it would be too soon.

🖭 Track 02: Jessie’s Girl – Rick Springfield

🎶 I wanna tell her that I love her, but the point is probably moot

[1982, Fall - Junior Year]

riiiiiiiiiiiiiing

Your head snaps up as the harsh bell resonates from the hallway. You squint your eyes closed again as the classroom lights are suddenly turned on, signalling the end to the school day and the end to whatever boring video your chemistry teacher had decided to play instead of teaching today. Stifling a yawn, you toss your books into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder as you sluggishly traipse out the classroom door. The buzzing hallways quickly wake you up, filled with chatter and commotion as students flock to their lockers and out the doors. You locate your own locker, mindlessly spinning the combination lock until the door opens with a clunk. You rummage through your belongings, grabbing the notebooks and textbooks you need for homework tonight. As you swing the door closed, a face materializes inches away from you.

“Shit!” you jump, before registering the face’s owner as your boyfriend, Joshua. You give him a swift shove - he dramatically pretends to fall against the wall of lockers. You roll your eyes as you start to walk away. Joshua quickly catches up, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as you exit the building.

“So,” he starts, grinning in a way that makes you immediately suspicious. “I had an idea.”

“Oh god,” you groan. “What is it now?”

“Aw come on, you never like my ideas,” he pouts.

“Yeah, because they’re always crazy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Last time you had a grand idea, Seungcheol had to go to the hospital to get stitches, and we got escorted home in a cop car,” you remind him. “I was grounded for weeks.”

“How was I supposed to know that construction site was off-limits?” he asks with feigned ignorance. You raise your eyebrow at him, unamused.

“Probably by the signs everywhere that said ‘DO NOT ENTER’.”

He shrugs it off. “Okay, you got me there. But I promise this time it’s nothing crazy.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“So, are you game?”

“Maybe,” you answer. “If you actually tell me what it is first.” He grins, the mischievous look on his face making you skeptical already.

“Just a small party. Jeonghan’s parents are out of town, so we’re gonna hang there.”

“And who’s all going?”

“Me, Cheol, Hannie obviously, Soonyoung… ya know, the usual suspects,” he replies. “Bring Val and anyone else who’s cool.”

“Alright, fine” you sigh. His face instantly lights up.

“Awesome! Party starts at 8:30.”

You stop walking, clutching onto his arm and turning him to face you.

“You promise it won’t get out of hand?”

He takes your hands in his, nodding earnestly.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Well that seems a little dramatic,” you pretend to scoff, but a smile peeks through. He grins back, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“See you there, then.”

“Truth.”

Val focuses on Joshua, waiting for his question. You think truth or dare is a stupid game, juvenile at best, but everybody always seems to want to play.

“Okay,” he replies to her smugly. “Who was your first kiss?”

Panic flashes through her eyes for a brief moment, but she plays it cool. You know her answer, and you know why she wouldn’t want to share. She pauses, pursing her lips, but Joshua is impatient.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he taunts. Her eyes flicker around the room, glancing at Cheol, then at you, then back at Cheol.

“It’s okay babe, you can say it. I don’t mind,” Cheol assures her, lying.

You spot Soonyoung quietly getting up, ostensibly to grab another pop. Val sees him too, narrowing her eyes at his back.

“Fine,” she admits. “It was Soonyoung.”

“WHAT?!” Jeonghan exclaims, nearly doing a spit-take with his cup of Sprite.

“No way,” Joshua responds, smirking as he glances at Seungcheol, whose face is quickly turning cherry-red. He bites his lip, attempting to remain nonchalant - to no avail. Val inadvertently giggles at him, immediately clasping her hand over her mouth. Cheol glares at Soonyoung, who is halfway to the kitchen, giving a solid huff before he flies out of his seat - Soonyoung sees him and flees, but Cheol is faster. He tackles his friend through the doorway, followed by the sounds of several objects clanking against the floor.

“Hey!” Jeonghan yells after them. “Don’t trash the place you idiots!!” He saunters after them, making sure the two don’t actually break anything - household objects nor bones. As he disappears into the kitchen the doorbell rings.

“Are you expecting more people?” you ask, glancing at Joshua.

“Oh yeah I invited Mark - you know, from the basketball team,” he replies. “It’s probably him. Wanna get it, Val?”

“Not really,” she responds, staring dully at him. “But sure, I guess.”

She gets up and heads to answer the door, leaving you and Joshua alone in the living room. A big goofy grin spreads across his face as he slides over toward you, cornering you against the arm of the couch as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Finally, a moment of peace,” he tells you as he draws your face in close. A loud bang resonates from the kitchen.

“You know Seungcheol is kicking Soonyoung’s ass in the other room right now, right?”

“Eh, they’re fine.”

He presses his lips softly against yours, pulling your body in close and resting his hand upon your thigh. You kiss him back, butterflies in your stomach as you savor the rare moment of alone time with your boyfriend.

“Ahem.”

You jump, breaking this kiss to see Jeonghan standing in the doorway.

“If you must do that, get a room, will you?” he asks, clearly irked. You feel your face grow hot.

“Sorry,” you mumble. Joshua opens his mouth, ready to tell his friend off, but he’s interrupted by the newcomers entering the living room. You recognize Mark, but it appears he brought the entire basketball team with him - a large string of boys wander into the room, the sound of “Eye of the Tiger” filling the air as a particularly tall one carries in a boombox on his shoulder. Soonyoung and Seungcheol stumble back in, hair and clothes tussled, pretending like nothing just happened.

“Hey Mingi!” Soonyoung shouts gleefully to the tall boombox boy. “Turn that shit up!”

You cast a nervous glance at Joshua. “I didn’t think there would be this many people here,” you tell him.

“Relax, y/n, it’s okay,” he says with his usual cheery smile on his face. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping off the couch to greet the entourage.

You look around for Val, but she appears to have disappeared, probably off somewhere with Cheol. Soonyoung and Joshua are engaged in a passionate debate about who would win in a fight between Indiana Jones and E.T., for some reason. Aside from Mark, you don’t really know anybody on the basketball team, but he’s in the middle of an arm wrestling match anyway. Once again, you have nobody to talk to. Why does this always happen to me, you mope to yourself. Sighing, you stand up and make your way to the kitchen in search of another Coke. Any excuse to leave the room that is growing more chaotic by the moment.

The chatter and shouting is still audible from the kitchen, but it’s certainly much quieter. You head to the fridge, spotting Jeonghan already there. He notices you, turning his head and giving you a nod.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Hay is for horses,” you reply. He raises his brow at you, letting out a small laugh. He grabs a Coke from the fridge and hands it to you.

“Oh, thanks.” The can lets out a crisp hissss as you pop the tab.

“I didn’t know so many people would be coming,” you remark as you take a sip.

“Me neither,” he says with a concerned frown, glancing toward the noisy living room full of teenagers. A loud crashing noise echoes from amidst the crowd of people, followed by Soonyoung whooping loudly.

“Oh god,” Jeonghan grumbles. “I’m gonna be so grounded.”

“You should tell them to tone it down,” you suggest. “It’s your house after all.”

“No way,” he says as he shakes his head. “They’re gonna think I’m so lame.”

“Who cares?” you tell him.

He opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by an eruption of cheering. He wanders over to the doorway, peering out to see what the commotion is; you follow. There are even more people here than there were before, the living room now filled with even more jocks and a group of preps - all seniors - who appear to have brought several cases of beer.

“Shit,” Jeonghan mumbles under his breath, staring nervously at the crowd of high schoolers passing red solo cups filled with alcohol around the room.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, turning to look at him. He’s standing much closer to you than you realized, but with you both in the doorway you don’t have much room to back up without it being obvious. You notice for the first time that he has really long eyelashes, framing his eyes as they shift nervously around the chaotic scene.

One of the preppy girls bounces over to you two, holding out two cups of beer.

“Rad party, Jeonghan,” she smiles at him, handing him one of the drinks. To your surprise, he takes it. She turns to give the other drink to you, pausing to quickly look you up and down.

“And what’s your name again?”

“Y/n,” you tell her bluntly, not doing much to hide your annoyance at her attitude.

“Riiight,” she replies, her fake smile dropping. She gives up on trying to hand you the beer and turns back to Jeonghan, raising her cup to his before she takes a drink. Hesitantly, he raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip, trying his best not to make a face at the bitter taste. She stares at him for a moment before deciding that he is too lame for her. She gives him a soft “hm” of disapproval, and with a flip of her hair she turns and heads back to her snooty friends. Jeonghan looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die. He takes another swig of the beer, making another face as he stares into the pale yellow liquid in his cup.

