#i love dramatic things okay that needed to remain untouched

[cornflowershade]

i appreciate that last twilight was on the whole a beautiful story that moved me many times over but. there were. so many story choices near the end that just Did Not Hit. I am. very disappointed.

[jeongjaebae]

Maybe we'll just keep fallin'

⇢ Juyeon x reader, 3.4k, exes to lovers ⇢ A reunion at an amusement park reminds you of what it feels like to fall.

You've never hated Eric more than at this moment.

He gives you a big smile right when he sees you walking towards where the group is gathered near the entrance of the amusement park, and then runs towards you with his arms stretched out to squeeze the breath out of you.

"Hey," you greet with an attempt at a smile, hoping he doesn't notice the way your mood suddenly falls. "Long time no see."

"Y/N, I've missed you so much!" Eric's hug is even tighter than the last time you've seen him—a clear indication that he's been working out in college because those arms are even stronger as they lift you in a spin that takes you by surprise.

This amusement park trip would've been a perfect excursion on this perfect sunny day; a reunion of friends after a few years and a number of kilometers apart. And you had indeed been looking forward to it up until this point, having excitedly packed your bag and planned your outfit the night before.

However, no one had told you that he would be here too.

You knew it wasn't Eric's fault for inviting the both of you though, for he probably doesn't know about what happened. And when you join the rest of the group, it becomes quite obvious that none of them knew about it. It's as if they were all frozen in time, in the same spot as they stood all those years ago, back when your memories of this very amusement park had been overflowing with feelings for him.

It's not Eric's fault because Juyeon's Instagram remains untouched. Still filled with old pictures of the two of you long after what happened.

"It's nice to see all of you again," you say as you reach the others, looking at each of them one at a time. You wanted nothing more than to avoid looking at Juyeon the entire day, but it's something you couldn't get out of if you wanted to keep pretending everything was fine.

Juyeon was the first one you'd spotted from afar, having immediately recognized his all too familiar figure. But up close, he seems to have changed quite a bit. Like Eric, he definitely bulked up and is no longer super skinny, and then there's the way his skin glows and how his hair falls into place perfectly even with the wind blowing against it. And who wears such nice clothes to an amusement park? He's so stupidly perfect and unaffected that it pisses you off. The only thing that gives you a bit of satisfaction is seeing how he immediately stiffens after seeing you.

Maybe it would be easy to remember that he's no longer the boy you once loved when he seems so different now.

"Alright, let's go!" Eric shouts.

You knew that it was going to be a very long day.

***

"What's wrong? You don't like rollercoasters anymore?" Jacob asks. He raises an eyebrow at the way you eyed the ride all too warily.

You'd joined the line with the rest of them but there's a sense of dread in your steps that hadn't been there before. And while it wouldn't be your first time on this ride, the huge drop no longer seemed as appealing as it once did. Maybe you've developed a bit of a fear.

"I just hate the feeling of falling now," you say, then shrug when Hyunjae shoots you a strange look. "People change, I guess."

When your eyes flicker over to Juyeon intentionally, he's already staring at you.

Sometime while in line, the others all pair up with their seatmates, leaving you and Juyeon at the back together. Maybe it would've reminded you of the time they intentionally left you together when trying to set you up, but things are different now. It annoys you now.

You sigh. "Let's just get this over with."

As you climb into your seat with Juyeon following right behind you, suddenly you get an idea.

"Here, let me get this for you." You shoot him a smile before grabbing the safety bar and pushing it down on him as far as it would go, locking him into the seat with a click. It's much tighter than it needs to be and probably digs into his stomach if his grimace is any indication. Perfect. "Enjoy the ride!"

Then you walk out the other way. Leaving him without a seatmate on the rollercoaster.

A look of utter disbelief spreads on his face and you simply laugh before heading to the exit, where you would wait for his ugly photos to come out. Not that he could ever be ugly, but one could still hope.

As the rollercoaster takes off and he's still glancing at you looking betrayed, there's no time for guilt. Because he was going to go on the ride anyways, you tell yourself. What difference did it make whether it was with or without you? And besides, strapping him in tighter could've been to ensure his safety; it's almost funny how the things we do for the people we love actually end up hurting them the most.

Several minutes later, Juyeon comes back with his hair dishevelled and a frown on his face. Bothered, but still silent. You count that as a win because unfortunately for you, his photos turn out looking just fine. In fact, they turn out all too similar to the set you once carried around in your phone case—the same ride and the same expression, only the seat beside him hadn't been empty in that one.

He doesn't say anything as you take out your phone to quickly snap a photo of the preview on the screen, calling him ugly the entire time anyways.

The loud noises and flashy lights in every direction try to grab your attention as heading to the next ride has you walking through all the carnival games in the park. Prizes are dangling at every stall, the smell of colourful snacks and the cheerful voices of children filling the air. For a while, you don't mind it when Juyeon falls into step beside you at the back of the group.

Until his hand accidentally brushes yours. And his touch sends you reeling.

"You okay?" his eyes flash with concern. He hangs back to wait for you while the rest of the group continues on without notice.

"Yup," you slap on the most dazzling fake smile you could muster. "Never been better."

It was a close call; for a second you thought your resentment towards him faltered like your feet did.

They've stopped at a beanbag toss game where Hyunjae points out how much Sunwoo looks like the raccoon plushie hanging in the section of prizes, and Changmin is taking bets that Sangyeon's bad luck would make him lose every game he plays. Juyeon bets against it. You bet for it.

The man running the game gestures dramatically, beckoning your group over. "See something you like? Step right up! Only three tickets to win the biggest prizes in the entire park."

Normally you would've walked away. Everyone knows that carnival games are rigged so there was no point in wasting your tickets, but once again, an idea occurs. Three tickets to get a chance to hit your ex? Hell yeah, you were definitely in.

The man gives you a wink as you go to hand in your three measly tickets, with Juyeon following closely behind. You had a feeling he would participate too, though you don't know why.

As you settle into your spot at the counter, you realize that the booth is quite empty. None of your friends are there anymore, somehow having disappeared so suddenly without a trace—leaving you alone with Juyeon once again.

"Why are they always putting us together," you mutter under your breath.

"Because they don't know about—"

"Yeah, no shit." You roll your eyes at him. Why was he answering a rhetorical question anyways? "Whatever. Let's get on with the game already."

When the game starts, Juyeon is oblivious beside you as he concentrates on the distance to the target. Competitive as usual, you assume, though this time it wouldn't be for the purpose of winning you a giant plushie like he did before. And the old you might've tried to get a good score to impress him, but the new you isn't like that anymore.

You almost feel bad when you take a step away from the booth and gaze at the back of his head. There's a sense of hesitation because does he really deserve this? Getting your revenge when he's not even looking is a little too harsh isn't it? But you quickly wipe those thoughts away. One beanbag to the head isn't going to make up for all the times he promised not to break your heart yet ended up doing it anyways.

Juyeon whips around and gives you a hard stare after your beanbag successfully strikes the back of his head and then lands at his feet. Bullseye!

"Oh, did I hit you?" Your voice drips with a sarcastic sweetness. "Oops, sorry."

The rest of your beanbags are tossed messily without really caring where they land now that you've accomplished your goal, and his shots seem too distracted after getting hit.

He remains impassive as the two of you find your way back to the rest of your friends who appear just as suddenly as they disappeared.

"That was a nice shot." Hyunjae gives you a high-five. The way Juyeon glances at him sharply almost makes you burst out laughing. "Too bad you didn't win a prize."

You don't tell him that it might be even better than winning a prize. "You saw that? But where did you guys go?"

"Oh um, Eric kind of had an emergency. In the bathroom." Hyunjae gives you a wry smile then takes off before you could ask more.

You stick with Sunwoo for the rest of the day, clinging onto him so closely that he has no opportunity to leave you with your ex again. He occasionally gives you questioning glances and you feel slightly embarrassed; it wasn't your intention to make things awkward, but surely your friends should've all sensed something strange by now? Surely they couldn't still see you and Juyeon as a couple?

The last jab you took at him was on the spinning teacup ride, a final ride at the end of the day just as the sun was setting. The rest of your group had split themselves equally into two teacups, leaving no room for the two of you though you could see through the way they intentionally sprawled themselves across the seats to fill up the space.

So once again, you were left with Juyeon. But this time, you don't complain because you had another plan up your sleeve.

As soon as the ride starts along with the horrible carnival music, you're grabbing the wheel at the center and turning it as fast as you could. It makes the teacup spin and spin, round and round until the rest of the world is a blur of lights and colours around you. Somehow it makes the teacup feel all too small. It's as if you and Juyeon were the only ones existing as everything else blends together.

"Y/N, stop," he shouts at some point, but you pay no attention as your hands continue to move the steering wheel mechanically. "You're going to get dizzy!"

And he's right. Because eventually the teacup slows to a full stop, but the world continues to spin and prevents you from getting to your feet and walking out.

"Are you okay?" Juyeon reaches for you then pulls back at the last moment. "Why did you spin it so much?"

Just seeing the way he looks perfectly fine standing there makes you feel the contents of your stomach churn. His perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfectly indifferent expression. Had your plan backfired? At this point, could anything you do even affect him the way his presence affected you so much?

You attempt at getting to your feet again and it just barely works this time. "Ugh, why aren't—you dizzy—"

"You spun it that hard just to get me dizzy?" Juyeon's voice gives no hints to what he's thinking.

"Shut up."

His touch stings when he ends up wrapping an arm around you, holding you up as you walk out of the ride together. Usually you would've thrown him off and pushed him away, but in your state of trying not to die, you give in and let him guide you to a pavilion with some picnic benches.

"Sit here."

It's quieter here when you're out of the crowd. A little easier to breathe. You focus on the way the air tastes, cooler now that the sun has gone down but still lingering with the sweetness of cotton candy from a nearby vendor. The world slows down and finally stills under your feet, and the waves of nausea quickly recede.

"Why are you doing all this?" Juyeon blurts, and you can finally see something underneath those unreadable eyes of his. The whole day he's put up with your antics without ever saying anything, but now you could see the blaze the lies just beneath the surface.

It feels like a taste of victory.

"Doing what?"

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say carefully.

He gives an exasperated sigh, pacing around in front of the bench you sat at. "Do you hate me that much?"

"I—"

Yes, you wanted to say. Because hating him has never left your mind for the past few years. Because you did want to resent him. To hurt him the way that he hurt you when he decided to cut off all ties with you so your long-distance relationship wouldn't hold you back during college. Maybe he'd thought it was the right thing to do but it was such a stupid reason and he was so stupid and—it all hurt. So yes, maybe you'd imagined getting your revenge someday when you met him again.

But doing all those things today didn't make you feel any better and seeing him like this is different from what you'd imagined.

Juyeon's steps finally stop, and he sits down on the bench beside you. "If you do, it's okay. I get it. I would hate me too."

A silence settles in between you and the crickets in the background are almost too loud. The last of the sun's fading glow surrender to a blanket of darkness that contrasts with the warm glow of the fairy lights in the small pavilion. Being here in any other context might be romantic. It reminds you all too much of what happened the first time.

"Why?" you ultimately ask despite already knowing the answer. "Why would you hate yourself?"

"For hurting you. For even thinking that we'd be better off apart because the past four years have only made me miserable with regret," he admits. "So yes, hurt me. Let out your pain." He pounds on his chest a couple of times and then stretches his arms out, waiting. "I can take it. Just don't hurt yourself."

"Juyeon..."

The amount of times you'd wished to hear those words over the years. He did call that one time, though your roommates had taken your phone and blocked him before you could get a chance to find out what he might've said. It was something that you'd wondered about during the times you'd drank a little too much, when you'd cried over nothing, when the feeling of falling had become falling into the depths of darkness instead of falling in love like it once was.

Maybe now, you're finally getting your answer.

Your fists are weak where they collide with his chest repeatedly, one after another, as if doing so would make his heart hurt as much as yours did. And he just takes it.

But then he's wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close until you give in. Until you completely melt against him. Until there's the warmth of his body against you and the tears that slip down your cheeks land on his shirt.

"Y/N, you have no idea how much I missed you," he whispers, breath coming out against your hair where he runs his hand through like he did before. "I'm sorry. For everything."

His scent enveloping you as he holds you, the dim glow of lights above you—it all reminds you of what happened all those years ago at this very place. It had been the same park and the same friends as today, but the exhilaration was from the way he grabbed your hand to pull your closer, not from being up high in that swing ride. The dizziness you'd felt was after he kissed you for the first time, and not from some spinning teacup ride. And when had the heart fluttering feeling of falling been from falling in love, and not simply from a rollercoaster ride?

But soon you do find yourself falling again.

It's not like the first time he kissed you here, when sparks fly and the world spins and your heart pounds so hard you thought it would burst. This time when his lips are on yours and he fits against you so perfectly, it's like coming home after being too far for too long. Everything feels so familiar yet new, like rereading your favourite book and rediscovering all of your favourite passages as you relearn each line and curve of his body. He may be different from what you remembered from all those years ago, but the way his gentle hands cup your cheeks, the brushing of his knees against yours, the way you can taste the salt of tears and faint sweetness of cotton candy on his lips. Everything is still so distinctly him, something that even the space and time between you couldn't ever change.

"Lee Juyeon," comes out in a whisper against his lips as you pull back to catch your breath, "you're so stupid."

"Only when it comes to you." He breaks into a smile, the first genuine smile that you've seen all day and it seems to light up the world. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life."

"You're making this sound like a proposal."

Juyeon gives a choked laugh. "Um, not that I would be against it, but let's take this one step at a time first, yeah?"

And when you look at him, truly look at him, this time you can see the same boy you loved for all these years. You let those eyes draw you in and finally let yourself sink into the memories that you kept pushing away and burying. There's a tinge of pink on his cheeks and they're hot under your fingertips as you reach to pull him in again and—

"It's about time," a booming voice suddenly interrupts, making the two of you spring apart. Eric claps as he walks into the pavilion joined by the rest of the group, a mischievous smile on his face.

"It only took them all day," Sunwoo rolls his eyes. "I was dying over here when Y/N started following me around. Totally deserve an Oscar for my acting today."

"Hey, that's not true! I definitely noticed you giving me weird looks."

It's not surprising that your friends had known about the breakup after all, though you just hadn't expected them to have known even before this trip. The deja vu takes you back to the last time you were here, how your first kiss as a new couple was nearly interrupted by Eric's cheers and Sunwoo's expressions of disgust.