“Are you really going to drink that?” you ask. He shrugs, still staring at the rowdy crowd of people in his parent’s living room.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles. “This is making me feel like I need a drink anyway.”

“Okay…” you reply skeptically. “Just be careful.”

He turns, making eye contact with you. He looks like he wants to say something, but he changes his mind.

“Yeah, I will,” he sighs.

You spend the rest of the night dodging people trying to give you beer. Joshua gets mildly drunk, coming to find you a few times to make sure you’re okay, but eventually he gets sucked into a heated and seemingly endless game of Uno. The party progresses more or less without issue - that is, until there is no more beer.

“Hey Yoon, you gonna bust out your parents’ alcohol stash for us or what?” one of the inebriated meathead jocks hollers across the room to Jeonghan, who is in the middle of putting on a new record. Fear flashes across his face.

“Yeah, break out the booze!” the mean girl from earlier shouts.

His eyes dart around the room, panickedly looking for one of his friends; his eyes land on you, silently begging you to help him. Not knowing what to do, you give him a solid nod before running off to find Seungcheol. If these drunk morons are going to listen to anyone, it’ll be him. You eventually find him off in a corner making out with Val.

“Hey,” you blurt out. Cheol turns to you, prepared to be mad at you for interrupting their makeout sesh, but he sees the concerned look on your face.

“What is it?” he asks sincerely.

“We have a problem.”

You frantically start to explain, but he quickly picks up the issue. He storms back toward the living room; you and Val follow, peeking around the corner.

“Alright, party’s over,” his voice booms through the room of drunken teens. The crowd starts to boo him.

“Come on Choi, don’t be a square,” one of the jocks shouts back at him.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!!!,” he screams. “NOW!!!!!!”

Begrudged murmurs ripple through the crowd, but everyone slowly begins to shuffle out.

“And none of you better be fucking driving!!” he adds.

He herds the last of the partygoers out, locking the door behind them. Joshua, having laid on the couch just a moment ago, is somehow already fast asleep. Jeonghan stares at him for a moment before settling for sitting on the floor, his back resting against the couch. He runs his hand through this hair, staring at the mess left behind by nearly half the school: solo cups littered around the room, empty cans carelessly tossed aside, spilled beer puddled upon every surface. And judging by the sour stench starting to reek, it’s soaked into the carpet too.

“This was a stupid idea,” he mumbles, holding his head in his hands.

“It’s not your fault,” you assure him, taking a seat on the floor next to him. “It wasn’t supposed to get this out of hand.”

“I should’ve known, though.” He sighs, letting out a disheartened laugh. “Things always go wrong for me.”

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you for a moment, but his gaze falls back to his shoes.

“I dunno, every time Joshua does something crazy it works out fine for him.” He nudges his head toward his sleeping friend on the couch above. “But when I try to have fun I always get in trouble.”

“Well, Joshua’s an idiot.”

“I heard that…” Joshua murmurs from the couch, before turning over and falling back asleep. An amused smile appears on Jeonghan’s face for a moment.

“Anyway, we’ll clean everything up,” you tell him. “It’ll be alright. It won’t take too long between the five of us - well, four. Actually… Where the hell is Soonyoung?” you ask Seungcheol as he walks back into the room.

“In the bathroom. With his head in the toilet.”

“Lovely. How much did he drink??”

“One beer.”

Jeonghan snorts. “How embarrassing.”

You chuckle under your breath. Jeonghan suddenly rises to his feet; you follow suit.

“What should we listen to while we clean?” he asks, heading over to the record player.

“How about AC/DC? ‘Have a Drink on Me’?,” you suggest. Jeonghan shoots you a look out of the corner of his eye, making Cheol giggle.

“No? Maybe some Judas Priest? ‘Breaking the Law’?”

He narrows his eyes at you, pretending to be irked, but the corners of his mouth twitch into a slight smile.

“How about no,” he retorts. Turning back to the stack of records, he pulls out a purple album. “Here, this should be good.”

He spins the vinyl in his hands before setting it on the turntable. He moves the needle into place - heavy synth notes fill the air as the familiar track begins, making you grin. Jeonghan disappears into the kitchen for a moment, returning with several trash bags and a roll of paper towels. He hands you a bag, then tosses the roll to Seungcheol.

“Right, well, let’s get to work.”

The sound of Prince singing ‘We’re gonna party like it’s 1999' plays as you start collecting the plethora of empty cans strewn about seemingly the entire house, Jeonghan joining you. You think it would be more efficient if he started on the other side of the room, instead of following behind you, but you keep it to yourself. Val makes a reappearance, looking only slightly queasy; she joins her boyfriend in wiping away the spilled drinks. You glance at your own boyfriend again, asleep on the couch still - and now snoring lightly. You let out a sigh that you don’t mean to be audible, but Jeonghan picks up on it.

“You okay?” he asks you sincerely.

You pause for a moment. Are you okay?? It's a question you've been asking yourself a lot recently. You do love Joshua, and even outside of dating him, he is a good friend. But, something has felt different lately - you can't quite put your finger on it, but things just haven't been the same. You feel a lump welling in the back of your throat, threatening tears. Now is not the time to overthink about your relationship - you decide to swallow your words before you get emotional.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, hoping he won’t prod further. He pauses, waiting in case you change your mind, but you go back to picking up cans in silence.

“Y/n,” he starts. His voice is soft, hesitant. You turn back to face him - you can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something he’s nervous to say.

“What is it?” you ask. He licks his lips, debating whether to tell you. With a deep exhale, he quickly shakes his head.

“There’s a can in that plant right next to you,” he says, pointing to the large potted palm. “Wasn’t sure if you saw it.”

You peek through the leaves - sure enough, a crushed Coors can lay crumpled atop the soil.

“Oh, thanks.” You pick it up and toss it in the trash bag, it landing upon the others with an unpleasant clanking sound. Over your shoulder you see Jeonghan still looking at you - you turn to look at him again, but he quickly occupies himself with the trash. He’s acting a bit odd, but you brush it off - he has had a shitty night, after all. You make your way across the room, joining Val as she sops up beer off the fine china cabinet. Still feeling eyes on your back, you glance toward Jeonghan, who is still looking at you, the expression on his face indecipherable. His focus on you is broken by Seungcheol joining him, handing him a cold can of Sprite.

“Here,” you say, turning toward Val. “Let me help.” She rips off a few paper towels and places them in your outstretched hand. You lean down to scrub the damp carpet.

Whatever Jeonghan’s problem is, you decide it’s not your business.

“Here you go.”

Jeonghan snaps out of staring at the back of your head, turning to his friend offering him a Sprite.

“Thanks, man,” he tells him sincerely. He barely had had any beer, but his head was already starting to ache. Nothing the sugar in an ice cold pop can’t handle, he thinks, though considering that he’s never had a drink in his life he’s not sure how he would know that. Regardless, the cold Sprite tastes delicious after the lousy night it’s been.

“What were you and y/n talking about?” Seungcheol asks. Jeonghan jumps slightly at the question, but he realizes he just was genuinely asking - he’s never told his best friend about his life-long crush on you, so why would Cheol be suspicious?

“Hm? Oh, nothing really,” he answers nonchalantly. “Just in disbelief of how much mess some teenagers can make in a couple hours.”

“You said it, dude,” Seungcheol agrees, face contorting into a disgusted expression as he realizes he's just picked up a used tissue with his bare hands. “Blech,” he gags as he chucks it into Jeonghan's trash bag. “That's nasty." He swiftly disappears into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Left momentarily alone, Jeonghan’s mind begins to wander. He stares at his other best friend, who’s passed out on the couch. He’s known Joshua pretty much his whole life - people even call them twins sometimes, due to how similar their personalities are. And they're not wrong, it doesn't bother him. But sometimes, if he starts thinking too much, he wonders why you ended up with Joshua and not him. It’s no secret that out of the two of them, Joshua is far more charming and socially adept. And besides, Joshua made his move first. He can’t blame him for that when he had spent his whole life too afraid to even talk to you. He knows it's a stupid thing to ruminate over - but he can't help it. I’m in love with my best friend’s girlfriend, he thinks to himself, and there's nothing I can do about it. He turns his gaze to you, eyes wistful as he watches you from across the room.

And why did I almost confess that to her just a moment ago?

🖭 Track 03: Take on Me – a-ha

🎶 Oh, I'll be comin' for your love, okay

[1983, Spring - Junior Year]

You shuffle through the gravelly school parking lot toward the brown Ford Pinto parked in its usual end spot. You yank the door open, startling Joshua and making him jump so high he bonks his head upon the carpeted roof. You plop into the passenger seat and slam the door shut behind you, letting out a loud sigh as you let your backpack slide to the floor. Joshua stares at you for a moment, rubbing his head. You stare back at him, neither one of you wanting to break the silence first, but you don’t have the patience today.

“So, are you going to actually talk to me now?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, thinking over his answer. For once, you think to yourself.

“I’m sorry, y/n, really,” he finally responds. “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose.”

“So you admit it, you were ignoring me then,” you point out.

Realizing he’s already made a mistake, his shoulders drop as he sinks into the seat. He rests his left wrist atop the steering wheel as he stares at nothing in particular through the windshield.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” he tells you downheartedly. Your stomach sinks - you know exactly where this is going.

“Just say it, Joshua.”

Sheepishly he looks back to you, his face apologetic.

“I think we should break up.”

Even though you had mentally prepared for this moment, it still hurts. You turn away, leaning your head against the window as you stare off into the distance - you told yourself you weren’t going to cry, but your eyes start to water anyway. You take a deep breath, shoving the tears back down, but you still can’t look him in the eyes.

“Okay.”

He pauses, waiting for you to go on, but you say nothing.

“So it’s mutual, then?” he asks quietly. You nod, still staring out the window. He lets out a sigh, somewhat relieved, but mostly melancholy. You both knew this was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Can we still be friends?”

Your attention shifts, bringing your gaze back into the car. You turn, making eye contact with him. He seems nervous - he’s been avoiding this very conversation for fear of tearing the friend group apart. It’s the last thing he wants to happen, but he didn't know how you would feel about it.

“Yeah,” you answer, mustering up a slight smile. “Of course.”

His head drops back against the headrest, a massive weight lifting from his shoulders.

“Oh thank god,” he says with a deep exhale. The edges of your lips twitch into a slight grin as you try not to laugh at his reaction. But you too are relieved.

He sits back up, reaching for the ignition. With a turn of the key, the dated car whirrs to life with a series of mildly concerning noises.

“Need a ride home?”

“I’m gonna walk over to the library, actually,” you tell him as you pop the door latch and hop out of the car. That went much better than expected, but you still need to get the hell out of there. Grabbing your backpack, you go to give him the usual ‘love ya’, but you catch yourself. You stare at him blankly for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

“Well, see you later then,” is what you land on; it comes out a bit too formally.

“See you later.”

You walk past the car and toward the main street. The library was an excuse, but you decide to head there anyway. Joshua watches you walk away for a bit, wondering if you’ll turn back around, but you don’t.

The last few months of junior year dragged on for what felt like an eternity. Like you both agreed, you and Joshua remained friends, and thus the friend group was saved. But, that didn’t stop things from being a bit weird. Nobody really knew what to do about it, but everyone reached an unspoken agreement to pretend like nothing happened. It was fine, for the most part, but you still found yourself avoiding Joshua at all costs. It ended up being pretty easy, as he was also avoiding you, and just spending noticeably less time with the whole group in general. Seungcheol and Val were still connected at the hip, of course. So, in a strange turn of events, you started hanging out with Jeonghan on the regular.

It was a little odd at first - not uncomfortable, you’ve known him your whole life, so spending one-on-one time with him was no biggie. But the frequency of you hanging out together, just you and him - that was certainly new.

One of the first new Jeonghan-related discoveries you made was that you have a hobby in common: Legos.

You didn’t really know anyone else who built Lego sets except for nerdiest kids in school, so it was information you generally kept to yourself, in the interest of not being made fun of. But one day, you make an off-hand comment about it.

Jeonghan’s face perks up, looking up at you from across the table. You’re currently in the mall food court, sharing a large serving of greasy french fries.

“You like Legos?” he asks, eyes wide as saucers. You shrug at him.

“Yup,” you reply nonchalantly. “Surprise, I’m a huge nerd.”

He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table as he gets closer to you, a smirk painted across his face.

“I fucking love Legos,” he mutters under his breath.

And so, you end up in Jeonghan’s bedroom for the first time.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, you let him show you his favorites builds out of the dozens of completed sets on display around the room. You note the large pile of books on the floor, cleared out from the bookshelf to make space for even more Legos.

In the middle of telling you all about the Surface Rover set in his hands, he pauses, having suddenly become self-conscious of just how long he’s been talking.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m probably boring you.”

“No no,” you pipe up, “These are so cool.” You smile at him reassuringly, making the mistake of direct eye contact. He stares at you through dark, pretty eyelashes, with an intensity that makes your stomach do a flip. It lingers for a moment, until he fully processes what is happening - he panics, staring at you with eyes even rounder than usual, before speedily looking down at the spacecraft in his hand. He occupies himself by fiddling with one of the tiny pieces, clicking it off and on several times.

“Um, so,” he says as he places the ship back on its shelf. “What do you wanna do now?”

You’d already spent the whole afternoon with Jeonghan at the mall, and normally you would’ve gone home by now. You’ve never spent this much time with him - with just him - at once before.

“Um, I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully. You shift upon the bed, drawing your legs up to sit criss-cross applesauce. Jeonghan stands there awkwardly for a moment, empty-handed and not sure what to do next either. His eyes drift around the room, searching for quite literally anything to talk about. They light up as he spots a shoebox over on his desk, a grin spreading across his face.

“Wanna see something?”

“What kind of something?” you inquire, but he already has the box in hand. He makes his way to join you on the bed, plopping down right next to you - so close that his outer thigh brushes against your knee. You wait for him to scoot back a bit, but he doesn’t. He opens the shoebox, revealing a jumbled collection of old polaroids. He flips through them until he finds what he’s looking for. He picks up the photo, giggling at it for a second before handing it over. Taking it from him, you see a photo of some little kids at what you can only assume is a birthday party, based on the pointy hats and cake slices. A clown poses behind the kids, holding a balloon animal with a big goofy expression on his face - much to the chagrin of the girl on the right, who is in tears. You stare at it for a moment before it registers.

“Hey!” you exclaim, making Jeonghan burst out laughing.

“Look at your face,” he teases, pointing to the girl in the photo. “You HATED that clown.”

“Yeah, and I still hate clowns to this day because of him!!” you pout, shoving him in the arm.

“Well that’s just rude. He was a very nice man.”

“Well, look at your stupid face!” you stammer back. “You got frosting all over yourself like an idiot.”

“You can’t be mean to me, it was my birthday!”

“Yeah, like a million years ago,” you say, rolling your eyes at him, but you crack a smile as you laugh.

“Here,” you say as you hand it back to him. “Take it away.”

“You can keep it.”

“Why on earth would I want this?”

“You’re right, let me keep it,” he says as he reaches for the polaroid. “That way I can show everybody at school.”

“On second thought, I will keep it,” you respond, drawing the photo back out of his reach - but not before he leans over onto you trying to snatch it from your hand. He leans so far that he loses balance, nearly tipping over entirely onto you. His hand falls upon your thigh to catch himself.

Time seems to go in slow-mo as he glances up at you, a big devious smile lighting up his face; he makes eye contact with you again, this time so close so very close oh my god, his face mere inches from yours. His grin begins to fade as he realizes just how close he is to you right now, the expression of pure joy on his face shifting into one of equal parts terror and mesmerization.

And as suddenly as it happened - the moment is gone.

Jeonghan sits back up, retracting his hands into his lap, pretending to be very interested in a mysterious dark stain on the carpet. You unfold your legs, swinging your feet back down to the floor.

“I should probably get going,” you announce as you hop up off of the bed. “I promised my mom I’d be home by dinnertime.” You pick your backpack up off the floor and sling it over one shoulder, turning around to say goodbye.

“See you later, alligator.”

He smiles at you softly, giving you a playful salute.

“After while, crocodile.”

[1983, Summer Break]

“Okay, now which character do you think you’re most similar to?”

Harsh sunlight greets your eyes as you step out of the cool, dim theater into the stuffy summer heat. Jeonghan slurps the last of his Sprite from the plastic theater cup, tossing the empty drink at a nearby trash can, which he completely misses. He scurries after the cup as it starts to roll down the sidewalk; snatching it up, he walks humbly back to the trash and carefully places it in the bin. Rejoining you, he gives you an expectant look, waiting for your response to his question.