"Before you start freaking out—no, nobody told us," Eric says. "Nobody needed to because it was so obvious. We only pretended to not know in the hopes that you'd finally put each other out of your misery."

"And while it's good that you guys did, the highlight of this trip has got to be watching Y/N bully Juyeon all day," Hyunjae bellows and nods towards Juyeon. "I don't know what you did to deserve that, but you probably deserved it."

Soon there are sounds of laughter filling the pavilion and it makes your heart feel full in a way that you hadn't felt in a long time. As if there had been a weight you didn't even know you had on you, and now it's been lifted off your shoulders and you finally feel light enough to join in with their laughter.

As fireworks fill the night sky and Juyeon intertwines his fingers with yours on the walk back, it quickly becomes clear that the falling back together was as easy as it had been the first time.

[solarwonux]

Sunflower || Seokmin 

seokmin x f!reader: soulmate au 

w.c: 23.7k (its a long one get some popcorn lol)

warnings: angst, really really slow burn, suggestive themes (no nsfw sorry y’all) 

note: I’M SO EXCITED TO FINALLY RELEASE THIS FIC, it has been released before but I rewrote it a little and finally finished it. PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS IT WOULD MEAN SO MUCH TO ME AND YES YOU DO NEED TO READ CHERRY FIRST IT WOULD MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE IF YOU DO. 

cherry || masterlist

“Get up.” Seungkwan said opening the curtains in your room letting in the obnoxious rays of sunlight. You groaned turning over in your bed pulling the sheets over your head. A failed attempt to block the sunlight out. “I mean it get up.” He jumped on your bed, trapping you underneath him then tried to pry off the sheets from your body. Your iron-like grip holding them in place. You wiggled your body trying to wrestle him off. He scoffed placing his hands on your sides and jabbing them, an annoyed laugh falling out of your lips. He snickered grabbing onto your sheets and pulling them off your body. 

“Get up!” He exclaimed letting you go, bringing your sheets along with him. He stood at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips, waiting. You whined, flaying your limbs up in the air, which only made him roll his eyes in annoyance. “It’s too early, let me sleep please.” You grumbled finally sitting up on your bed, crossing your legs and arms in front of you. You blinked rapidly trying to get used to the brightness of your once dark room. 

“It’s almost two in the afternoon, I’m not letting you sleep anymore…so get up.” He commanded his hands leaving his hips and pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You’ve been doing this every weekend for the last five months and honestly I’ve had it.” He shook his head in disbelief and threw himself on your bed in despair. You rolled your eyes shoving him with your foot before laying down on your side, eyeing the unpleasant billboard outside your—well Seungkwan’s guest bedroom window. “Even if I get up, what's the point, I have nothing to do.” You sighed moving so you were now on your back, eyeing the ceiling fan as it turned with ferocity above your bed and attempted to count the times it went around in circles. Useless to say the least but helped calm you down.

“I talked to Vernon yesterday; he’s worried about you?” Seungkwan sat up poking your side again. The name that fell out his lips sent jabs of pain up your body and you tried your hardest to blink back the tears that had started to form at the sound of his name. “I’m fine.” You whispered turning over to face your best friend. His eyebrows furrowed as he searched your face carefully for any warning signs. “It’s okay not to be fine you know, it’s okay to admit it too.” He sighed wrapping an arm around your shoulder hugging you tightly. 

“How is he?” You mumbled. The question had been lingering at the tip of your tongue since the day the two of you decided to finally part ways. Since the day you moved into Seungkwan’s guest bedroom and since the day Vernon told you about his back-packing trip around South East Asia. That night the two of you cried together on Seungkwan’s overly expensive couch, because your new realities, that didn’t involve one another as lovers, finally started to settle in.

When he walked out the front door, he had promised to come back under one condition. You knew it was eating him inside, but he held his head high and told you to try everything in your power to find the person that was meant to be your forever. He had found his, in fact his was the reason why the two of you were in this mess in the first place. Why the color you had gotten used to seeing for nearly five years had been stripped away from you.

“He’s good, he arrived in Thailand last night and yes he’s taking his vitamins and eating well.” Seungkwan stated he sat up bringing you along with him. “But he keeps asking about you and I’m tired of lying to him, so I’m taking you out today.” He smiled brightly, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss against your forehead. ��So, take a shower before I dump a bucket of water on you.” 

“Where are you taking me?” You turned down the radio, your voice was hoarse from screaming out the lyrics to Dancing Queen with Seungkwan. A curious smile playing on your lips as you looked out your open window, the wind hitting your face making goosebumps rise onto your skin. Despite still not feeling like you could jump back and be the person you were five years ago or five months ago, you felt at ease.

“It’s a surprise.” Seungkwan stated in a matter of fact tone, finishing it off with a scoff. You rolled your eyes sitting back in your seat. The beginning melody of Toxic sounding through his car speakers made Seungkwan groan in protest. “Last time I let you pick the music.” He pointed out, turning on the turn signals. 

“Shut up you love it.” You teased. “Now please tell me where we’re going, we’ve been driving for nearly three hours.” You whined, closing the window and bringing down the car visor. You opened the little mirror and cringed once you saw yourself. Your hair was sticking out in different places, your red lipstick was slightly smudged, and your mascara had started to run. If Vernon was next to you, he would’ve told you that you still looked like the most beautiful girl in the world. You grinned letting out a small sigh and shook your head. The feeling of nostalgia making its way underneath your skin whenever you thought of him. To your surprise you hadn’t bursted into tears yet and maybe that was an indication that you were finally starting to let yourself feel happiness once again.

“It’s been an hour and a half, you’re literally so dramatic.” Seungkwan said in disbelief as he slowed down the car. “Anyway, we’re here, but you have to put on the blindfold before we go anywhere.”  He smiled, putting his car in park and shutting it off. He reached over the back seat and brought out a blindfold, cheekily showing it to you. 

“Kwanie I know I’ve been a pain these last five months but I’m literally begging you to not kill me today.” You said as you finished up fixing your face as well as your unruly hair before closing the visor and turning to face him. He rolled his eyes shoving the blindfold into your hand. “I can’t stand you sometimes, just put the damn blindfold on.” He whined, tapping his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel. You saluted at him jokingly before putting it on. “Done, lead me to my death.” 

“Let’s go drama queen.” 

“You’re one to talk.” You mumbled opening his car door. Seungkwan grabbed your hands leading you out of the car, resting his hands on your shoulders. “I promise you’ll love it.” He said the smile prominent in his tone of voice as he started to walk you forward. You jumped putting one of your hands over his in panic, your stomach turning in anticipation. Your mind goes through numerous possibilities of what would be on the other side once you removed your blindfold. A part of you hoping it was Vernon, but you knew that wasn’t an option. He was out, doing something he had desperately wanted to do for years and no matter how much he cared for you. He wasn’t going to put his dreams to halt for you. The two of you had done it for far too long and now it was time to finally live for yourselves. It was something the two of you deserved. 

“Alright we’re here.” Seungkwan stated as the two of you stopped walking. Your hands quickly went up to the blindfold and took it off quickly. A gasp falling out of your lips as you stared in awe at the black and white field of sunflowers. The heliotropic flowers swayed slowly in the wind as they reached up high towards the sunlight. Your stomach turning wishing you had never taken your color for granted. 

“Kwanie, I-I love it.” You smiled turning to face the boy who was looking at you smugly. You hugged him tightly, burying your face into the crook of his neck finally letting the tears spill out. He nodded wrapping his arms around you tightly, slowly caressing your back as he let you cry. Something he had gotten used to since you had started living with him, and something he would never complain about. The pain you were going through, he could not understand no matter how hard he tried. He had never been in love before, his soulmate mark remained untouched, the words etched on his wrist haunting him for years, slowly making him lose hope. And that’s how he lived for a while until the night when you called him sobbing. The words coming out of your mouth he couldn’t make out, but he heard the pain laced in your voice. His heart broke as he knew what had happened. 

Vernon had confided in him for nearly a year. At first, he didn’t agree with the way he was handling things, telling him that you should’ve been his first priority. But the more he thought about it the more he understood why he couldn’t. Vernon’s love for you was indescribable, he would’ve moved mountains and parted the red sea for you if he could. You were his light the reason he kept pushing even though at the end he knew what the outcome would be. The love the two of you had was pure art and Seungkwan could only hope to find something so perfect one day. Which is why he let you cry on him; let you curse out the world as he held you in his arms because even though he hadn’t found the person the universe had set him up with. He knew what it felt like to long for that person. 

“We can cut some and take them home. Trust me the apartment needs a little bit of brightness.” He pulled away, his thumbs wiping the stray tears on your cheeks. You nodded turning around, watching the people you had overlooked run around happily. Some were by the little white kiosk that held bundles of sunflowers and strawberries and you assumed that’s where you would go to pay the fee. Others were taking pictures with the daisy like flowers, while others were cutting off the stems carefully to take home, fighting with the bees. The whole sight made you feel warm and at peace and though you had already cried. You felt like crying again only because the happiness that was bubbling up inside of you was overwhelming. 

“Let’s go then and since you brought me here you will pay for them right.” You pouted batting your eyelashes up at him. 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t” 

“The worst honestly.” You grabbed his hand leading him to the middle of the field. The skyrocketing flowers make you feel small as if you were an ant in the middle of a field of grass. “I wish I can see them in their truest form” You sighed taking one of the leaves in between your index finger and thumb. “But I can only remember what they would look like.” You nodded smiling sadly earning a flick on the forehead from Seungkwan. “Ow…what the hell Kwanie.”

“Stop getting all sad on me and smile please.” He said, bringing a pair of kitchen scissors from his back pocket. You cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, and you were about to ask him where the hell he had gotten them, until you noticed the miniscule flashes of color by his shoulder. You blinked rapidly, before rubbing your eyes forcefully not caring that you had smudged your mascara.

Seungkwan leaned up grabbing onto the flower stem, placing it in between the scissor blades and cutting it. A satisfied hum escaping his lungs, nodding in approval while he turned to you and brag. His smile fell once he noticed the look of distresses embedded onto your face. “What’s wrong, what happened?” He said dropping the flower along with the scissors and placing both hands on top of your shoulders. He shook you, your eyes turning wide while you looked around. The water pooling in your tear ducts and he tried to desperately grab your attention.  

The broken flashes of yellow, coming in and out at a faster than before. Faster than the morning you had met Vernon. Your heart was at your throat and you pushed Seungkwan’s hands off your shoulders, ignoring his worried statements and pushed past him. You kept walking, your hands shaking at your sides as the flashes of color became more intense. Seungkwan followed you, taking long strides to keep up with you. “What’s happening…did something happen?” He asked his voice sounding with concern and once again you ignored him again, trying to find the reason why you were suddenly seeing color again. A part of you wondered if this was how Vernon had felt that night. If he felt lightheaded. If his body grew weak while his heart broke slowly into thousands of pieces while the flashes of color came in and out. 

“Seokmin where are you going…what’s going on?” You heard a voice shout, your footsteps coming to a stop once your eyes found the ones of the person in front of you. The same look of distress you had on your face adorning his. You let out a sob seeing as the color poured in at a faster rate than before. The part of you that still loved Vernon breaking away slowly while you felt your heart start to beat out of time. Just like it had done that first time you met Vernon and you were introduced to a world of color. Seungkwan came up beside you, out of breath, his hand grabbing onto your arm, confusion written all over his features as he looked between you and the man standing a few feet away from the two of you. 

“Min, you’re scaring me.” His friend said, waving a hand in front of his face. He didn’t budge, instead his eyes only got wider, and he took it upon himself to take a wary step forward. “D-Do you see i-it too?” 

You nodded pushing the hand Seungkwan was using to hold you back off. “W-What’s your name?” You took a step forward, your body feeling as if it were on fire. Something you had never once experienced before.

“Seokmin, I-I thought I would never find you.” He confessed stopping until only a foot separated the two of you. His hands inside his jacket pockets itching to reach out to you. To embrace you, wipe away your tears, and tell you how beautiful you looked despite the mascara tracks staining your cheeks. 

He never imagined that this day would come. Sure, he had fantasized about it since the day he learned what soulmate’s where. He had practiced numerous conversations inside his head, to be prepared. But he never once believed that he would be able to find, certainly not in a field of sunflowers on the hottest day of the year. And certainly not with you standing in front of him crying as if your heart was breaking instead of mending.

“C-Can I give you a hug?” You spoke rubbing the back of your hand against your cold cheek, a sob catching itself at the back of your throat. He nodded quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets and shaking them at his side. The two of you stared at each other in silence, eyes running all over the place. Your bodies daring to finally cross the line. In the end, despite your heart feeling as if it were to fall out of your ass. You crossed it, wrapping your delicate arms around his torso, the sob you had been holding in finally breaking out of its confinements. 

Seokmin held you as if his life depended on it. His mind searching through the files of practice conversations he had over the years, trying to come up with something, anything to say to you right now. 

With caution he started to run his hands down your back, trying to offer you comfort. His gaze landing on the man that had been chasing after you. To Seokmin his features were unreadable, but the tears that had started to fall out of his eyes spoke volumes and it scared him. He could only hope he wasn’t your significant other because the last thing Seokmin wanted to do was make you choose. If your heart didn’t belong to him then he’d live with the consequences because despite not knowing your name yet, he knew you deserved more than what the world had to offer. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You pulled away; the residue of your mascara combined with your tears on his pale-yellow t-shirt. Your bottom lip trembles as the memories of your first meeting with Vernon came flooding back. “Everything is so fucked…I’m sorry you had to meet me like this.”

“Don’t be sorry, just because we met doesn’t mean we have to be together right away.” He nodded the soft pad of his thumbs lying against your soft cheeks. He studied your face closely, taking in everything as fast as he could. Afraid you would be taken away from him forever. He could tell something was bothering especially when you refused to look him in the eye. Only catching the subtle hint of sadness hiding behind your sparkling eyes. There was something you had to deal with, one that didn’t involve him, and he knew he had to put himself aside and you first. 

“I’ve waited my whole life for you…I can wait a little longer.” 

“Text him please.” Seungkwan pleaded falling on to your bed cuddled with your pillow. You stopped your typing and took off your glasses before looking down at him. His puppy dog eyes cause you to roll your eyes.