“Hmm,” you reply as you rack your brain for names of Star Wars characters. Jeonghan rented the first two movies and forced you to watch them with him before Return of the Jedi came out so he could drag you to go see it with him. You didn’t mind the films, you actually ended up liking them a lot more than you expected, but there were just TOO many characters to keep track of.

“I don’t know. Princess Leia, I suppose?”

“No way,” he immediately rejects, shaking his head. “You’re not that cool.”

“Umm, rude much??”

He snickers, amused with himself as usual. For a long time, you thought Jeonghan was a real tool, considering that he seemed to constantly be insulting you. But as you grew closer to him, you realized that’s just what he does - the more he makes fun of you, the more he likes you.

“Okay dumbass, which character do you think you are? Let’s hear it.”

“Han Solo,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Pshhh,” you scoff at him. “Yeah right.”

“He’s cool, sarcastic, gets in trouble sometimes,” he explains. “An independent guy that doesn’t like being told what to do. Sound familiar?”

“Okay, fine,” you concede. “You’re definitely not that cool, but I’ll accept it.”

“And since I’m Han Solo, that means you’re Chewbacca.”

“WHAT?” you shout, much louder than you meant to. “I can accept being uncool, but I don’t want to be a big, hairy monster!”

“He’s not a monster,” he corrects you. “He’s a good guy!”

“Yeah, who’s big and hairy!”

“Hey now, don’t judge a book by its cover.”

You roll your eyes at him, a reaction you swear happens no fewer than fifteen times a day.

“You’re an idiot. Have I told you that?”

“Frequently,” he nods, giving you a proud grin.

You continue to banter as you walk back to Jeonghan’s car. The light blue ‘73 Mustang sits parked at the meter, sun reflecting off the windows. Since you don’t have your license yet, Jeonghan drives you pretty much everywhere these days. You secretly really like the car, and it actually makes your dork of a friend seem cool, but you refuse to ever tell him that. The ego boost it would give him would be insufferable.

“So, where to now?” he asks as you hop in his ride. He turns the ignition, the sporty engine rumbling to life.

“I should be heading home, actually,” you reply. His smile drops slightly for a moment, but he shakes it off.

“Already?” he protests, but he shifts the car into gear and takes off.

“I have to go to dinner with my family for my grandpa’s birthday.”

“Oh, nice,” he responds, but you can tell he’s a bit disappointed.

The rest of the ride is mostly silent, but not in an awkward way. That’s one thing you appreciate about Jeonghan - hanging out with him is comfortable enough that you don’t feel obligated to make small talk.

The car rolls to a stop as you arrive at your house. Although you live only a few houses apart, Jeonghan insists on driving past his home to drop you off in front of yours. “Don’t want you to get lost,” he always jokes.

“Wait,” Jeonghan calls out as you go to open the car door. You pause, hand on the door handle, as he pulls a cassette tape from the pocket of his cutoff jean shorts. Weird, considering that he normally just tosses his cassette tapes onto the dashboard, where they live until he brakes too hard and some of them slide off and land on the floor. He extends his hand to you, prompting you to take the tape.

“What is this?” you ask as you reach for the plastic case.

“A cassette tape,” he answers matter-of-factly. You whack him on the arm; he gives you a big grin.

“Alright, fine. It’s a mixtape.”

You look down at the clear case. On the paper insert, you see a tracklist - written neatly with a ballpoint pen. You recognize Jeonghan’s handwriting.

“What’s this for?” you ask, turning your head to look at him again. He shrugs.

“Just because.”

You stare at him for a moment. You’ve known Jeonghan long enough to know he doesn’t do things just because. You scan his face for a hint of ulterior motive, but he seems genuine.

“Oh,” you finally say. You’re still confused, but you don’t want to come off as rude, so you give him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” he replies coolly, his eyes lingering on you. Several more seconds of silence pass. He looks like he has something else to say, but he doesn’t. The car suddenly feels way too small.

“Okay, well, see ya later!” you say quickly as you pop the door open and hop out onto the sidewalk. Jeonghan gives you a wave as you shut the door - you turn around and quickly head inside.

Heading up to your room, you take a look at the tape again. Every song on the tracklist is one of your favorites. How did he know I like all of these? you ponder. You grab the Walkman sitting on your desk and go to insert the tape, but you pause. For some reason, it makes you nervous, as if listening to it will force you to think about your feelings about Jeonghan…

Shaking your head, you set the Walkman down, placing the cassette case on top of it.

Later, you tell yourself. I’ll listen to it later.

brrrrriiiiinggg

The sound of the telephone resonates through your headphones, bleeding over your music. You pause the tape and slide your headphones down onto your shoulders, listening to it ring a couple times before somebody elsewhere in the house picks up the line. A few seconds later, you hear your mom shout from downstairs.

“Y/n! It’s for you!”

You reach for the phone across your desk and pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“You’re back from dinner?” you hear Jeonghan ask.

“Well… Duh. How else would I be answering the phone?”

“Good,” he continues, disregarding your sarcastic comment - a rare occurrence for him. “Meet me at the playground in 15 minutes.”

“What? Why-” but the line clicks as he hangs up. Confused, you stare down at the receiver for a minute, the sound of the dull, steady tone filling your ears. You place the handset back on the base, jumping off your bed and grabbing your sneakers. You take a moment to shove some pillows under the covers before turning the light off. Quietly, you open your bedroom window and squeeze yourself out onto the roof, carefully stepping onto the branch that leads to the treehouse in your backyard. You climb down its ladder and drop to your feet silently upon the grass. You sneak out the side gate and head toward the neighborhood playground a few blocks away.

As you arrive, you see a figure with familiar long dark hair sitting on one of the swings. Your feet crunch on the gravel as you walk over to join him, making him turn his head.

“Hey,” you say as you sit on the swing next to his.

“Hey,” he replies.

Your toes brush against the ground beneath you, further displacing the gravel that has already been cleared away from swing usage. The light wind against your back pushes you slightly; you let yourself drift back and forth. You look at Jeonghan, waiting for an explanation.

“So?” you prompt. “What’s up?”

He bites his lip, staring off into the distance as he thinks over his words for a moment. Shaking his head, he looks back to you, eyes locking with yours.

“I like you.”

He says it so nonchalantly that it takes a few moments for you to register what he just said.

“What?”

“I like you,” he repeats. “Like, like like you. More than just a friend.”

Dumbstruck, you stare at him, lips parted ready to respond, but words escape you. Truthfully, you’re not even all that surprised by what he said - but his directness threw you for a loop.

“And I need to know how you feel, or I’m gonna lose my marbles.”

“I…” you start, but your words trail off as your mind wanders, thinking a million miles a minute.

“Even if you don’t like me back,” he adds. “We can still be friends and I’ll never bring it up again. Or if you don’t want to still be friends, I’ll respect that. I just have to know.”

“You’re right, we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” You can see his heart sink, but before he can say anything you reach over and grab the chain of his swing, drawing him toward you.

“I mean, we shouldn’t be just friends anymore.”

His face is close to yours, so close; you watch as the gears turn in his head, your words finally clicking. His eyes light up, a big cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“You little…”

You giggle, then lean in and kiss him.

🖭 Track 04: What I Like About You – The Romantics

🎶 Tell me I'm the only one / Wanna come over tonight, yeah

[1983, Fall - Senior Year]

The crowd erupts in a roar of cheering as the home team scores a touchdown, or so you presume. You’re currently a bit busy, making out with Jeonghan under the bleachers.

He stops kissing you for a second, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he locks eyes with you.

“Should I give you your birthday gift now?” he inquires, his lips pressing lightly against your nose.

“That tickles!” you giggle, pushing him away playfully, but he quickly draws you back into his arms.

“You already gave me my present, dummy,” you remind him, referring to the new Star Wars Lego set he gave you three days ago on your actual birthday. You’d had your eyes on it for a while, but it was expensive, so you were planning to save up for it, but he knew how badly you wanted it and decided to surprise you.

“I gave you one of your presents. But I have another one,” he informs you.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything else.”

“Hey, you only turn eighteen once,” he says with a shrug.

“Alright then, what is it?” you ask, smiling at him cutely.

“Can’t tell you.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“Ooookay…”

“I have to show you.”

He grabs your hand, dragging you back toward the hole in the fence where you snuck into the bleachers.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

He takes you back to his car, driving out of the stadium parking lot into the dark night. He drives for a while, winding down various backroads, taking you god knows where.

“Are we there yet?”

“Not yet.”

You wait a few seconds before pestering him again.

“How about now?”

“Patience, babe.” He reaches his right hand over, resting it on top of your thigh. Your stomach flutters - it��s not like this is the first time he’s touched you like this, but something about it feels different tonight.

The trees seem to get more and more dense the further you drive. You trust your boyfriend, but it’s still a little spooky. Eventually, he pulls up to a clearing, shifting the car into park. You look around, but you still don’t see anything but trees.

“We’re here!” he says cheerfully. You stare at him suspiciously.

“And where exactly is ‘here’?” you inquire, but he’s already hopping out of the car. He makes his way over to the passenger side, opening your door and offering his hand. You take it, letting him help you out of the car, but you’re still a bit wary. He laces his fingers between yours, dragging you along into the trees.

“Watch your step,” he tells you as you come across a large tree root protruding into the path. As you step over it, you hear rustling up ahead, accompanied by the faint smell of smoke.

“Jeonghan…” you whisper nervously.

“Almost there, darling,” he responds, looking at you fondly. You see a break in the trees ahead - as you approach, you hear the soft splashing of water, and the orange glow of a bonfire comes into view.

“The lake? Why are we at the la-”

“SURPRISE!!!!!!”

You jump, startled by the choir of voices shouting at you all at once as the familiar faces of all your friends pop out all around you.

“SHIT,” you scream, instinctively clinging to Jeonghan. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you into him. You whack him in the stomach, but a big grin spreads across your face.

“You did all of this? Just for me?”

“Just for you,” he replies, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

Music starts to blare from a boombox as your friends swarm around you, hooting and hollering as the party begins. Somebody hands you a beer; Jeonghan has also acquired one - he raises his bottle to yours with a clink.

“Happy birthday, y/n.”

The party goes late into the night. Jeonghan had thought of everything: snacks, pizza, beer, balloons, and even smores. You sit around the bonfire, roasting a marshmallow and chatting with the few remaining partygoers - most people had headed out by now, it was almost midnight after all.

“Hey,” Jeonghan speaks softly as he appears next to you, scooting in close and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Hiii,” you say, the big goofy grin on your face giving away that you’re decently buzzed right now.

“How was the party?”

“It was perfect,” you tell him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Good,” he replies proudly. “I’m glad you liked it.” His fingers raise to your chin, lifting your face up toward him, planting his lips on yours in a soft kiss. As he draws his head back, a smirk grows upon his face.

“What?” you ask.

“Your marshmallow is on fire.”

Whipping your head back toward the bonfire, you see the giant marshmallow at the end of your stick engulfed in flames.

“Oh fuck!”

Giggling, he takes the stick from your hand and pulls the blackened sugar remnants out of the heart of the fire, shaking it a bit until it extinguishes.

“Man,” you pout, “I was looking forward to eating that.”

“Here, I’ll get you another one.”

Several lightly toasted marshmallows later, the last of your friends start to roll out. Seungcheol and Jeonghan put out the now-dwindling bonfire, the lakeside going dark in the absence of the flames. Everybody packs up, saying their goodbyes and driving off back into town. Finally, it’s just you and Jeonghan remaining. You start to head to his car, but he doesn’t follow.

“You coming or what?” you call, taking his hand, but he pulls you back toward him.

“Wanna do one last thing?” he asks, a smirk growing upon his face.

“Oh god,” you groan, looking at him skeptically. “What are you up to now?”

Saying nothing, he bolts off back toward the lake.

“Hey!!” you shout, jogging after him. He peels his shirt off as he speeds off, tossing it aside, running onto the old dock protruding out into the dark water. He reaches the end, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them off, along with his socks and shoes in one fell swoop.

“Jeonghan Yoon, what the hell are you doing?!”

Standing there buck-ass naked, he looks back at you over his shoulder. He gives you a devious grin, then dives into the lake.

He surfaces as you reach the end of the dock, his long dark hair laying drenched against his face. He sweeps his hair back out of his face, eyes wide with rushing adrenaline.

“You coming in? The water’s nice!” he hollers, treading water to stay afloat.

“Is it really?” you ask, reaching down to dip your fingertips in the water.

“No, it’s fucking freezing,” he tells you truthfully, laughing like a maniac. Sure enough, the cold instantly stings against your skin as you drag your hand across the surface.

“You’re out of your mind,” you yell as he swims out further into the lake.

“Here, I’ll turn around. I won’t even look.” Sure enough, he twirls around in the water, facing away from you.

“That’s not why… Jeonghan it’s cold!!”

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” he shouts, barely audible as his voice carries across the lake. “I promise.”

You think about it for a moment. Fuck it, you decide. You take off your shoes and clothes, all the hair on your body standing up in the chilly air. Slowly, you slip your bra and panties off, crossing your arms over your cold breasts. You step up to the edge of the dock, your toes hanging off the wooden plank, staring down into the pitch black water beneath you. Your mind races, but you know if you stand here thinking about it much longer, you’ll talk yourself out of it. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and jump.

The frigid water hits your skin like knives as you plunge into the lake. You kick your legs, hurtling yourself back up to the surface. You gasp as you break into the night air once more, starting to doggy paddle to keep yourself afloat.

“Yeah!!!” you hear your boyfriend cheer in the distance. You spot him as he starts swimming back, water splashing calmly around him as he glides toward you. He swims directly into you, throwing his arms around you and kissing you.

“Hey, I’m trying to stay afloat here you moron!” you shout as you push him away, but you’re laughing along with him. His gaze locks onto yours, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a huge smile plastered across his face.

You’re drenched, you're frozen, and you don’t even really like swimming in the first place. But here, tonight, with Jeonghan - you’ve never felt more carefree.

[1984, Winter - Senior Year]

“Babe, you awake?”

You open your eyes to Jeonghan’s ceiling. The sound of the newest Rush album playing on the stereo had apparently lulled you into a trance; you sit up on his bed, looking over at your boyfriend reclining in the large navy beanbag across the room. He’s laser-focused, eyes on the small television as he controls his Atari joystick.

“Hm?” you ask sleepily.

“I was asking if you were awake,” he repeats, smiling as his eyes are still glued to the screen. “But you answered my question for me.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you,” you tell him, stifling a yawn. “I was just really relaxed.”

The game gives a series of upbeat beeps and boops to indicate victory. Jeonghan sets the joystick down and turns the console off, getting up and making his way over to you. You scoot over on the bed to make room; he plops down, curling up beside you.

“So,” he starts, placing his arm gently around your waist, tracing his fingers along your side. His parents are gone for the weekend, so you finally get to spend some quality time together - alone.

“What do you wanna do now?”

You roll onto your side, situating yourself even closer to him, your body pressed against his. A smile slowly creeps onto his face. His hand lifts to your cheek, fingertips brushing against the soft skin lightly, making your heart flutter. He leans in, planting a delicate kiss upon your lips; your hand snakes around his waist, clinging to the side of his shirt as you kiss him back. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tight before pulling you over on top of him. The kiss breaks as you giggle; you gaze down at him, locking onto his dark brown eyes. Slowly, he slips his hands underneath your shirt, watching you carefully to make sure you’re okay with it. You grin at him, pressing your lips to his again. He grasps onto your skin, pressing himself against you as closely as possible as he makes out with you. He slides his hands further up your shirt, fingers grazing over the band of your bra. You stop kissing him for a moment; he looks up at you concernedly, nervous that he’s gone too far. You sit up, legs straddled around him, reaching for the hem of your top and slowly lifting it up and over your head. His eyes widen, staring at your body as you discard the shirt on the floor. He pulls his own shirt off, tossing it away, eyes still locked on your breasts. His hands trace up your stomach, eyes nearly bugging out his head as he slowly squeezes his hands over the cups of your bra, smiling like he’d just won the lottery. You lean back down, tucking your head next to his, lips hovering right next to his ear.

“You can keep going,” you whisper.

He reaches around your back, fingers finding the clasp of your bra and giving it a soft tug. With a snap of release it unhooks, straps slowly slipping off of your shoulders. Suddenly he flips you over, pulling the garment off as he rolls on top of you. He presses his hips into yours, admiring the sight of you. You reach for his belt, tugging gently on the waist of his jeans. He lets out an excited giggle, a huge grin spreading across his cheeks. Barely more than a whisper, he utters into your lips as he goes to kiss you again.

“I love you.”

🖭 Track 05: Tainted Love – Soft Cell

🎶 Once I ran to you (I ran) / Now I'll run from you

[1984, Spring - Senior Year]

“Jeonghan!” you call out cheerfully, waving to your boyfriend from the schoolyard bench as he exits the building - but he keeps walking. You assume he didn’t hear you, so you sling your backpack over your shoulder and hurry after him. As you approach you see he has headphones on, his Walkman clipped to his belt. You tap him on the arm, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He rips his headphones off, turning around at a startling speed.