“I will once I’m done applying for this job.” You smiled sending him a playful wink. “No now, you always come up with an excuse to shut me up but this time it won’t work.” He sat up and hit you across your face lightly with your pillow, blocking your view. You whined feeling the weight of your laptop disappear from your lap and you knew this was a fight you weren’t going to win.

“Why does it matter, it’s not like I’ve been ignoring him, I respond to his good night and good morning texts every day.” You sat up and reached over to grab your laptop in which he was holding close and tightly to his chest. “Wow girlfriend of the year.” Seungkwan rolled his eyes, turning his body from your grabby hands.

“We’re not dating…please give me my laptop back.” You pulled at his arms as they got tighter around your precious device. You cursed falling back on your bed when you realized your attempts were going to be deemed as unsuccessful. 

You slammed your hands down on your bed in frustration. Seungkwan sighed and set down your laptop on your bedside table before laying down next to you. He poked your cheek, grabbing your attention, your pouty gaze making his heart sink. “I’m scared, what if the same thing that happened with Vernon happens again.” You confessed hitting your palm against your forehead, silently punishing yourself for your stupidity.

“We don’t get anywhere in life letting our fear get in the way of things.” He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest. “And you can’t keep comparing this potential relationship with the one you and Vernon had because you’ve been given a chance to start over and fall without a care in the world.” He said playing with your fingers gently. “So, ask him out, I know he’s been dying to see you again.”

“How do you know?” You scoffed pulling your hand from his and resting it on top of your stomach. You looked up at the ceiling, counting the small indents that appeared over years of overuse. Your mind racing back to the events that occurred at the middle of the sunflower field as well as what happened after. Which was nothing, you had told Seokmin that you needed time before jumping face first into a brand-new relationship. He had agreed, told you he’d wait for you a whole lifetime again if that’s what you needed, and it broke your heart. You could tell he was a little disappointed. It was written all over his face, despite the smile that adorned it and you couldn’t imagine how he was feeling now, especially with your lack of communication.

“Soonyoung told me.” Seungkwan flicked your forehead bringing out of your daze making you glare at him in the process. You were thankful for him and everything he had done for you throughout your devastating break up with Vernon but sometimes you wished he wouldn’t worry so much. “Wait…when did you get his number?” You sat up leaning your body over and poking his side. He convulsed pushing your hands away before sitting up and crossing his legs under him. “That day at the field while Seokmin paid for your flowers.” He pointed behind you to the vase that held your withered sunflowers. “Also, when are you going to get rid of them, they’re looking a little dead.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him as hard as you could. He was right, the flowers had been dead for almost two months, but every time you looked at them, they reminded you of Seokmin and that thought alone made you happy. “Never, I’m going to be buried with them. Now get out of my room I need to finish applying for this job.” He nodded reaching over for your laptop and handed it to you before getting off from your bed.

“Fine, but please text him, Soonyoung and I made a bet and so far, he’s winning, and I really really don’t want to give him a cent.” He laughed walking out of your room, holding onto the door handle tightly.

“Seungkwan my love life is not a game.” You shouted, throwing your pillow at him. His eyes grew wide in panic and he ran out of your room, closing your door quickly. Causing your pillow to hit the door and fall to the floor. You shook your head and laid back on your bed, your laptop and job application long forgotten as you eyed your charging phone. Your hands itched to reach out and grab it and finally send the text you had written countless times, but never sent because of fear.

“Fuck it.” You reached over and pulled it off the charging cable, unlocking it and opening your message app. Seokmin’s good morning text sat unread at the top of the list. Your heart palpitated as you typed the message you had memorized and counted to ten before hitting send. You panicked throwing your phone across your bed and getting off it, the sweat forming on your hands as they shook. You ran out of your room, down the hallway and into the kitchen, your eyes landing on a smug looking Seungkwan as he turned a wine glass in his hand.

“I sent it.”

“Finally, I’m about to be fifty dollars richer.” 

“How do I look?” You walked into the living for the umpteenth time that afternoon, this time you were adorning a sky-blue summer dress and white vans. “Every time you’ve asked me that I’ve told you the same thing, you look great now finish getting ready he’s going to be here in literally ten minutes.”

“I know but each outfit doesn’t feel right.” You threw your hands up and sat on the lounge chair putting your feet on top of the coffee table earning a look of disapproval from Seungkwan. “What if I wear the wrong outfit and the same thing as last time happens.” You pushed your hair back, lightly tugging at your roots. 

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I’m the dramatic one in this friendship.” He leaned over and pushed your feet off the coffee table making you pout. “A bad outfit isn’t going to trigger what happened with Vernon, so calm down and touch up your make or hair. Whatever you need to do because now you have a solid five minutes before he gets here.” Seungkwan stood up from his seat and pulled you up from the lounge chair.

“See, I knew my outfit was bad. Now I have to go change again.” Seungkwan rolled his eyes while he pushed you back into your room. “It was a hypothetical, you look beautiful, but what does look bad is your hair so fix it because time is ticking and neither of us are getting any younger.” He guided you to your mirror waving his hands around your disheveled hair, scolding at yourself for having the terrible habit of pulling on it whenever you were anxious or frustrated.

“Fine, but can you keep on the lookout.” You spoke your eyes growing wide, the feeling of panic rushing through your veins when the doorbell sounded. “Looks like I don’t need to.” Seungkwan grabbed your brush and handed it to you before exiting your room, closing the door behind him. “Don’t change or I’ll come in here and drag you out in whatever terrible outfit you have on.” He scolded the sound of his feet getting softer as he neared the front of the apartment.

You sighed putting down your brush and smoothed out your hair as much as you could before tying in back in a loose half up and half down style. You slowly counted to ten putting on your earrings and the rings you could find on top of your messy dresser. You gave yourself one last look, whispering words of encouragement and walked out. Seungkwan and Seokmin’s animated voices getting louder as you got closer to the living room.

“Tell Hoshi I’m expecting his payment by tonight.” Seungkwan jokes. Seokmin threw his head back in laughter, making you roll your eyes.  

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.” You cleared your throat, putting your cross-body bag on and gripping the leather strap tightly to keep your hands from shaking. Seokmin’s laughter died down as he turned to face you, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. “It’s okay I didn’t wait long.” He shook his head smiling, he extended his free hand to you before quickly exchanging it with the one that held the flowers. “These are for you. I wasn’t sure if I should get you the daisies, the roses, or the lilies so I got you all three.” His nervous eyes left yours and looked around looking for another point of focus.

“I love them, thank you so much.” You took them from him, holding them close, a color of array of emotions bursting inside of you making you feel as if you were being reborn.

“Alright, you two get out of here, go have fun.” Seungkwan broke the silence taking your flowers from you. He gave you a pointed look as he shuffled the two of you out. “Have her home by midnight.” He opened the front door signaling the two of you out. “Will do, it was nice seeing you again Seungkwan.” Seokmin walked out leaving you behind to follow him through the compressed doorway.

“I’m terribly sorry about him.” You sent Seungkwan a glare, his tongue poking out at you in a teasing manner before shutting the door.

“He should meet the rest of my friends. I think they’d get along very well.”

Seokmin and you walked in silence, your hands brushing against one another daring to feel each other’s warmth. The sweet melodies of the night life filling in the pockets of the comfortable silence that was lingering in the air around you. A few sorry’s and excuse me’s were exchanged by oblivious passer-byes making the two of you exchange inconspicuous stares. Smiles etching from side to side, cheeks flushing dark crimson. Your hearts matching time unbeknownst to the outside world.

You tried to come up with anything to say though you ended up falling short. Even though the silence that was between the two of you was loud, blaring in forms of sirens. It wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, and for that you were thankful.

“We’re here.” Seokmin finally broke the silence, his shoulders settling to a calm composure. He grabbed the door handle and opened it, stepping aside giving you room to walk in.

The second you did you were hit with a colorful aroma of different tea blends, sweets and spices. The quirky designs and phrases decorating the different walls jumped out at you. And the calm soothing vibe warmed up your insides, calming your nerves.

Seokmin came up behind you finally crossing the line the two of you had unknowingly laid out. “I hope you don’t mind this is my favorite boba shop, I know it’s not ideal, but I was really drawing a blank when you texted me earlier.” Seokmin placed a hand on your shoulder, making your breath hitch as he stood behind you patiently waiting to be attended.

“It’s okay, I love it, plus we have other chances to go on more extravagant dates.” You exaggerated, giving him a warm smile. Seokmin swore he had been lifted up into heaven and dropped once he saw the light on your face.

“I’d love nothing more.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze before wrapping it around your front, gently pulling you close. “T-This okay?” He asked, his voice wavering at the end giving you the indication that he too was unfamiliar with this new ocean the two of you had plunged yourselves into. “Yes, this is perfect.” You answered a little too excited.

“Great, what do you want then?” Seokmin pointed to the menu behind the front counter. You looked up skimming through the various flavors and options silently before turning your head to face him. “Why don’t you choose me?”

“Are you sure, you’re putting a lot of trust in me. This decision could either make or break us.” He joked moving with you as the person in front stepped up to order. You smiled, shaking your head, bringing up a hand and intertwining it with the one Seokmin had around you.

“I guess you better choose wisely then.”

In the end Seokmin ended up ordering four different flavors of boba tea. All this favorite.

The cashier had given the two of you strange looks, probably wondering why the hell two people needed four drinks and it only made you laugh even harder. Seokmin had given you a pointed look before breaking into a smile, that you swore could light up every room. It made your heart skip a beat, fill you up with happiness that you hadn’t felt ever since that day at the park with Vernon. Making you realize that that was the last time you had felt that type of happiness. 

“So why four?”

“I just ordered all my favorites, just in case my favorite favorite wasn’t your favorite.” Seokmin placed two of the drinks down onto the table, the two of you indiscreetly walked too. He waited for you to take your seat before taking his, at his respectful side of the tiny booth.

“So, which one is your favorite favorite?” You leaned your elbows forward toying with the plastic wrap of one of the straws.

“The mango green tea one.” He nodded pushing the drink in question towards you. You snickered, breaking the plastic wrap, lifting your hand to break the lid, stopping short when you noticed Seokmin’s hand covering the lid. “Before you try it, promise me this won’t be our first and last date.” He whispered his eyes all but pleading making your heart sink.

Sighing you brought your hand down, setting the straw aside. You put your hands over his, lifting it up to your lips, giving them a gentle kiss. You couldn’t blame him for asking. You had ignored him for almost three months, only answering his good morning and good night texts. He had every right to doubt you and your word. Without his knowledge you were putting back the pieces that were left behind after five years of living in a perfect illusion. Vernon still lived in the back of your mind, sometimes his memories still made your heart flutter and the what if’s still kept you up at night.

It was a conversation you needed to have with Seokmin, he didn’t deserve to be lied to or kept in the dark, especially because your heart wasn’t all that there yet. And because his was still innocent and pure, but for tonight you would bask in your dream world. Make promises you weren’t sure you could keep yet, because a part of you was starting to desperately cling onto him. 

“Seokmin I promise.”

There was a first time for everything.

And for the first time in your life you had laughed so hard to the point you had milk tea coming out of your nose.

“Sorry.” Seokmin’s demeanor fell, stopping his over dramatic retelling of how he and his friends came to own a pottery studio. He panicked, a troubled expression replacing his soft gaze, scrambling to get a napkin out of the holder. You tried to regain your breathing as he handed you a handful of napkins, but your imagination took over and you doubled over in laughter, your forehead coming down onto the table. The images of Seokmin and his friends dressed as cats, dancing and singing along to the musical soundtrack in order to convince the previous owner to hand over the studio with the first six months of rent paid. Replaying in your mind like a movie reel.

“D-Don’t be t-that’s the funniest thing someone’s ever told me, and I’ve known Seungkwan for half of my adult life.” You panted and placed your hand on your chest, your stomach throbbing in blissful pain. Seokmin smiled, his cheeks blushing red. He reached over cradling your cheek gently, wiping your nose. The situation finally became clear and you flushed in embarrassment.

“You’re cute.” He whispered, his face lighting up before he gave your cheek an awkward kiss from across the table. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself here today more than I have my entire life.” You let out a small laugh, your hand coming up to your forehead and hitting it lightly with the palm of your hand. 

“Like I said, you’re cute.” Seokmin removed your hand, locking his fingers with yours before sitting back in his seat. “Can I come sit over there?” You toyed with the straw of your drink, signaling to the empty space next to him with your head. Seokmin nodded, tugging on your hand lightly signaling that his impatience was close to take over. You removed your hand from his hold and stood up. He eyed you carefully as you smoothed out your dress, the light blue hue brought out the beauty of your smooth skin. It complimented the sparkle that lived behind your eyes making them look as if they held the entire universe behind them.

For the first time in his entire life, Seokmin finally understood the hype around the color blue. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder after you sat down. You put your head on his shoulder, blushing when you felt his body stiffen. “Will you take me to the studio one day?” Your index finger coming up to play with the water ring your drinks had left behind on the table.

“If you do me a favor.” He swallowed trying his best to get his body to relax, but it felt as if it were on fire and no amount of water would be able to put it out. “I’m not dressing up as a cat and dancing for you, if that’s what you want.” You looked up as he started to cough, his eyes wide as he choked on air due to your statement. His mind wandered to places it shouldn’t ever wander and he wanted to slap himself mentally as well as physically. You sat up and patted his back, a knowing smile forming on your face and made a mental note to add what you had said to the list of embarrassing things that had happened today.

“N-No nothing like that, t-that wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know I was just messing with you.” You poked his nose and it only made him blush even harder, and it made your ego swell knowing you had such an effect on him. “What is it?”

“Please stop calling me Seokmin, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble with my mom.” He chuckled awkwardly, bringing up a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it awkwardly. “What do I call you then?” You cocked your head to the side, bringing a hand up to smooth the collar of his button down shirt. It had been bothering you the entire night, but you didn’t have it in you to fix it. Afraid you were crossing a boundary either of you were ready to cross. But seeing as how the events were playing out you assumed it was alright.

“Call me DK.”

“Like the video game character?” Another fit of laughter threatening to break through the surface. Seokmin sighed, shaking his head in disbelief before pulling you close to his body. “Could be, but it’s short for Dokyeom.” He grabbed your hand from his chest and hooked his pinky with yours, swinging them in front of your bodies. You acknowledged, taking in your bottom lip in between your teeth. The butterflies that had been growing throughout the night in the pit of your stomach were having a field day. It was scary, you had only known him for almost three hours, and you were reading to risk it all once again.