“Oh,” he says when he sees your face. “It’s just you.”

“Glad to see you too,” you tease, expecting him to laugh back, but he just gives you a small, seemingly-forced smile.

“You okay?” you inquire, slightly concerned.

He hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head.

“Yeah no, I’m fine,” he says, fiddling with the headphones in his hands. “I was just zoned out. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you reply warmly. He doesn’t make eye contact, staring just past you instead. Your smile fades. You don’t know what, but something is up with him - and for whatever reason, he doesn’t seem to want to tell you about it. Not your favorite thing in the world, but you decide to drop it for now.

“So,” you start, changing the subject. “Seungcheol told me you got into NYU, I didn’t even know you applied! When did you find out?”

“Oh yeah. I got the letter, um… about a week ago.” He mumbles the end of his sentence as he glances down, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces.

“A week ago?” you ask with genuine surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t get the chance to yet,” he replies, but you both know it's a terrible fib.

“What do you mean? We were hanging out all weekend, dummy,” you say in a lighthearted tone, nudging him in the arm. But you are a little hurt to find out that he was keeping that information from you.

“I just… didn’t think of it,” he tells you. He runs his hand through his hair, giving you a sheeping smile. “Sorry babe,” he adds.

“Soooo…” you prompt, but he doesn’t answer your unspoken question.

“So… what?”

“Are you going to accept it?”

“Oh. Um, well I suppose I have to think about it.”

“Oh.”

You had talked casually about college numerous times, of course. You are seniors after all, it’s the only thing on everyone’s minds at this point in the school year. But all your conversations were had with the assumption that you were both going to Columbia - something you had both been planning on for years, even before you started dating. Since when had Jeonghan had a change of heart? Relax, you tell yourself. Just because he was accepted doesn’t mean he’s going to go there. But a sinister hunch lurks in the back of your mind.

He’s going to a different school because he’s planning to break up with you.

You force yourself to stop. You know you shouldn’t make any assumptions without at least talking to him first. But standing here, right in front of the school on a random Tuesday, doesn’t feel like the right place to have that conversation.

“Well,” Jeonghan pipes up before you can say anything else. “Speaking of the devil, I have to go meet Seungcheol. Says he needs me to fix his computer.” He gives you a cocky smirk. “Bet you five bucks it’s just not plugged in.”

He gives you a quick one-armed hug with a kiss on the cheek.

“Catch you later.”

“See ya,” you respond quietly, but he’s already walking off toward the parking lot.

The beefy Mustang engine roars to life as Jeonghan turns the ignition. He reaches for the first cassette he sees, inserting it into the tape deck and cranking the stereo volume. A melancholic tune blasts from the speakers as The Smiths begin to play, causing him to frown. As much as he likes this song, he doesn’t really want to listen to “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want” right now. But he doesn’t have the energy to search for a different tape right now, so it is what it is.

He stares out into the schoolyard, mindlessly watching some jocks throw a football back and forth. But they evidently get bored of that and head over to the group of cheerleaders, a couple of the girls practically throwing themselves at their boyfriends - one couple even starts to make out right there, tongue and all. Jeonghan grimaces, throwing the transmission into reverse and quickly backing the fuck out of the parking spot.

The drive home consists of more sad songs and too much thinking. He knows he should have told you about the letter sooner. He was waiting to find the right time, the right way to say it - but he should’ve known better than to tell Seungcheol if he wanted to keep it a secret. He didn’t blame Cheol, because he hasn’t even told his best friend yet that he has to break up with you.

A car honking snaps him out of the pensive trance he didn’t realize he had entered. He glances up at the stoplight, discovering that it had in fact turned green. He shifts the car into gear and takes off, trying to think about literally anything else - but he can’t get his mind off of you. He is painfully aware that he’s being a fucking idiot. He’s in love with you. Hell, he can’t think about the future without you being there - but that’s the whole problem. Because as wonderful as you are, he simply doesn’t believe you feel the same way about him. He’s convinced himself going to college with you will only end up with you realizing that you can do so much better than him.

And that’s why he has to end things before you have the chance to break his heart.

[two weeks later]

The beating sun reflects off the sidewalk, hurting your eyes even as you sit on a shaded bench. It’s not particularly hot, but the cloudless spring day sure is making you wish you had brought some sunglasses with you. You close your eyes, slumping further into the bench as you wait. And wait. And wait. But Jeonghan doesn’t show.

Maybe he just genuinely forgot, but that’s what you thought the first time. And the second time. But this is the third fucking time he’s stood you up. You had a suspicion he’d been avoiding you, and by now he’s all but confirmed it.

Finally, you detect the familiar rumble of a Mustang engine approaching. You open your eyes, spotting the blue vehicle speeding into the parking lot. Its brakes squeal to a stop as the driver pulls up in front of the mall entrance. Sighing, you get up and shuffle over to the car, flinging the door open and plopping into the passenger seat.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan mumbles. You see him looking at you sheepishly out of the corner of your eye, but you don’t meet his gaze.

“You’re really late,” you say coldly, staring out the window at nothing. “What’s your excuse today?”

“I just lost track of time-”

“I’ve been waiting for you for AN HOUR,” you shoot back, turning your head to face him. “I could have walked home by now!”

He looks down, resting his hand upon the stick shift.

“I feel really bad, y/n, I’m really sorry.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

Sighing, he shifts the car into drive and takes off.

“Do you still want to go grab a bite?”

“I already ate. I want to go home.”

The drive back to your street is silent, with only the radio humming at a barely audible level. He pulls up in front of your house; you go to exit the car, but he reaches out for your arm.

“Wait,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against your skin. “Please.”

You look back at him - the apologetic look on his face is sincere, but that doesn’t make you any less upset.

“Jeonghan, you can’t keep doing shit like this. You’re acting like you don’t even want to be around me anymore.”

“No, babe, that’s not true-”

“Did I do something?”

“What?” he questions. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“I…” he sighs, staring back at the steering wheel. He shakes his head, his words trailing off. You wait for him to say something - anything - but he doesn’t.

“Fine,” you exhale, exasperated. “Call me when you’re ready to actually fucking talk to me.”

You throw open the car door, slamming it shut and storming off into the house. Your lip quivers, eyes watering as frustration swells in your chest, but you swallow it.

Jeonghan stares after you until you disappear through the door. He drops his head, burying his face in folded arms against the steering wheel. With a groan, he drives the remaining couple hundred feet and parks in his own driveway. He cranks the stereo up, “Love Will Tear Us Apart” blaring through the speakers - perhaps the worst possible song to be playing right now. He lets out a haughty laugh at the irony, laughter quickly turning into tears spilling from his eyes.

Nice going jackass, he chastises himself as anger wells within him. You’ve really fucked this up now.

Inside your bedroom, you throw yourself on your bed. You stare off into space, but there’s too much shit in your peripheral vision around the room that reminds you of him. You roll over, shoving your face into the pillow, letting out a dejected groan.

You don’t know what to do, so you just let yourself cry.

🖭 SIDE B coming soon - sign up for the taglist here

[ taglist: @miniseokminnies @kyeomiis @tinycatharsis ]

#lonelyheartscafecollab #jeonghan fics #svt fics #seventeen fics #svt x reader #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.

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iamgonnagetyouback · 2 months ago

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─── ⋆⋅☆ remus lupin

⁀➴ ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ

✰ ➵ angst ♡ ➵ fluff ୨ৎ ➵ funny

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader who is tired of him pushing her away. (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader where you somehow end up on a date with him and realize his true feelings towards you. (✰/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader who's too cold (♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader who tastes like cinammon and apples (♡)

⋆˚࿔ doctor!remus lupin x teacher!reader who gets pushed by her students (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader who dresses up as him and david bowie (♡)

⋆˚࿔ roommate!remus lupin x bookworm!reader where he acts like he hates you but still there are new books lying on your desk every day (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader where a push from peter might just be what remus needed to hold your hand (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader where the boys mess with the letter he wrote for you (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x reader who always falls sick on christmas (୨ৎ/♡)

⋆˚࿔ remus lupin x potter!reader where you both go on your first date (୨ৎ/♡)

BACK TO °˖➴ main masterlist┆marauders masterlist┆poly!marauders masterlist┆wolfstar masterlist

last updated ➳ 8.01.25

#dividers by chilumitos #dividers by strangergraphics #ivy's soft scribbles ೀ #remus lupin hurt/comfort #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x y/n

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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 11 months ago

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𝑬𝑩𝑰𝑬'𝑺 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

Hello, everyone!