“How about I call you baby instead?”

“Say it one more time?” Seokmin had you pressed against the outside wall of your apartment. Your hold on the doorknob faltered as you felt his lips hover over your own. “Baby,” You whispered, finally letting go of the doorknob and wrapping your arm around his neck.

“That’s my new favorite song.” He stated pressing your body closer to his, lifting you away from the wall. “Is that so…baby.” Seokmin groaned hiding his face in the crook of your neck. A tiny laugh falling out of your lips. You wrapped your hands around him, running your hands down his back gently.

“Please let me kiss you.”

Seokmin pleaded, lifting his head up to face you. A teasing smirk settling on your lips as you took the disparity behind his beautiful eyes. “Nope, you haven’t earned that privilege yet.” You pushed him away gently, stepping aside and finally entering the passcode to your front door. 

“Ask me to be your girlfriend first.” You turned the doorknob, his arms snaking around your waist, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, the adrenaline you had felt throughout the night intimidating a breakthrough. 

“Will you be my gir—.” You turned around quickly covering his mouth with your hand, the panic evident behind his glimmering eyes. “Not here, not now Seokmin.” You brought your hand down and he pulled away, taking his arms with him. “You’re right I’m sorry.” He hit his forehead gently with a closed fist, mumbling indiscreetly underneath his breath. For a second you thought you had ruined everything.

“I-I want you to be sure first, I don’t want to rush into anything.” You said as reassuringly as possible, the tiny fear demon in your mind finally coming out to play as it filled you with your doubts “I know, I’m sorry…sometimes I get too carried away, but I meant what I said the first time I met you.” He stuffed his hands inside his pockets, shrugging awkwardly. “I just hope that one day you can tell me what’s holding you back.”

“Seokmin it’s just that I—.”

“You don’t have to tell me today, but I promise I’ll listen to you when you’re ready.” He nodded closing the gap you had created and gave your forehead a gentle kiss. “Goodnight, sleep tight…baby.” He winked before stepping back and walking out of your line of sight leaving you breathless and overwhelmed, to the point where all you wanted to do was cry, because to say the least you were still scared and confused.  

You let out a sigh and turned around punching in the passcode, impatiently waiting for the door to click open. You angrily shuffled inside your apartment, closing the door behind you. You placed your forehead against it, toeing off your shoes and pushing them aside. You took a deep breath and counted to ten before facing Seungkwan who was without a doubt going to be waiting for you to hear all about how your date went. You plastered on your best fake smile, going over points Seungkwan was sure to ask in your head and turned around, expecting to see him on the couch dramatically twirling a glass of Rosé in his hand. 

And you wished that’s what you were met with, but like always the universe had its way of working and for a while it had been working against you. So of course, you were met with Seungkwan, a forgotten bottle of Rosé on the coffee table as he held onto Vernon while he sobbed into his arms.

“W-What’s wrong?”

The minute you laid eyes on Vernon you felt like your whole world collapsed into tiny shards of glass at your feet. You couldn’t breathe. It was as if your lungs were being crushed by two weights of pressure. You stood there in the middle of the living room, your words getting caught at the back of your throat, while Seungkwan ushered a sobbing Vernon out into the balcony of the small apartment. Leaving you behind to deal with your own curses. Seungkwan gave you one last sympathetic look almost as if he were telling you that he had everything under control. Yet, it didn’t help ease your newfound anxiousness as all you wanted to do was run outside and push Seungkwan away to comfort the boy you once loved. The same one a part of your soul still loved and held onto for dear life in fear that one day you would wake up and forget what it was like to ever be loved by him.

It was overwhelming. The feeling bubbled up inside of you as you retreated from the living room and made your way into your own room, looking for an escape. You were met with your four walls and memories that were buried deep into the archives of your mind started to play. Reminding you just how much you truly longed for Vernon. Reminding you just how much craved for his touch. 

It was cruel. The tricks your mind was playing on you and for a moment you let it consume you. Deciding that this was it for you and you had a good but unfortunate run but it was too much for your poor body to handle.

Like that the seconds passed and then came the minutes and eventually four hours had gone by with you having no recollection of what you had done. How you changed out of your blue dress or when you had replied to Seokmin’s text with a simple: I’m fine, miss you already. Another lie you could add onto your belt. Your self hatred growing as time slowed down everything around you making it seem as if you were underwater.

Maybe one day you’ll finally be strong enough to face him and tell him the truth. Open your chest up to him and let him in on your soul crushing secret because he deserved to know the truth. But that time wasn’t now, at least not while you sat against the door frame of your bedroom door. Looking out into a dark lonely hallway hoping that the next person to come through wasn’t the one you wanted to hold.

You wanted to scream out into the void. Scream at the universe for being so cruel. Scream at Seokmin for finding you when you were still hurting. And you wanted to scream at Vernon for showing up in such a state that made you want to drop everything and give him the entire world again. But whenever you opened your mouth nothing but silence came out. Leaving you behind to deal with feelings you didn’t fully understand.

“He wants to see you.” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back down to Earth. You looked up, running your hands over your tear stained face, meeting his pained expression. Another thing you could add to the list of things you hated about yourself.

Seungkwan didn’t deserve to be caught in between two broken people and act as their mediator. He deserved a life where he wasn’t constantly picking up the pieces and breaking his neck to offer comfort to two selfish people that clearly did not deserve it. Every night you found yourself hoping he’d finally realized this. You hoped he’d leave you behind and continue the life he had put on pause for you and Vernon. You hoped he could find better friends that finally saw him as someone more than just a shoulder to cry. Your wishes falling onto deaf ears because he was still here wiping away your tears.

“He wants to talk to you.” He crouched down in front of you and gently flicked your forehead. “I don’t want to see him.” You whispered resting your cheek against your knees as you avoided his eyes and looked out into the dark hallway again. “I’m scared.” A tiny sob fell out of his lips as he sighed, taking a seat in front of you.

“Not as scared as he is right now.” Seungkwan placed a hand on top of your head and smoothed out the frizziness that had occurred over your neglect. “I helped him as much as I could now I’m passing the torch down on to you because I think you can offer him a lot more than what I can.”

“I can’t...a broken person can’t help another broken person. We tried it before and it ended in a mess.”

“Then don’t try to help him and just listen to him.”

“What if I say or do something wrong and I just make everything worse?.” You lifted up your head and met Seungkwan’s frustrated gaze. He ran his soft hands over your cheeks wiping away the tears that had silently started to decorate your face again. He placed a soft comforting kiss against your forehead before standing up and offered you his hands.

“I doubt you can make him feel even worse than he already does.”

You held the beer cans Seungkwan had laughably shoved in your arms close to your chest. Your eyes stung from the salty tears that had been pouring out. It frustrated you because it seemed like the only thing you could do nowadays was cry. It made you feel weak and worthless.

There was a little voice in the back of your head that was scolding you. Telling you to suck it up because whatever was going on with Vernon had nothing to do with you or the beautiful tragic past the two of you shared. You had realized this hours ago, yet you still cried as if you were the one at fault or the one feeling his pain with him. 

That was something the universe didn’t take into account when she had rudely decided to split the two of you up. No matter what happened or where the two of you ended up in life you’d always be connected by a single string. Your life lines belonged to one another, the pain he felt you felt it to. 

Maybe that was the aftermath of this whole soulmate fiasco or maybe it was something you made up to give yourself comfort. But at least he didn’t have to endure it all alone.

You took a deep breath before sliding open the balcony door. The humidity of the summer air hitting you square in the face causing the feeling of suffocation to return. Yet somehow it still sent shivers up your spin as if it were winter. A side effect of being in the presence of your past lover.

His back was turned to you and you would’ve thought he hadn’t noticed you if it weren’t for the awkward shift of his legs and the tension in the air. He looked down at the nightlife that had started to crowd the streets for their daily rituals. A soft hot breeze blew dancing with a few strands of his hair, while the annoying billboard that covered the sky view from your bedroom window casted a faint spotlight on him.

“You wanted to see me?” You cleared your throat and closed the balcony door behind you. Vernon turned around, his swollen eyes and tear stained face matched yours. “Can I give you a hug?” He choked out, his lips trembling slightly. You nodded and placed the beer cans down onto the small patio table before closing the gap between the two of you. A broken sob fell out of his lips when your arms finally found their way around his frame. You held him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling the goosebumps rise along your arms as you rubbed soothing circles down his back. Your own eyes brimming with tears as you felt him shake in your arms and it broke you.

“What happened?” You broke the silence with the question that had been lingering in your mind for hours. Vernon raised his head and you reached over to gently wipe away his tears with the sleeves of your hoodie. He pulled away from you once you retreated your hands and walked over to the balcony railing, turning his back to you. You were left standing there unsure if you should follow him or keep your feet planted in the spot a few feet away from him.

“I think the world has a personal vendetta against me.” He shrugged, breaking the suffocating silence. You grabbed the beer cans and walked over and stood next to him. “That’s a pretty big claim don’t you think?” You handed him a can. His fingertips slightly brushing over yours, sending a jolt of sparkling shivers up your spine.

“The person I saw myself growing old with turned out to not be the person the universe had picked out for me and the person the universe did pick out for me died last night. I’d say it’s the right claim to make.” He laughed bitterly opening the beer can and taking a generous drink from it.

“L-Last night, Vernon you’re not shitting me are you? I just had lunch with them yesterday.” You shook your head bringing a hand up to your face and slapping your cheeks gently. Your head didn’t want to settle down and your heart was starting to speed up. It was impossible you had seen them not even twenty four hours ago. You had laughed over a funny video on their phone and bonded over a book two of you had been consequently reading.

“You two were friends?” Vernon exclaimed his voice containing hints of underlying shock and confusion. “I guess we were.” You shrugged and opened up your beer can. “I didn’t mean to befriend them at first. I reached out to them after you left cause I knew you were in contact with them and since Kwanie wasn’t telling me anything about you at first. I thought that if I got close to them, they would eventually bring you up and I’d finally know how you were.” You finished bringing the can up to your lips and took a few sips. The bitter taste hitting your tongue making you groan in annoyance.

“Did I come up?” He glanced over at you, a sneaky smirk forming on his lips at your confusion. “Only when they found a way to insert an apology over the events of that night. Even after all the times I had told them that it was fine. That I was fine.”

“Are you fine?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” You grinned, bumping your hips with his making him stumble. “Everyone already has. I wanted to spice things up for once.” He smiled up at the night sky. You watched making it obvious that you were. The stars sparkled behind his tired eyes reminding you of all the wishes you had made whenever you looked into them. Some of them came true others didn’t and it had torn you apart until one day it didn’t.

“I don’t matter right now Vernon.” You took a sip from your beer cringing at the taste once again. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t drinking for the pleasure, but for the strength you needed to be next to him right now.

Vernon blew out a raspberry and took the last sip of his beer before turning to face you. He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips kissing each of your knuckles before placing it on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch basking in the feeling of having you next to him again. You took a deep breath as the hand holding his beer can circled around your waist and brought you close. He opened his eyes once he felt your chest against his, soft eyes running over your features carefully taking in everything that had stayed the same but had also subtly changed. Vernon freed your hand letting his fingers run up your arm until they reached your chin.

His touch ignited your insides. The world falling away over the horizon leaving two broken souls behind reveling in each other's warmth once again.

“You will always matter to me.”

You tried everything to keep the tension between the two of you at bay. To keep your focus on his words rather than the way his lips moved as he explained his soulmate’s unfortunate death.

It had been a hit and run and it filled you up with anger. Anger that you had never once had the privilege of experiencing until the words escaped Vernon’s mouth. “I just feel guilty. I never gave them a chance. I ran away when I realized things wouldn’t go back to normal and now I’m sure I’m being punished for it.” Vernon sighed and brought his fourth beer up to his lips, taking a decent sip from it before gazing over at you. His eyes shined as if they held a thousand tiny little universes and you found it difficult to look away.

The space between the two of you disappeared and you found yourselves shifting closer to one another as if pulled by two magnets. Your legs were resting on top of his thighs and his warm hand wrapped around your calves, rubbing soothing circles against your skin. The light of the billboard casted a warm glow onto the two of you making the setting a little more intimate than intended. But neither of you found yourselves complaining. 

“Vernon, don’t say that...they understood our situation and they wanted to wait until you were ready.” You reached over and pushed a fallen strand of his hair back, your heart beating out time and you felt as if the entire world had stopped. It was a known fact that you two were reaching into uncharted territory but neither of you wanted to hit the brakes just yet. Maybe it was the unfinished business between the two of you or the lingering feelings that would always remain. But you had decided to blame it on your vulnerability, the stupid billboard light and the beers shared between the two of you.

Whatever it was, you didn’t want it to stop.

“I think I really could’ve loved them.” Vernon let out a sigh and sat back, his hand squeezing your calf. “Maybe not in the way I loved you, but in a way that could’ve been special between the two of us. I talked to them almost every day and each time I found my heart jumping out of my chest. It was as if I was a kid in high school again scared to comfort their crush.” He sighed and looked up at the sky, silently counting the tiny little dots of light that could’ve been stars or planets from universes across.

You watched him carefully, finally taking in how much he had changed from the last time you saw him. He had grown out a little bit of stubble, slight bags stood underneath his eyes and his cheeks were red from the sun. A clear indication that he had not once thought of putting on sunscreen and you wondered if he did it to hear your voice nagging him in the back of his mind. Or if he finally felt free to do whatever he wanted. Either way he was different, not just physically but there was something about him you couldn’t pinpoint. And it frustrated you because before you would have been able to read him as if he were your favorite book. Now you had lost a few pages along the way and you didn’t know where to turn too anymore.

“So what happens now?” You whispered tilting your head to the side, the droplets of your forgotten beer running down your fingers. He sighed and looked over at you before reaching over and massaging the creases between your brows. He always scolded you about it, told you your face was a piece of art and didn’t need any extra tension. And although you had never believed him before and brushed it off as a joke, the way he was looking at you as if you were his entire world made you believe him.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I can still see the world in all its glory, the colors haven’t faded and I don’t think they will.” He brought his hand down your face and cradled your cheek gently. “I think they were it for me. I just wish we had more time.” He nodded before running his index finger across your cheek and down the bridge of your nose stopping just above your cupid’s bow. “But can I tell you a secret.” His eyes filled with hope as the words spilled out of his mouth.

“As long as you don’t make me keep it.”

“You will always be my favorite color.”

It was wrong.

The way Vernon’s lips danced against the skin of your neck as he pushed you up against your bedroom door, was wrong. He wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his but you felt the flame burn deep inside you. One that had gone out long before the universe took the man in front of you away. You were feeling it again and letting it consume your entire being. You didn’t want it to stop. 

“We have to be quiet.” You moaned out, fingers playing with the hem of your old graphic tee that you were sure had belonged to him. From what you could remember it had smelled like him once and somewhere along the creases he had left his mark.

“Seems a bit challenging for you.” He teased and pulled away, his lips leaving your skin making you feel empty. He smirked and circled his arms around your waist letting them travel down your back and landing on your ass before giving it a squeeze making you yelp in surprise. He chuckled and pulled you close, “Thought you said we needed to be quiet?” He quirked an eyebrow before leaning down letting his lips hover above yours.

“F-Fuck...just kiss me already.” You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his head closer, but he restrained from closing the gap and you let out a desperate whine. “I miss you angel, I miss you so much I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He confessed his words making their way into your heart and locking themselves in. The little voice in the back of your head yelling at you to stop but you pushed it aside, desperate to feel his warmth again.

“Then don’t”

Vernon’s lips crashed onto yours barely letting the words leave your mouth. You could taste the bitter alcohol on his breath, a reminder that neither of you where in the right mind to be doing this. Yet the fire between the two of you grew. You found yourself ignored the flaring alarms going off in your head again as you kissed him back with the same hunger he was kissing you.

He tapped the side of your hip and mumbled an almost incoherent jump and you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his waist while he held you as close as he could. He pushed the two of you away from the door, his lips desperately dancing against yours. The crude sounds the two of you were making bounced off your bedroom walls and you were sure the two of you were being anything but quiet.

Vernon pulled away and carried you over to your desk removing everything he could before setting you down on top of you. You pushed yourself against him letting the back of your hand brush against the collar of his shirt. He smirked and gave it a tiny peck before finally bringing your shirt over your head and throwing it somewhere behind him.

“Still as beautiful as I remember.” He hummed your face heated up as he attacked your neck again. This time making sure he was leaving his mark on you one last time. You threw your head back moaning his name lost in the pleasure he was giving you when your peripherals caught sight of something that made your heart stop.

The faded yellow of the withered sunflower’s Seokmin had given you were now staring at you in disapproval. You felt your breathing regain speed and it wasn’t because of the way Vernon’s lips traveled down the navel of your breasts. No, it was because reality finally decided to hit you and you were once again planted back down onto Earth.

“Vernon stop.” You choked out. The flame inside of you dying and quickly replacing itself with the poison fear brought with it. Vernon stopped his movements and pulled away as fast as he could. You saw the concern wash over his soft features as his eyes ran all over your face. “What happened, did I do something wrong?” His words raced out of his lungs at the speed of light and he cradled your face in his hands. The tears soon started up again as Seokmin’s laugh rang in your ears. His broken face staring back at you when you had denied him earlier that evening made you feel as if you were the worst human being on planet Earth.

“W-We can’t do this Vernon.” You shook your head trying to avoid his gaze and placed a hand against his chest before pushing him away. Vernon sighed, letting his eyes land on your flower face and somehow he had finally understood what happened. “I know, I’m sorry...I should’ve stopped the minute I kissed you.” His shoulders fell letting the guilt wash over him like a tidal wave. His confession left you broken but he didn’t try to fight you or himself. Instead he created the space you need to breathe and looked around your room for your shirt.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have egged you on.” You pushed yourself off your desk not caring about the things that had fallen onto the floor and grabbed your shirt from Vernon’s hand. He grinned watching you slip it on before sitting down at the edge of your bed, his forearms resting on his knees.

“We’ve got to be the most fucked up people in this cruel world.” He laughed letting himself fall back onto your bed. You shook your head before sitting down next to him. “Maybe we did something to piss someone off in our past lives and now we’re paying for it.” You shrugged, poking his side lightly making him fold over from the jab that ran through his body.

“Whatever it was...it must’ve been bad.” Vernon mumbled and looked up at your ceiling. The silence raining down over the two of you like a protective shield. Your heart was starting to return to its normal state but the guilt and confusion consumed you greatly. You knew you wouldn’t sleep tonight. You wanted to ask Vernon to stay and keep you company and you almost did as you watched him shut his eyes, peace washing over his body and you wondered what it was like to be held by this new version of him. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside deciding that there were boundaries you needed to start setting up for both of your sakes.

After all, neither of you belonged to each other anymore.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You finally broke the silence after sitting in it for what felt like hours. He opened his eyes slowly blinking back the sleep as he sat up. “Probably the couch.” He stood up running a hand through his hair before turning to face you. His eyes bore into yours gently and you knew there was something he wanted to tell you but whatever it was it looked like you had to live without knowing because what came out of his mouth was not what you had expected. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded before walking over to your door.

“Goodnight Hansol.” You whispered making him stop dead in his tracks, his birth name falling foreign onto his untrained ears. There was a time in his life where he loved the way your voice danced whenever you said it, but now he realized that he didn’t anymore and that was the hardest pill he would ever have to swallow. So he gave you the gift of a small nod before exiting your room, leaving you behind in your cold bedroom. Your soul felt as if it were in a pool of muddy water and all you wanted to do was call Seokmin, apologize and tell him everything.

“Can you please talk to me?” 

You trailed behind Seungkwan as he pushed the shopping cart into the frozen aisle of the grocery store. 

A week had passed since you accidentally found yourself pinned against your bedroom door with Vernon. A week had passed since the two of you decided to finally start setting boundaries for one another after Seungkwan had scolded the two of you like teenagers on the couch. Since then he had been giving the two of you the silent treatment. A punishment until you and Vernon came to terms with how wrong your actions had been, or so that’s what Seungkwan claimed. 

You knew you had been in the wrong, you knew you should’ve never let it get as far as it did. The disgusting guilt consumed you whenever you saw Vernon wander around the apartment like he owned the place. It tugged on your heartstrings whenever Seungkwan glared at you for standing an inch too close to your ex lover. It feasted upon your flesh whenever you stayed up until the morning dew fogged up your windows, talking to Seokmin. Nothing between the two of you was official yet, and that had been your doing because you couldn’t seem to find a way to confess to him without hurting him and yourself in the process. 

“Nope, not until you tell Dokyeom what happened.” Seungkwan huffed, stopping the shopping cart in front of the frozen pizza freezer. It was your weekly movie night. It had surprised you when Seungkwan brought it up in passing over breakfast that morning because you had assumed with how things were going, and now that Vernon had decided to stay, he would’ve cancelled it. 

“I will, I promise I will. I-I just don’t know how or when.” You walked in front of Seungkwan and opened the freezer door reaching in to grab the triple cheese stuffed crust frozen pizza. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You sighed as you placed down the large box inside of the cart that was filled with an assortment of junk food. 

“That’s the problem BooBoo the fool, you hurt him the second you let Vernon inside your heart again.” He held the freezer door open and reached inside grabbing the frozen hawaiian pizza, making you scrunch your face in disgust. In all the years you had known Seungkwan his taste in pizza was the only flaw he had, though he claimed it was an acquired taste that only the elite understood.

“What am I supposed to do then Kwanie, Vernon will always hold a piece of my heart whether I want him to or not. I spent half a decade loving him and shit like that can’t be forgotten in a few months.” You took liberty in closing the freezer door after Seungkwan had finished grabbing everything else you needed for the movie night. “I feel like you’re being really unfair right now.” 

“I’m not saying you should forget about Vernon, the guys living with us for crying out loud. And he is my best friend, but I’m trying to get you and him to realize that your story together is over and has been for a while. It sucks that the two of you got ripped away from one another, but you know how I always tell you that everything happens for a reason?” Seungkwan glanced over at you while you nodded along to what he was saying, “Then there’s a reason why the two of you were never meant to be.”

“And what reason could that be?”

“Let him go and you’ll find out.”

Whoever reserved Wednesday nights as movie nights, deserves the guillotine. 

Though as much as you hated that they were planted in the smack middle of the week. You will  never complain about it out loud, because you knew it had been your idea to hold them every Wednesday after a very heated argument with Seungkwan that you surprisingly had won. But if you dared to ever mutter out a complaint, he would make sure to never let you hear the end of it. 

“One movie, I have to wake up early for my job interview tomorrow.” You pleaded looking over at the clock that hung over the t.v, that also didn’t work. You had promised you would change the batteries to it months ago but forgotten. You suspected that the only reason Seungkwan hadn’t taken matters into his own hands was because he wanted it to serve as an annoying reminder for you. 

“Wait, you have a job interview?” Vernon exclaimed in surprise as he walked out of the kitchen in a hurry with the pizza box burning his hands. “Yeah, at the school a few blocks away from here.” You shrugged, throwing the pillows you were carrying in your hands onto the makeshift fort the three of you had tried to create. Keyword tired, it was falling apart the more you stared at it. 

“You’re going to be a teacher again?” Vernon’s face lit up as he set down the pizza box onto the coffee table that had been decorated to the T with all the junk food you and Seungkwan brought home. Seungkwan cleared his throat as he came into the living room again, his arms overflowing with all the blankets he could find. He threw them down landing on top of the pillows you had once held in your hands, before crossing his arms in front of him, closely eyeing the two of you.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to Vernon who had taken it upon himself to start digging into the hawaiian pizza, “I hope so, a job position opened up last week so I decided to send in my resume and they called me on Monday to schedule an interview.” 

“That’s great--ow, bubs, I’m really happy for you.” Vernon said as he fanned his mouth after stupidly biting into the fresh out of the oven pizza. You nodded and turned to face Seungkwan who was glaring at Vernon while he ate his precious fit for royalty pizza. 

“Let’s hope I get it, nothing is set in stone yet.” 

“They’d be fools to not hire you. You’re amazing. I know they’d fall for you the second they hear how passionate you are about teaching.” Vernon assured as he blew onto his pizza, stopping to look at you for a split second, “I know I did.” He shrugged before tearing his eyes away from yours and taking another bite out of his pizza, making an O shape with his mouth to avoid getting burned again. 

It was strange. If Vernon would have told those exact words last week out on the balcony, you would’ve melted at his feet. You would’ve never stopped him from going any further and you would’ve probably tried to erase Seokmin from your mind. But hearing those words escape Vernon’s pink lips now that he stood in your living room arguing with Seungkwan about hawaiian pizza. His words did nothing for you. They didn’t make your heart race, they didn’t make your palms sweat and they didn’t make your ears flare up in heat. 

The only thing his words did was etch their way into your heart and fill you up with nostalgia, but not the kind that had you longing for his touch. The kind that made you happy that you had once been able to call him yours once. Maybe it was sign or step one of you finally being able to move on.

“Thanks Soli, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You were pacing in front of the main office for what seemed like hours, trying to calm your nerves down. You figured that moving around was better than sitting still and letting your thoughts race through your head, while you were at stand still. Though pacing wasn’t working either because your interview was scheduled to be at nine and it was nearing ten, and the dirty looks from the receptionist wasn’t helping your case either. 

“Jeonghan I don’t know what you want me to do? I already sat down with the two of them and told them violence is never the answer.” The door to the administration office finally opened making the receptionist sigh out a sign of relief. As you scrambled to collect the stuff you had placed down on the waiting chairs behind you, you made a mental note to apologize to her before you left today. 

“Seokmin don’t worry about it...I’ll contact the parents and see where we can go from there.” You felt the air catch itself in your throat as you slowly turned around to meet a very worried looking Seokmin. He hadn’t noticed you yet and you hoped he wouldn’t because the last thing you needed was to have him running through your mind during your interview. So, you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlight while he continued chatting with the other man next to him. His voice filled with concern and it made your heart swell knowing how much he seemed to care about the issue at hand. 

“Oh you must be here for the new teacher position right?” An unfamiliar voice sounded making you jump out of your days and thank god it did because you were about to let your mind wander to what having kids with Seokmin would be like. And that was something you weren’t ready to imagine, especially not when he looked good enough to eat in his work clothes.

“U-Um yeah I’m--”

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Seokmin finally noticed you. The excitement in his voice made the heat flare up along your face and you tightened your hold on your things pressing them against your chest,  as your eyes traveled from his sparkling ones to the very shocked ones of the receptionist and finally landing on the man next to him who was out of this world confused. “Sweetheart? You two know each other?” He questioned signaling to the space between you and Seokmin with his index finger. 

“Hannie this is the girl I’ve been telling you guys about.” 

“Oh, the one you never shut up about.” He nodded, sending you a knowing wink. Was there anything worse than your possible future boss finding out you were in cahoots with one of his teacher’s before actually getting the job? Probably not because you were currently wishing for the ground to swallow you up. But it made you feel a little better knowing Seokmin was wishing the same thing, judging from the redness of his cheeks. 

“I-I’m here to get interviewed for the new teacher position.” You nodded reassuring yourself more than anything. “I didn’t know you were a teacher, I thought you owned a pottery studio?” You looked at Seokmin who was cutely rubbing the back of his neck as he giggled underneath his breath. Your heart convulsing and now you weren’t so sure you wanted the job if it meant having your heart erupting out of your chest twenty four seven, seven days a week.

“I do, but Minghao runs it during the week with our other friend Mingyu. Soonyoung and I are in charge of it during the weekends.” He smiled and took a step forward ignoring the looks Jeonghan and the receptionist were giving one another, and somehow you knew this whole situation was going to be the hot topic of the week in the teacher’s lounge. “I’m really glad you’re here.” He finally closed the distance before pulling you in for a hug, “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you.” He whispered before kissing your temple lightly and pulling away. 

“Alright, lovebird you have a science class to teach and I have an interview to conduct.” Jeonghan voiced shooing Seokmin with his hands making your sweet lover boy laugh. 

“Good luck baby.” Seokmin threw you a kiss before exiting the main office, the door closing in behind him. Leaving you alone and deserted with your smirking future boss and nosey receptionist. Your nerves had subsided to almost nothing but now your mind was consumed with Seokmin and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive your interview without letting your mind wander to the loving future that was creeping up on you. 