First of all, before the list begins, I feel that I need to warn you that English isn't my first language, so might happen you find some writing/grammar mistakes, I also don't have a beta reader, again I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Most, if not all my fanfictions are 'x ofc/c', however, I write them as reader fics. That means that the only differences from a 'x reader' fic is that the character will have a name and the narration will be in the third person. But no details about the embodiment of the character will be given, with a few exceptions in a couple stories, but I'll be warning in the notes and warnings of the piece when that happens.

Also, I made this Google form, so you can tell me where you want to be tagged. That's all for now.

Enjoy :)

Update: ALL my fanfictions are on indeterminate hiatos. But, I'm not abandoning them, I promise 😘

Update #2: Some changes in the Masterlist, I'm reorganizing the whole thing to get a better view of what I'll be doing, hopefully I'll be able to post something soon.

𝔖𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔤 𝔇𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔅𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔢

𝐉𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒚𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩 𝔅𝔯𝔲̈𝔥𝔩

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐙𝐞𝐦𝐨

𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐨 𝐊𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐄𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐭

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑳𝒆𝒏𝒛 𝑴. 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒏

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓

𝑭𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐

𝔇𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔡 𝔇𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔞𝔫

𝐀𝐛𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 [𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐚-𝐃𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐧]

𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒅

ℌ𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥 | 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐭

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐡 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐊𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔰

𝔒ℭ'𝔰

𝑯𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒚 𝑮. 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘

𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔰

And that's it for now.

I'll make a separate post for each fanfic and one-shot, with the specs of genres and warnings.

𝑰𝑴𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑵𝑻!

These stories are 100% mine, that is, I created, started and will finish them the way they were planned within the proper time. That said, I do not consent anything originally posted on this blog being copied/pasted/translated/or any other form of reproduction, to any site other than here, on this blog, without my permission. In short, not even over my dead body.

Thank you in advance for your attention and I hope you enjoy these stories made with great care and effort.

Good reading!

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loki-cees-all · 4 months ago

Text

Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters.

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet.

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel.

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer.

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally.

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth.

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence.

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now.

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes.

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image.

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary.

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest.

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out.

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache.

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki.

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween?

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him.

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night.

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one.

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone.

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki.

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long.

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki.

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day.

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door.

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you.

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had.

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment.

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward.

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door.

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment.

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door.

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration.

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness.

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal.

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected.

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red.

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction.

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind.

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose.

They were David fucking Bowie’s.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone.

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how?

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down.

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth.

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been.

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there.

And the stars look very different today…

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence?

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here?

For here, am I sitting in a tin can?

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room.

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again.

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?”

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke.

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you.

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant.

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission.

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…”

“As you wish, darling.”

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor.

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been.

“As you wish, darling.”

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice.

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over.

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly.

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?”

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously.

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?”

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest.

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…”

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…”

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair.

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…”

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…”

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest.

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him.

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…”

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress.

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party.

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours.

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion.

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since.

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?”

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself.

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place.

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours.

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust.

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it.

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth.

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily.

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you.

You fucking loved it when he did that.

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second.

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them.

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went.

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him.

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction.

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space.

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….”

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand.

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him.

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs.

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you.

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him.

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?”

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack.

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?”

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway.

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine.

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back.

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple.

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday.

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…”

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?”

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes.

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?”

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…”

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted.

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare.

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics.

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast.

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him.

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next?

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him.

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake?

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home.

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…”

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest.

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.”

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…”

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.”

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment.

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…”

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity.

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?”

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat.

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.”

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room.

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway.

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door.

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality.

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up.

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him.

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling.

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party.

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled.

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?”

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you.

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…”

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?”

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…”

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?”

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it.

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…”

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…”

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were.

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself.

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?”

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?”

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek.

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!”

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?”

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed.

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?”

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…”

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.”

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work.

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense.

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering.

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…”

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips.

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ”

“Sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…”

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat.

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were.

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.”

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection.

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice.

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too.

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…”

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…”

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…”

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!”

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?”

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance.

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here.

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there.

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…”

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…”

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate.

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it?

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises.

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay.

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?”

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously.

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

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radioactiveparker · 11 months ago

Text

The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X Cheerleader!Reader (Mini Series)

Eddie Munson X Fem!Cheerleader!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Five high school students from different walks of life endure a Saturday detention under a power-hungry principal. Each has a chance to tell his or her story, making the others see them a little differently. And when the day ends, they question whether school will ever be the same. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Series Warnings: Enemies to lovers / All Characters Are 18+ / Strong Language / Sex References / Mentions of Abuse (physical and emotional) / Cheating / Bad Relationships / Dysfunctional Families / Arguing / Materialism / Kleptomania / Stereotyping / Sexual Orientations / Drug Use / Mentions of Alcohol / Smoking / Pyromania and Fire / References to Demonianism and Satanism / References to Religious Beliefs / Social Alienation / Angst / Hurt-Comfort / Use of Y/N (like once or twice) / Eddie is a complete asshole

A/N: This mini series is set in its own little world, so it does not follow the Stranger Things timeline, and I have taken some creative liberties with most characters. Yes, they are all still in high school (final year and 18+), and yes, some of the events don't match up - just forget everything you knew about Stranger Things, it's easier that way haha.

“...And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They’re quite aware of what they’re going through...” - David Bowie

Masterlist: (completed)

Part One - These Children That You Spit On

Part Two - Low Tolerance For Dehydration

Part Three - Hallway Vision

Part Four - Hand Over The Purse

Part Five - Don't You Forget About Me

Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn @peaches-roses-sins @lodeddiperrodrick @catherinnn @lilocapoca @minniedreamers @melaninjhs @chaosfrogsonfire @levylovegood @bowsforsienna @rcailleachcola @spookysace24

#the breakfast club #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson mini series #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson smut #enemies to lovers #eddie munson enemies to lovers #radioactiveparker #masterlist #radioactiveparker masterlist

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jasmines-library · 6 months ago

Note

Could u pls do a Winchester sister fic like (season 10 ep. 15) but instead of the parasite going into cole it goes into the sister and Dean tries to shock it out like in the episode but then she almost dies and they have to try and find another way

The Things They Carried

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word Count: 2284 (wow look at me go)

Warnings: Uhhh not sure how to phrase it. Overall gore, kinda throwing up?

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The woman had vanished without a trace. Well, at least at first. Her body was found strung upside down in the storage room of a remote part of the city Feyetteville, North Carolina. Perhaps one of the most perplexing parts of the victims disappearance, was that not only was she an Army Private, trained in Krav Maga and Jiu-Jitsu, but her organs had been drained, along with the bone marrow sucked out of her body. This is what had caught Dean’s attention. He now sat in front of you and Sam, the article pulled up on his ipad.

Sam raised his eyebrows, his forehead wrinkling as he studied the article once more before handing it off to you. “So…cannibalism. You thinking a Rugaru?”

“Or a God. Maybe.” Dean agreed. A second later he was up on his feet, ready to go. Sam tried to protest. Ever since Dean got the mark of Cain Sam has been solely focused on trying to find a way to remove it. He was constantly on edge and you had to admit you were too. It seemed that no amount of research seemed to give enough answers on the mark. Eventually, with a look from his older brother and a defeated sigh, Sam let up and not even 10 minutes later, the three of you were speeding down the road.

Much to your disappointment, when you arrived in the city the first thing the three of you were told was that the local police had closed the case. However, they had given you a name, and the incriminating evidence. The sheriff; an elderly man, perhaps late 60s with white, thinning hair, had also told you that the offender had also committed suicide before the feds could lock him up. He also told you that this was the third suicide the city had seen in the last 6 months. A pattern. This was definitely something supernatural, if that wasn’t already clear. However, when Sam asked about the body, the sheriff informed the three of you that there were no bite marks, and that the victim had been killed with a bowie knife. That ruled out a Rugaru, leaving your trail dry.

The next step of the hunt was to speak to Beth, the offender's widow. She was rather distraught as she bounced her baby softly in her arms. When she glanced away from it, you could see the pain in her eyes; the dark circles that rim them.

“Rick was a kind soul.” She insisted sadly, glancing down at the floor. The way she spoke of her late husband was filled with awe, but woven thick was pain that choked up her voice. You could tell that she still hadn’t processed her husband’s recent change in personality.