Jeonghan huffed and turned on his heels signaling for you to follow him, “I hope you know that just because my best friend and one of my teachers is head over heels for you, doesn’t mean you get special treatment. I still need to make sure you’re right for the job, and let me tell you sweetheart you have competition.”

“I didn’t expect you to go easy on me anyway.” 

Jeonghan closed the file he had in front of him before lacing his fingers together on top of them and leaned forward, eyeing you closely. “Can I give you some advice?” Jeonghan titled his head, his glasses that didn’t have lenses sliding off the bridge of his nose. The entire time he was interviewing you had tried your best to not laugh at his ridiculous antics. But seeing as this was your first and most likely last time you were going to see him, you figured that you would keep it to yourself for now.

“U-Um yeah...of course.” You rushed out a little too eagerly, your nerves once again getting the best of you. They had been in control for the twenty minutes Jeonghan had been interviewing you, but now as he stared you down, you felt your nerves coming crashing down like an ocean wave.

“I’m hesitant on hiring you, your track record is spotless and you’re probably the best candidate for the job--” He sighed and ran a bony hand through his dark hair while leaning back in his chair. You knew your rejection was coming but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. You were hoping to at least make it home cry about how awful your interview had gone before burying yourself in a pint of cookie dough ice cream while Seungkwan lectured you all whilst simultaneously trying to keep your hopes up.

“--But I don’t know how I feel about two of my teacher’s dating, especially if you’re going to have the evidence on full display.” He raised his pen and pointed to the side of your neck where you knew Vernon’s evidence was still on you, a reminder of the sin you had committed a week ago. Your eyes grew wide as you panicked and slapped your hand on the side of your neck. A smirk appeared on Jeonghan’s face as he smugly crossed his arms in front of him. The realization hit you a little too late because now it became clear that he was only testing you and sadly you had failed.

“I’m sorry, um...I--I.” You shook your head, your hand falling down slowly and landing on your lap. There was nothing you could say in order to fix your mistake, you could only hope that Jeonghan wasn’t one of those people who loved to gossip because the last thing you wanted was to ruin a relationship that hadn’t gotten the chance to blossom. “Can you please not tell Seokmin.” A soft whisper fell from your lips, aware that you were throwing yourself under the bus, but what else could you do?  You had already lost the job, you didn’t want to lose Seokmin as well, at least not yet.

“Ah, so it’s not from Dokyeom...bummer I was ready to tease him about it all week..” He shrugged and leaned his elbows on his desk along with his body. “So you’re two timing him? And here I was starting to believe that our precious Dokyeom had finally found love.” He tsked, shaking his head, “I must say I’m incredibly disappointed, I thought I was the cruel one.” 

“No, no, no, it’s not like that, it’s just--,” Your hands had started to shake on your lap, underneath Jeonghan’s amused stare. “--it’s complicated, more than you can imagine.” The confession stumbled out and you heard him let out a dry laugh. 

“I have no doubt in my mind that whatever the situation is, is not an easy one but I suggest figuring your shit out before roping in one of my friends. Dokyeom has been through enough and I have no idea how he still keeps that smile of his on his face knowing the shit he’s been through.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know you don’t believe me but I have been trying.” 

“You’re right I don’t but I’m also not the one that needs to believe you.” He shrugged standing up from his chair and rounded the corner of his desk, stopping in front of you and leaning against it. “This isn’t a conversation you and I need to have, and all I ask of you is to have it with the person that’s meant to hear your words.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you nodded and smoothed down the wrinkles of your dress. “Thank you for the interview.” 

“Cheer up princess.” He laughed and extended his hand in front of him for you to take. You looked up at him hesitantly before grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. “You got the job.” He smiled before letting go of your hand and walking towards his office door leaving you behind as you tried to figure out if you heard him right. “Now come on it’s almost lunchtime, I’m starving and we have a ton of paperwork to sign.”

“Wait you’re not shitting me are you?” 

“If I was, I would’ve told you to leave the second you answered my first question, now let’s go.” He signaled you over while opening the door. You scrambled tripping over the leg of the chair you had just been sitting in making him roll his eyes. Now you understood why he had called himself the cruel one because Yoon Jeonghan was quite literally the reincarnation of the devil. 

“Excuse my language but you’re an asshole.” 

“I’ve been called worse sweetheart.” 

“Are we celebrating?” Seungkwan’s voice excitedly boomed through the speaker of your phone as you climbed up the steps of your apartment building. After you had gone through the mountain of paper’s that Jeonghan and the school district had you signing. You had declined his offer on having lunch with him and all the other teachers, giving him the poor excuse of already having lunch plans with your best friend. You could tell he wanted to say something but instead he bid you farewell before telling you to come over on Friday after school for a tour of the school, as well as to show you where your classroom was going to be. “Please tell me we’re celebrating, I already sent Hansol to buy the cake, the streamers, balloons, champagne and the pizza.” 

“I get my classroom on Friday and I start next Wednesday.” You voiced while punching in the code to enter your building, the buzzer sounded indicating that you could enter the lobby. You heard screaming from the other side of the phone followed by shushing noises. “Focus on your job Kwanie.” 

“But this is more exciting,” He whined, making you shake your head in disbelief. If Seungkwan wasn’t the best entertainment lawyer at his firm you were sure he would’ve been fired ages ago. “How’d the interview go, I’m guessing good because now you’re employed.”

“It went awful, trust me I was expecting to still be unemployed.” You pressed the button to the elevator, watching as the numbers counted down slowly. The anticipation of getting into your bed again was killing you as the numbers got closer to the ground floor. “Then how do you have a job now?” Seungkwan questioned before letting out a gasp at the same time the elevator dinged announcing it’s rival. “You didn’t...you know, do inappropriate things to get the job did you?” 

“I’m offended that you’ve known me for years and yet still think so lowly of me.” You entered the elevator and pressed the number to your floor, leaning against the elevator railings and watched as the doors closed in front of you. “Of course I didn’t.”

“I don’t know after what happened last week, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” 

“Jeonghan lectured me already about this after my interview. I don’t need you hanging it over my head again.” 

“Wait bubs, who’s Jeonghan.”

“Oh, my boss.” The elevator stopped and slowly opened its doors. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked out, bringing your purse in front of you to fish out the keys to your apartment. “I think you two would get along, you're both equally as cruel.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I don’t have time to be offended because now I’m just confused. How does he know?” 

“Surprise! Seokmin is my co-worker and I ran into him before my interview--”

“He’s your coworker and your future baby daddy. This is wild bubs I would not like to have a love story like yours… no offense.” 

“Whatever Kwanie, the point is the demon that is my ex boyfriend left a hickey on me last week and it still hasn’t gone away. So my boss saw, lectured me about it and somehow I ended up with the job.” You sighed, dropping your key back into your purse and pushed your already opened front door with the toe of your shoe. Vernon always had a habit of never closing the door completely and it had terrified you a few times, especially when word got around that there was a serial robber on the loose in the area the two of you used to live in. 

“Maybe you heard wrong, are you sure you got the job?” Seungkwan questioned and you could almost picture the raise of his eye brow along with his scold. “This doesn’t sound like you got the job to me, maybe you should call them just to make sure.” 

“I got it, I already signed all the paperwork.” You shook your head toeing off your shoes, noticing that Vernon’s vans were missing, which meant he still wasn’t home and you had maybe a few minutes of peace to yourself.

“This all sounds a little too suspicious now, but congratulations I’m proud of you...I guess.” 

“Thanks you’re the best, I’ll call you later I think I’m going to shower so I can contemplate all my life choices.” You said holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you placed your stuff down on top of the kitchen counter. “Also pizza two days in a row are you okay?”

“I’m fine, can’t say the same thing about you though.” He scoffed. “I’m going now I hope your shower makes you realize how stupid you have been lately.” He spoke before hanging up without letting you get a word in. Sighing you brought the phone down from your ear setting it down next to you. Your thoughts were jumbled and jumping around from one thing to another. You wished you weren’t so scared of confessing something to someone, especially if that someone was starting to become the reason why you kept waking up and getting out of bed every passing day. But you also knew you were hurting him more letting the days pass and keeping him in the dark. Needless to say your life had become a mess in the span of a few months and some days you found yourself wondering how you could return it. 

Jeonghan told me…

Your phone buzzed making you jump. You grabbed it quickly watching as Seokmin’s contact name stared at you brightly, along with his message making your heart race. You cursed at yourself for trusting that the snake would keep your secret sealed behind his thin lips. And maybe he had hired you out of spite but whatever it was you were already typing your overdue apology in hopes you could at least salvage the tiny piece of Seokmin’s heart that he had selfishly given to you. 

Congratulations baby, dinner on Friday to celebrate?

Your fingers stopped as you let out an embarrassing sigh of relief, silently apologizing to Jeonghan. Quickly you erased the few sentences you had managed to write out before typing out a reply. You weren’t sure what spirit had possessed you but, who's ever it was, gave you the confidence you needed to hit send, because you knew what you were about to do was going to possibly ruin whatever relationship you had with Seokmin or save it. But you were tired of walking on eggshells not only around him but also around Vernon. He needed to know and you needed to finally let go. 

I’ll cook, I want you to meet some people.

Vernon walked into the apartment with everything Seungkwan had sent him out to get before leaving for work that morning. The bags he had been carrying for blocks were cutting the circulation in his arms, his fingers burning sweetly from the plastic. How they hadn’t fallen dead on the sidewalk a couple of blocks back was a mystery to him, and in truth the pain didn’t bother him until now, while he toe-d off his shoes as fast as possible. He felt his arms start to give up so he dropped them, like he usually did and let out an enormous sigh of relief. The circulation coming back into his arms at a rapid rate. 

He stretched his hands out mumbling incoherently. Coming to a stop when he saw your distressed form leaning against the fake marble of the kitchen counter. Phone clutched tightly in your palm, breaking the circulation, much like the plastic bags had done to him. Before, he could stop myself, he ran over to you. Stumbling over his shoes. The groceries and the tingling feeling on his fingers, from the blood returning to them, long forgotten. All he could think about was you and what was going through your mind. 

Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck as he felt your body grow stiff against his. The pang hitting him like a wave of unwanted air giving his heart a run for its money. “Are you okay?” He whispered bringing you close, hoping his comfort would somehow bring you at ease. He was never really good at comfort. He had learned that early on in your relationship, but he always tried as best as he could. Affection had been his major weak point, but now that he had lost you it had become his strongest suit. 

“No Vernon, I’m not.” You swallowed the lump of anger that had been lodged into the back of your throat before gripping his arms with your hands and prying them off. Vernon was taken back, the void returning to his chest and you tried your best to shoulder past him. “You almost costed me my job today.” His arms fell at their sides, your words catching him off guard.

No matter how many arguments the two of you had had during your past relationship, he had never heard you use this before. The venom became permanent, interweaving itself with the strings of your vocal chords and for the first time he had realized that he had finally lost you. 

“Me?” He questioned, standing dumbfounded. A shaking finger coming to view pointing to his chest. “What do you mean I almost ruined your chances at you getting a job. I’ve only been home and at the grocery store?” 

Vernon ran a wary hand through his dark looks, the confusion written all over his face when you glanced at him and pushed past him a little too forcefully. He tried to recall anything he could’ve done for you to look at him in such an unpleasant way, but his mind came to a halt stopping in front of a white wall. All he could remember was trying his best to stay away from you and failing. 

Every night he sat in front of your bedroom door while you talked on the phone for hours. He missed the sound of your laugh. He knew it was never going to be directed towards him anymore, but he would never get tired of it. At least it was a distraction, as unpleasant as it may have been at times. His life was ruined and his search for cheap apartments big enough for himself was starting to become a bust. 

He wasn’t stupid. As much as you and Seungkwan had tried to mask your distaste for his return. He knew he wasn’t welcomed and he was made more aware of it now that he could feel your anger caging him in. 

“This Vernon!” You yelled as he came out of his daze. His eyes widened when he saw you unbutton the first few buttons of your blouse, the nude of your bra peeking out making him swallow thickly. “This is why I was almost not hired today.” You pointed at the faded hickeys he had left behind. A year ago he would’ve smirked while making a slick comment before attacking you. The giggle would fall out of your lips as he led you to the couch while he deepened the lovebites he had previously made. 

Now he stayed put, watching the angry tears fall from your eyes and instead of feeling sorry. He was now starting to shed his calm composure letting it get replaced by a year’s worth of anger. He let it consume him, because he had had enough. 

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that you and Seungkwan were faulting him for something that hadn’t been entirely his fault. 

“Did you get undressed in order to get the job? Were you really that desperate. Did he not like the fact that you were whoring yourself around when he saw another man’s mark on you?” He spat out, barely processing what he had said. His fist balling up at his sides while yours did the same thing. “I knew you were capable of things but this is a new low that I should’ve seen coming.” 

Vernon had never once said anything hurtful to you, he had given  silent treatments, left the house in fits of rage; but never anything hurtful. You were caught by surprise, your heart beating out of your chest angrily and tears flowed at a rapid rate. This was a new side of him and you supposed he was also seeing a new side of you. It made you wonder if you had truly known one another as well as you once prided yourself in. 

You forcefully threw down your stuff onto the coffee and took fast, long strides over to him. “Fuck you Vernon, I wish I had never met you.” You forced out jabbing your index finger into his chest as hard as you could, hoping you’d be able to hurt him even further like he had done to you. 

He stayed, not budging, looking down at you with an overwhelming amount of disgust. “You’ve ruined my life.” The whisper escaped your lungs before you could stop it, but the damage had already been done. The two of you had been stripped off of everything, left with nothing. Two once perfect colorful arrays of canvases now painted white. What more did you have to lose?

“And you’ve ruined mine.” He emphasized, making sure each word, each syllable was laced with the same amount of poison he was being consumed with. He wanted them to take a piece of your soul. The same way yours did with his.

It was the final blow he needed to deliver to finally be able to walk out of your life for good. To finally forget the way your presence had his heart doing somersaults. To finally realize he was and had never been yours to begin with. 

Vernon shook his head in disbelief blinking back the angry tears. He grabbed your wrist and slowly peeled your fingers away from his shirt he hadn’t noticed you were clinging onto. His body was shaking just like yours. Emotions he was now experiencing for the first time consuming him slowly. He pushed you away gently, a stark contrast from the hurtful words he had said earlier and quickly made his way to the front door. Hastily putting on his shoes, mumbling underneath his breath. He ignored the groceries again, and tripped over every miscellaneous item that was decorating the floor as he opened the front door. 

Déjà vu hit you like a tsunami, shaking arms wrapped around your torso, sobs falling out of your mouth as you watched him leave just like you had many times before. This time he didn’t love you enough to want to come back. 

When the world had once still revolved around you and Vernon, your fights would never last as long as this one had. It had lasted two days and six hours, but who’s counting? 

You were avoiding one another like the plague not wanting to admit fault. 

“Are you spaced out again?” Seokmin’s voice sounded through the speaker of your phone. You don’t know when the nightly facetime calls became routine, but they were the only thing you look forward to now. Especially after the nasty argument with Vernon two days and six hours ago. 

“Sorry Min.” You shake your head and turn to the side bringing your blanket up to your chin. “What were you saying again?” 

“I’m sorry we had to move dinner to tomorrow night, I forgot I had to babysit my nephew.” He pouted at the camera before turning his attention back to washing the dishes he had used for dinner. 

Since the two of you hadn’t been able to physically have dinner together to celebrate, you figured that having dinner with him through facetime was better than nothing. To keep him company of course and not because he filled the void you had been feeling for days on end. 

The entire time you were holed up in your room and witnessed how gentle he was when it came to his nephew. It made the butterflies in your stomach dance to the beat of their own drums. Once again you found yourself pushing the thought of Seokmin and children away. It was too soon. 

“Don’t apologize, I enjoyed watching you struggle with Minjae. Personally, baby, I’m a fan of when he calls you Min Min.” Seokmin laughed. His smile reached both ends of his face as he turned the faucet off. He dried his hands on a kitchen towel before grabbing his phone. “When I went to put him to bed he said you were pretty...and I mean he’s not wrong you’re gorgeous sweetheart.” He winked making the apples of your cheeks heat up with the light pink of baby flower petals.You watched as he shut off the lights and walked out of his kitchen, trudging silently through the hallway before reaching his room. 

“Since we’re alone now,” he started shutting the door to his room, “You want to tell me what’s been bothering you for the last few days?” He finished. The small complaint falling out of your lips as you hid underneath your blanket. It was amazing how in such a short amount of time Seokmin had been able to read you like a book from start to finish. 

It had taken Vernon a full year to be able to decipher the hidden meaning behind your words.

Vernon...you hated how much he was consuming your thoughts. Even when Seokmin was around. It felt like a curse with no cure. “Just got into a small argument with an old friend.” 

“Have you tried talking to them?” Seokmin walked around before placing his phone down and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. “You won’t be able to fix anything if the two of you haven’t talked.” 

“I can’t Seokmin, I said some hurtful things to him and honestly I shouldn’t have said them. I was angry over a situation that wasn’t entirely his fault.” You sighed, removing the blanket from your head and flopping down on your back. “If he didn’t hate me before he does now.” 

“I don’t know what happened with your friend, but I don’t think he hates you. Just try and talk to him and clear the air.” He nodded before laying down on his bed, grabbing the pillow and hugging it. “It doesn’t hurt to at least try.” 

You smiled and nodded. He looked breathtaking underneath the dim light of his room, “If you’re going to be right all the time, I think I might want a refund...again”

“Don’t say that baby...I’ll let you be right on odd days.” 

Saturday night came faster than you had anticipated and somehow you had managed to burn spaghetti. 

Your day had been awful and you were hoping that when nightfall came everything would’ve gotten better. Your wish had fallen on to deaf ears because you had burned spaghetti, Vernon was acting like a grade A asshole, and Seungkwan was ignoring you. 

When Seokmin had arrived. On time. He had found you scrambling in the kitchen trying to remake your famous (easy) pasta dish. Seungkwan and Vernon were arguing over the correct way to set a table...it was chaos.

 Neither of them were correct but you didn’t care enough to correct them. They weren’t talking to you either way. 

When you had managed to finally finish dinner. With the help of Seokmin. He had insisted after he saw how stressed out you looked, the four of you sat in complete silence. Seokmin at your side, holding your hand underneath the table, Vernon eyeing him down like he was his prey and Seungkwan mindlessly scrolled through his phone. The clinking of utensils and your heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard. 

You wanted to die. 

“Um...so I know Seungkwan, but I don’t know you. I’m Seokmin.” He nodded in Vernon’s direction before taking a bite of his pasta. You watched as Seungkwan locked his phone and put it down. His eyes traveled between the two male figures before they settled on yours and you watched as he slightly shook his head.

“I know who you are, you’re the one that she stays up talking to.” He signaled in your direction before setting down his fork and leaning into his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. “I’m Hansol but you can call me Vernon.” 

“Cool...so Vernon, how do you know each other?” Seokmin let go of your hand. The warmth and ease you had felt disappearing as you saw the two of them eye each other. As far as you could tell Vernon wanted to eat Seokmin alive and Seokmin was simply driven by his curiosity. “Did you just move in?” 

Vernon laughed bitterly before pushing his half eaten plate away from him. “You haven’t told him?” He questioned. The amused evil glint adorning his soft eyes. A look you had never once seen him give anyone and now that it was directed towards you. You were terrified. 

“Hansol don’t!” Seungkwan warned. You felt Seokmin’s body stiffen next to you as he looked over at you, an eyebrow raised. “So we’re just going to sit here and pretend we’re one big happy family when we’re all miserable because of her.” Vernon spat out digging his burning gaze into yours. You jumped and looked over at Seokmin who had retreated into himself. His eyes were burning holes into the pasta in front of him. 

“Min I-I can ex-” 

“What does he mean, what is he talking about?” Seokmin interrupted and pushed his plate away from him. Your appetite was gone and you could only assume everyone else was feeling the same way. 

“Tell him. Why don’t you tell him how you were moaning my name a few days ago just like you had done for the past five years.” 

You panicked, your body shaking in intervals of five and you tried to look for anything to say but your lies had finally caught up to you. The only thing you could do was drown and keep drowning, just like you had been doing before Seokmin came into your life and pulled you out of the water. Now you were pushed into it again and this time you were positive no one was going to risk themselves to save you.“Seokmin w-wait please.” You threw your napkin on the table and stood up, the corners landing into the pasta sauce as you turned to face Seokmin. You extended your arm to grab his hand, only for him to pull it back, ”You were just toying with me.” The legs of the chair scraping against the hardwood floor made you jump. Your body going into survival mode. “I saw the marks on you but I just assumed I had accidentally gotten carried away.” 

“You fucked him too, wo-” 

“Vernon, shut up for once please.” You yelled. Your world came crashing down again just like it had on that winter night; in front of the infamous coffeeshop. Both times had been Vernon’s fault. 

“I-I can’t be here.” Seokmin whispered, running a bony hand through his perfectly styled hair, causing it to messily stick out in random places. He sighed before pushing his char in forcefully as he gathered the few things he had brought with. He stepped on the soles of his shoes, not caring about how uncomfortable he felt. The only thing that was running through his mind was how he needed to get out and far away from you as possible. 

“Why can’t you guys let me handle things at my own pace. I was gonna tell him this is why I invited him but I didn’t want him to find out like this.” You shouted, making Seungkwan and Vernon to look at you as if you were a deer and they were the headlights. You shook your head and stood up running past them and the kitchen towards the door that Seokmin had left wide open. Your vision had gone blurry and you opted out at putting on your shoes. It would be a waste of time and you needed to get to him before he left. You were tired of not fighting for what you wanted and you wanted Seokmin enough that it hurt. 

“M-Min please wait! Let me explain.” Seokmin stopped as he was halfway down the first flight of stairs. 

“I understood. I told you I would wait for you because I knew something had happened to you. Yet I never pushed you to tell me. I started to fall for you, only to find out that you didn’t care that you never cared. T-That there was someone else.”

“I-It’s not like that.” You ran down the flights of stairs, ignoring the small pebbles digging into the skin of your feet. “H-Hansol was my soulmate, bu-”

“Was?”

“Yes Seokmin he was my soulmate, please just give me a chance to explain everything.” You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your heart that was going a mile a minute. “We aren’t together and haven’t been together for a year...i-it’s just complicated.” You pleaded. 

“But you slept with him right after our date I’m guessing?” 

“I-I...a...Seokmin please just let me explain. I didn’t sleep with him. When you left he was here and we talked and then one thing led to another but I stopped him because of you. Because I had the most amazing ti-”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better because it doesn’t.” He rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back, stuffing both of them into the pockets of his coat. Goosebumps rose against your skin. You blamed the cool wind of the beginning autumn months but you were very well aware that it was because of the coldness behind Seokmin’s comforting eyes. “Do you still love him?” 

“M-Min I-I...um. I-” 

“God, I really don’t want to look at you right now, I w-wished I h-had never met you.” He whispered. 

Your knees gave up at the realization of his confession and you fell down onto the concrete step of the stairs. You were numbly looking at his worn out shoes as he stood there wordlessly, broken sounds leaving his perfect lips. A breeze blew and you shivered, “I-I’m sorry.” You whispered before he turned around and started down the rest of the flights of stairs leaving you behind. 

When Vernon left, you were heartbroken. 

When Seokmin left, you wanted to die. 

It’s unclear how you made it back into your apartment on the couch under a plethora of blankets, shivering, teeth clattering against one another. You weren’t sure how long you had been out in the cold waiting, hoping for Seokmin to come back and take you into his arms. To hold your shivering body close to his warm one, while whispering the three words you longed to hear most. 

I forgive you.  

That hadn’t been the case though. You sat out there waiting on the concrete steps as the bitter cold overtook your body, until you couldn’t feel your bones anymore. In the midst of your unwavering head, you had lost track of time. And now you are sitting on your couch, listening to soft shuffles of rushed feets and hushed arguments. Tears frozen onto the apples of your cheeks, staring at the blank wall that sat behind the television set. 

“Hey,” Seungkwan’s voice sounded distant as he tried grabbing your attention, shaking you gently. 

The inside of your head was a mess, the files of all your memories going up in flames. You wanted out of your head, to look at Seungkwan’s face morphed with concern. You wanted to cry into his arms just like you had done many times before but you were done. You had let other people deal with your problems for you instead of facing them head on. So, you ignored him and his soft voice to stare at the blank wall. At least the wall wouldn’t be used by you. 

“I ran you a bath, come on.” He placed his palm on your back rubbing it up and down in a soothing manner. You cringed, shrugging his touch away and wrapped the blankets around yourself tighter, retrieving into yourself. “You’re going to freeze to dea-”

“I deserve it.” You mumbled. A tear trickled down your cheek and you looked down at your shivering hands. He was right, the color from your skin had been drained due to the bone chilling cold from the start of the winter months. But you liked wallowing in the numbness, it served as a reminder of how much you truly fucked up. 

“You don’t, now come on before you force me to carry you, you know how weak my back has been lately and you would be doing me a great disservice if I have to carry you all the way to the bathroom.” He said pointedly and tugged on your hands as he stood up taking you along with him. The blankets fell from your shoulders, taking residency on the couch. Seungkwan walked the two of you away from the couch, one of his hands on your back the other holding your arm tightly and tentatively. Almost as if he was afraid that you’ll escape and habituate yourself on the couch again. Your point of focus from the wall was no more, now you were staring around the silent apartment. Your eyes landed on the dinner table, where everything had been left untouched, like nothing had happened. And you wondered if ten minutes had gone by instead of an hour, just like you had presumed. 

The sound of rushing water brought you back to your senses as you and Seungkwan entered the bathroom. The lights were dimmed and he had set up the stress relieving candles the two of you had bought on a whim one Sunday afternoon. It was moments like these when you realized you didn’t deserve to have a friend like Seungkwan. A friend would drop everything and be at your side in seconds at the mumble of the first syllable of his name. Once again you were reminded how much better he deserved. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered watching him through the fogged out mirror. His long fingers toying with the tiny zipper of your dress, unzipping it slowly, careful not to place his cold palms against your already freezing skin. In a different scenario you would’ve made a sexual innuendo about him seeing you naked, even though he had many times. The two of you lived together and the amount of times either of you had accidentally sleepily walked in on each other either changing or showering was almost laughable. At some point it had become so natural that neither of you strayed away from uninterested pairs of eyes. 

“For what?” He raised a brow at you through the mirror. Your dress had now fallen onto the floor leaving you in your matching bra and underwear set. Your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you turned around to look at him. 

“E-Everything, I’m the w-worst person ever and here you are t-treating me like a delicate flower. I-I don’t deserve you or Vernon or S-Seokmin.” You sniffed blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran out of tears considering how much you cried daily. At least three times a week. 

Seungkwan let out a laugh and hugged you tightly, his hands brushing the hair away from your face, “You aren’t the worst person ever, right now you might not be your own favorite person or the favorite person of a certain individual.” He pulled back and flicked your forehead gently making you pout, the tears still free falling down your cheeks, his thumbs brushing them away. “I can name a few others that are way worse than you, now get in the bath before I seriously drown you.” Seungkwan treated placing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Sometimes I wish I could take away yours and Vernon’s pain.” 

“Then you’d be weighted down even more by pain that doesn’t belong to you.”

“If it gets the two of you smiling again, I’d take the risk any day.”  

Seungkwan always keeps true to his word.

While he was aggressively washing your hair, he almost did try to drown you and you had never been more scared for your life. 

“This is the last time I let you take care of me.” You pouted bringing your knees up to your naked chest, sending him an almost threatening glare. The tears had stopped along with your shivering, but now you could finally feel the emptiness inside of you. 

 “That’s gonna be hard, I like taking care of you. It’s like my hobby.” He flashed you a smile before turning his attention back to his almost empty wine glass. You sighed, placing your cheek against your knees watching as he poured himself another generous amount of the overly expensive wine you had bought solely for that night. 

“That’s the problem, you shouldn’t like to take care of me, you should’ve kicked me out after my third month here.” You grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a sip from it, cringing at the taste as it traveled down your throat burning slightly. For it to be so expensive you were expecting it to be crafted using grapes sent down from the heavens, but the wine from your corner store was a lot better. Maybe this is where you had gone from in the first place. You had tried to be something you weren’t for Seokmin. Tried to put up a front until you were ready to show him the real you. A foolproof plan that ended up backfiring in the end. You should’ve known. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Seungkwan took the bottle from your hand and placed it on the floor. He turned to look at you tugging his knees underneath him and leaned an elbow against the edge of the bathtub. 