“Did you ever notice anything strange?” Sam asked gently, his fingers clasped together as he leaned against the countertop. “Violent mood swings?”

“Weird smells?” You added.

“No….” The woman frowned. “But Rick was- he was-” she stuttered, unable to word what she wanted to say correctly, almost as if she didn’t really believe it or understand it herself. “He was thirsty.”

You tilted your head at her, her words catching your interest. “Thirsty for what?”

Her answer surprised you. “Water. He’d spend half the day drinking from the garden hose. And then, when I told him to stop it was like he couldn’t even hear me. And his skin; it got so dry it bled.”

Your older brothers watched intently. “Did he see a doctor?” Dean questioned gruffly.

The poor woman shook her head. There were now soft tears rolling down her face, mingling with the ghosts of the ones there before. “He just got put on a list to be put on a list. And then he stopped talking. He just wasn't himself–” she sniffled, shifting her baby in her arms. “I thought….maybe it was just PTSD.”

No one said anything for a moment before you broke the silence tenderly. “We’re very sorry.”

“You said that Rick had been recently deployed.” Dean said. “Do you have any idea where?”

“No.” She answered rather bluntly. “That stuff’s classified. They don’t even let the wives in on it.”

And the trail runs cold again.

But then, just as you were about to leave and Sam left your number, Beth stopped you again.

“There’s one other thing.” she added. “I ran into my friend Jemma at the supermarket. She’s married to Kit Verson. A guy from Rick’s team. She thinks Kit came back different this time. Kind of felt like we were dealing with the same thing.”

The trail picks up again.

After a little while running around after Kit Verson, discovering that he murdered someone else the same way that his friend did, the three of you ended up in an old shack that his wife believed he might have fled to. It was dark. Eerily so. However not as eerie as the trail of dead mice on the floor. Machetties in hand and guns in holsters, the three of your crept through the darkness of the hut. You found him hunched over in the back room of the house. His breathing was rough and ragged as though he might have run a mile at top speed. When you reached out to touch his shoulder, his head whipped around, bloodshot eyes boring into you. His mouth and face was splattered with blood and dirt, and his movements were erratic as he stood up to face you. He gripped you tight, cold fingers like icicles against your skin as he pushed you back against the wall. And then his eyes were pleading with you. The harsh crease between his eyebrows softened for just a moment as he used his body weight to keep you pinned up against the wood panelling.

“I’m sorry,” he grunted out, wrestling with you to keep you in his grasp. “I can’t stop.”

And then, you were on the floor, dirty ground rising to meet you fast as he made you lose your footing. And then, as you struggled beneath him he made this awful gagging noise as the creature slithered out of his throat and forced its way into you. You coughed, gagging yourself as your brothers rushed into the room. They were on Kit in seconds, but he was strong, throwing your brothers around before dashing out of the door. Quick on his feet, Dean followed, leaving you staggering for breath on the floor with Sam.

“Are you alright?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he rushed to your side, helping you up off the floor.

You coughed. “Some-something’s inside of me–” a grimace spread across your face as you felt it move. “It’s alive–”

“It what?” Sam blinked. “What did it look like? Do you know what it was?”

“Khan worm.” Dean answered, catching on to the end of the conversation. “At Least i think it is. Why? Did you see it?”

You groaned in pain, so Sam answered for you. “It crawled inside her.”

Dean froze, his eyes going wide. “What?”

Sam nodded grimly.

“Did you see what it was? Dean asked worriedly.

You coughed, hands flying to your mouth. “Khan worm.”

“Shit.” Dean cursed aloud, running his hands through his hair.

“We have two options.” You said, trying to hide the grimace on your face as you felt the worm moving, ,crawling under your skin. Neither of the two options were very pleasant at all. You and your brothers had worked a case with Khan worms a few years ago and there were two ways that you discovered the worms could be killed. And while these worms seemed slightly different to the first ones you discovered, you figured that they were similar enough that the same rules would apply. The first option was probably the most forward one, but it also involved certain death; a headshot to the infected person that would cause the worm to flee the body where it would then be crushed by Sam or Dean. Option one was very clearly off the table. The second was far more painful, but it also harboured greater chances of survival.

Dean began to protest immediately. “No. No no. there’s got to be another way.”

“You know we dont-”

“Kid….” Sam started.

“Just do it. We have no other choice.”

Dean sighed, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright.”

Dean had managed to find two batteries hidden in the small cabin. He placed them grimly on the table with a thud before connecting two of the jump wires that Sam had gone and collected from Baby’s trunk. You were sitting in the armchair, fingers gripping the leather as you waited anxiously. Sam tried to give you some comforting words, but you weren’t sure who he was trying to comfort more; you or himself.

“Alright.” Dean said, his voice laced thick with an anxiousness and guilt he was yet to shake. He brought the cables over to you as you took a deep breath, placing a wooden spoon between your mouth to keep you from biting through your tongue.

Settling back in the chair, you took a moment to collect yourself. To prepare for the agony you were about to put yourself through. And then, you gave him a brief nod

The sudden pain when Dean pressed the jump cables to your skin was overwhelming. Unbearable. A million agonies all combined to one as the electricity raced through your veins. You screamed, crying out as your teeth bit down on the wood of the spoon, which helped to muffle the sound. Both of your brothers winced at the sound of your agony as you twisted and writhed. Sam had to look away and Dean had to force himself to keep the cables against your skin though he yearned to take away your pain. But nothing happened. As soon as your brother removed the cables, you were panting for breath, trying to recover quickly from the pain. You couldn’t help but notice the looks on your brother’s faces.

“Anything?”

Sam shook his head dismally. The parasite was still in you.

“Go again.”

Dean startled. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Go again.” You strained.

Dean collected himself, and then; the same pain. But still as you writhed. Fists clenching and nails digging into your palms the worm remained inside you. And your brothers were growing increasingly concerned. Your movements began to slow as you grew quieter and your eyes fluttered, drooping with a sudden heaviness. Dean pulled the cables away immediately and you slumped back against the chair. Your head lolled forwards against your chest and your breathing was concerningly slow and laboured.

“Okay….okay…” Sam said gently, slipping an arm behind your back to help support you.You whimpered slightly at the movement. “ Shh. You’re alright sweetheart.” he glanced up at Dean, fear and worry evident in the creases on his forehead. They would have to find a different way to get the worm out.

You were sweating. Gods….you’d never been hotter. Your body still ached as you sat in the armchair of the cabin. The old leather was flaking off and was practically covered in a sheen of your own sweat. Sam and Dean had pushed it towards the fire, leaving you to sweat against the heat. They had figured that as the parasite needed water, if they could make you sweat it all out…then the creature would leave. But now you were practically slumped in a chair, dark veins crawling up your neck as you tried to rid the worm from your body. You coughed a little, your throat dry, with no way to soothe it. Thirst…..that was the only thing that consumed your mind…you were so. damn. thirsty. Your body craved it. Anything you could get you would take….even your own brothers’ blood. The parasite yearned for something. You could feel it, squirming around inside you. Uncomfortable, you whined before coughing a little, doubling over on yourself.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder. “Hang in there, Sweetheart. You have to sweat it out.”

“Can’t–” You coughed.

“Yes you can.” Dean shut you down quickly. “You can’t give up. Winchesters don’t quit.”

Reluctantly, you nodded. Your head spun. You felt sick. But you knew you couldn’t give up. You were in for a long waiting game.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were on the verge of breaking down that you began to feel it slithering up your throat. You gagged, coughing as you tried to expel the creature from your body.

Sam and Dean were by your side in seconds, both trying to coax you through it, ready to stomp on the worm as soon as it made an appearance. Sure enough you managed to cough it up uncomfortably. It splattered on the floor, squealing as it writhed and trying to slither off to infect someone else. It didn’t make it far before Dean slammed a heavy boot over it. And once more for good measure. It squelched under his shoe, peeling off from it as it stuck to the floor. He grimaced at the sight before moving to crouch beside you, checking on you.

You wiped the string of saliva from your mouth with a grimace before gratefully taking the water bottle Sam offered you and wasting no time before drinking it to quench your impossible thirst.

“That's it. Easy, Sweetheart.” Dean cooed. “It’s over now.”

“You did it, kiddo.” Sam said, guiding you to lean back in the chair more. “We knew you could do it. We’re proud of you.”

(A bit of a rubbish ending! I'm sorry i wasn't sure what to do)

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godmadeaterribleerror · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?”

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt, anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

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