“Yeah, it was New Year’s and you were spending it with Hansol’s family because you and your family weren’t on best terms.” You looked away from his glossy eyes and down at the water surrounding you. You dipped a pruned finger into the water creating a small ripple in the once warm, now lukewarm water. 

“Do you remember what you said to me that night before the clock struck twelve.” 

You swished your finger around in the water, watching the ripples grow bigger and bigger, your face breaking into a small smile. The first one you had let decorate your face since everything happened. “I said that whenever I felt down I would always think of you because every time I saw you around campus you always had a smile plastered on your face and your head held high.” You said placing your palm against the water surface and then pushing against it watching as the water swallowed your head. 

“Do you know how much your words meant to me?” He put down his glass on the edge of the bathtub, “I was going through the worst period of time in my life, my relationship with my family was strained, I was failing my classes and the person I was in love with was getting married but your words helped me get through that time in my life. And that’s why I choose to be there for you always...because you were there for me.” 

“Seungkwan I-.” He held his hand up, stopping you from speaking a distant smile plastered on his face as he grabbed the towel next to him and dipped his hand into the bathtub unclogging the drain, creating a tiny whirlpool. 

“I know you’re going to tell me that you were drunk and that your words didn’t deserve to have such an impact on me, and that you still don’t deserve my help, but I don’t want to hear it.” He tapped your shoulder signaling for you to stand, in which you obeyed. You watched silently as he wrapped your towel around you tightly, tiny water droplets chasing down your bare arms and legs. “No matter what happens to you, you will always be able to count on me no matter how annoying I might find you sometimes. I will always be there for you, is that clear?” He finished sternly before wrapping his arms around you, hugging you not carrying that you were getting his only designer shirt wet. 

“Crystal.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You beamed up at Seungkwan as he tugged you into bed after helping you dry your hair for an hour. If it were up to you, you would’ve gone to sleep right after you changed into your pajamas, but Seungkwan insisted with a nagging finger on drying your hair because “You should never go to sleep with your hair wet unless you want to wake up sick.” Or so he claimed. 

“Am I going to have to write a dissertation in order to answer it?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, tugging a leg underneath him, resting his elbow against his thigh, his chin the palm of his hand. 

“Nope but you might get mad at me for asking it.” You grinned, positioning your body to the side in a fetal position. Seungkwan rolled his eyes, mumbling how all his hard work in tugging you in had gone to waste and giving you the go head with a small nod of his head. 

“Where’s Vernon?” 

Seungkwan rolled his eyes before leaning over to turn your light off. “I don’t know. After he brought you inside he ran out saying he had somewhere to be.” He turned the switch leaving the two of you in darkness and silence. “Why do you ask?” 

“I want to beat him up for being a jerk.”

“I’ll film it.” 

The brightness of the morning sun made you stir in your sleep, making you wish you had listened to Seungkwan when he had suggested that you buy black out curtains, instead of the sheer ones you bought. With a heavy sigh you felt around your bed looking for your phone knowing very well you hadn’t plugged it in to charge. You wanted the battery to drain out that way you wouldn’t anxiously be waiting for a phone call or text that was never going to come. 

Frustrated due to the realization you continued your search, digging your palm into your sheets letting them melt between your fingers, wishing the other side of your bed wasn’t cold and empty. But the one person you wanted to be next to you didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. 

“Why are you pulling on my hair?” 

Your hand came back to you faster than a lightning bolt and you sat up, eyes wide as saucers as you looked down at the last person you were expecting. “Why are you here?” You brought the sheets up to your shirts, covering your arms that were adorned with the thin strap of the tank top you had used to sleep. 

Vernon buried his face in your sheets, giving himself a moment to recover from being woken up in such an unpleasant way. He had arrived home two hours ago, took his shoes off in a hurry and rushed to your room. He was met with your sleeping form. Limbs splayed out in all directions, your sheets sliding off your body taking up residency on your bedroom floor.

He smiled feeling the nostalgia take over his body like a poisonous drink. He longed to wake up next to you, with the sheets missing and your arm draped his face, while silent snores fell out of your mouth as you stayed sleeping without a care in the world. He looked forward to those mornings. Especially when he was losing you because it was the only time that felt like nothing was happening. The only time he wouldn’t have to avoid looking at you for fear of breaking down whenever he saw the hurt in your eyes. And as you had slept after the shit show that had happened earlier that night, albeit all his fault. He found himself longing for those few seconds of silence as he watched you sleep. 

So, he moved through your room with caution, dodging the specs of light coming in through your window. He picked up your from the floor and carefully placed them on top of you again before sitting down on the floor. His elbow on your bed, chin resting on the palm of your hand and he watched you sleep. The tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, this would be the last time he would be seeing you. At least for a while. He wanted to take everything in, engrave the image of your sleeping face in his mind so he wouldn’t forget about it for a while. 

Unaware he had fallen asleep, and now here he was. His heart thumping out of his chest feeling your eyes dig themselves into the side of his head. He could only be honest, his intentions weren’t malicious to begin with, and lying to you always tore him apart. “I came to say goodbye.” He whispered, raising his head. He brought his hands up to his eyes and diligently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His vision grew spotty from how hard he had rubbed them. 

“Oh...where are you going?” You sat up, resting your back against the headboard. It surprised you how soft your voice sounded as it left your mouth and you could tell it had surprised him too. You like him were expecting the coldness, but instead both of your ears were met with warmth. 

“I’m moving back into my parents house, until I find my own place. I was selfish in coming here in the first place. I thought that now because I was alone again we could be together again.” He nodded, focusing on your closet door avoiding your face as the words rushed out of his mouth. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore...at least for a while.” He tore his gaze away from the door and turned to his you. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

A veil of silence swallowed your waking bodies, as the rising sun finished its journey and stayed put. The golden hues of the rays illuminated Vernon’s side profile, bringing out the tiny freckles underneath his eyes. They were bloodshot, you could tell he hadn’t slept despite him just waking up, making you feel a little guilty. If you hadn’t prolonged this situation as much as you did then maybe things would’ve been different last night and this morning. Maybe you’d be waking up to Seokmin’s soft touches instead of Vernon’s broken and guilt ridden stare. 

“I wanted you here Vernon.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your legs, resting your chin on top of your knees. “We’re equally at fault, though you had been acting like an asshole and I’m still a little upset with you. It’s not all your fault.” You nodded, skimming your hand down your covered legs and placed it on top of his. 

Vernon sighed removing his hand from underneath yours, your touch ignited something inside of him. Something he needed to keep at bay in order to let you go once and for all. “I talked to him last night.” He leaned back on his arms, his fingers digging into the fuzziness of your white carpet. He looked at you through his bangs, smiling at the confusion written all over your sleepy face. “Dokyeom, he’s funny.” 

The sound of his name sounded foreign coming out of Vernon’s mouth. You almost convinced yourself you had still been dreaming if it wasn’t for the clattering pans in the kitchen, obviously Seungkwan’s doing. “You’re lying to me again.” 

“I only lied to you once and I regret it every waking moment I see you, but this time I’m not.” He said crossing his jean clad legs underneath him, “I followed him after I brought you back inside, he punched me.” He laughed and pointed to the side of his jaw that had started to form a light bruise, making your brows furrow in concern. “It’s not as bad as it looks, my jaw is still intact, plus I deserved it.” 

“You did. If he hadn’t done I would’ve.”

“Yeah, and it would’ve hurt more coming from you.” He rolled his eyes brushing off the subject with a swipe of his hand against the air, “I apologized to him and he taught me how to make a vase...did you know he’s part owner of a pottery studio?” 

You laughed at the splendor in Vernon’s voice. The awkward air that had been crushing both pairs of lungs subsided, “I did he promised he’d take me one day but I guess it won’t happen now.” You shrugged, a side smile forming against your lips. “I’m a little jealous you got to live out my fantasy.” 

“Yeah his hands are big and muscular and soft, I felt safe in his arms as he taught me how to form the shape.” Vernon joked. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your pillow before hitting him with it, making him groan. “That hurt.” 

“Good, I was hoping it did.” 

“You’re just jealous that he and I share a birthday.” 

“No you don’t.” You pouted and laid down again crossing your arms in front of you like a child. The guilt consumed you once again but this time because you had been so focused with your problems that you hadn’t taken the chance to actually get to know Seokmin. You hadn’t actually tried to get to know him better and you couldn’t blame him for what he had told you last night. If you were in his shoes, you would also regret ever meeting you. 

“What else did he say?” You voiced, untangling your arms and turning your body to face Vernon’s sitting form. He smiled before standing up and brushing the invisible lint balls from his jeans. He extended his hand for your to take, earning a curious stare from you. 

“He wants to see you but first you have to eat breakfast.” 

After a very uneventful breakfast that consisted of Seungkwan’s nagging (out of love) and leftovers. The three of you helped Vernon carry his stuff out to his car. It was a bittersweet feeling, to see the same scenario play out the same way it did almost over a year ago. This time neither of you were hurting and longing for one another. 

“Get in.” Vernon shouted as he closed the trunk of his car, dusting his hands in front of him. He pointed to the passenger seat door, a wide smile on his face as he rounded the corner and opened the door. “I have to take you somewhere.” 

“W-What, but I-I haven’t showered and I’m still in my pajamas.” You looked between Vernon who was holding open the door and Seungkwan who had started looking around, whistling and you realized that whatever Vernon was planning, Seungkwan had been in on it too. 

“You look fine, now get in before I get punched again.”

“Kwanie help me please.” You pleaded grabbing onto the sleeves of his coat. Not knowing what was happening or what was going to happen only added to the stress of last night. 

“I think I left the stove on, I’m going to go save our apartment from burning down.” He winked peeling your fingers from the sleeves of his coat and shoved you towards the car. “Have fun, don’t stay out too late, you still have to clean your room.” He shouted as he turned around and started jogging towards the entrance of the building. 

“I have no choice do I?” You sighed looking at Vernon’s scheming face. He shook his head and signaled you to hurry up with the sudden movement of his hand. “Fine, if I end up dead though I’m coming back to haunt you and Seokmin’s asses.” You mumbled in annoyance, the skin of your legs gaining bumps as a cold breeze blew. 

Vernon waited, holding the door to his car open for you as you quickly got into the passenger seat of his car. While you got in quickly desperately seeking some kind of warmth. “Are you ready?” He closed the door gently once he was sure you were fully inside and buckled up, leaning his elbows against the open window. 

“To be kidnapped, nope. But I have no choice.” 

Vernon stopped his car in front of an unnamed warehouse, unlocked the doors and basically shooed you out of it, “The side door is unlocked.” He said, pointing to an inconspicuous grey door before speeding off and leaving you alone, your heart against your throat. 

You stood there in the middle of the parking lot, the bitter cold wrapping around you like a frozen blanket. And for once in your life you wished you had new friends, preferably ones that wouldn’t leave you in the middle of nowhere, in your pajamas and without a phone. You realized you had left it midway through your silent journey in Vernon’s old car. You had reached over for the volume knob turning it all the way down. The song that belonged to one of the mixtapes he had once made disappeared from his failing speakers.  He had laughed when you told him, “You won’t need it anyway.” He reassured, pressing his foot on the gas as the light turned to an obnoxious yellow. 

Now you were left stranded, cold and fearing for your life, refusing to move from your spot, eyeing the grey door in suspicion and fear. “Come in before you die.” You jumped as the grey door slammed open, revealing a boy with reddish hair and glasses perched on top of his nose, wearing grey paint splattered overalls. You contemplated ignoring him at first but then another cold breeze blew, followed by a few snowflakes and you knew you had no choice, but to follow the boys commands. 

“Who are you?” You questioned as you jogged towards him and then past him, your body engulfed with the warmth of the warehouse, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Minghao, I’m one of the owners of this place.” He said after closing the door behind him making you jump slightly at the sound of metal hitting metal. “You know we’re in the middle of winter, not summer.” He said pointedly, eyeing you down. And you felt stupid although your attire hadn’t been your doing. If it had been entirely up to you, you wouldn’t be wearing sleep shorts, a tank top, a thin sweater and soping house slippers. 

“Yeah, it’s a long story.” 

“And I’m sure I’ll hear it one day but your lover boy is waiting behind the curtains.” Minghao smiled and wrapped a black winter coat around your shoulders, rubbing your arms gently before pulling away. “He hasn’t slept, so please tell him too once you finish confessing your love to one another or whatever people do after a fight.” He shoved you lightly towards the creme curtains that separated what seemed like an art room from whatever room was on the other side. 

“Also if you need to do like gross couple stuff, can you do it in his room and not the living room.” He stated before grabbing a paint brush and sitting in front of a half painted canvas. Nothing had taken shape yet and you wondered if that was his intention or if he was stuck and just decided to paint whatever came to his mind. Whatever the reason was, you’d have to wait because the creme colored curtain was whispering your name at a decibel only you could hear begging you to reveal what was on the other side. So, you did, pulling it back harder than you had intended, your breath catching itself in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes traveled around what seemed to be a living room. The navy blue couch had been pushed to the far end of the room, the back resting against the brick wall. A whole wall filled with all the books you could imagine and you found yourself laughably fighting the urge to run your finger tips against all their spines. There was a kitchen, though it looked more like it had never been used, the overflowing sink filled with dishes told you otherwise. And finally sitting in the middle, on a paint splattered dining room table was Seokmin, his bright and pleading eyes taking your attention away from the bags that laid underneath them. A two tier crooked cake sitting in front of him, with the words “I’m sorry,” written in purple icing. 

“Seokmin I-” You started but the words escaped your mouth as your feet mindlessly made your way towards him. For a split second you stood in front of him as he looked up at you, his hands shaking on his lap, and you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly as you buried your face into his neck taking in his scent. Fearing that this might be the last time you would be smelling it, as it almost was. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, but I got scared. I didn’t want you to think of me as different, as impure, used, b-broken. I-I don’t know.” Your words rushed out almost creating an incoherent sentence against his soft skin. You felt him suck in a breath before wrapping his arms around you tightly, his palms running down your back soothingly. 

“I’m sorry too I wasn’t completely honest with you either. I know how you felt, it wasn’t easy for me when I first lost the person I loved and I wasn’t expecting to find you so soon that day either at the field.” He whispered, kissing your temple gently before pulling back and brushing the loose strands of hair away from your face. “I told you that I’d wait for you but I think I was telling myself that too.” 

“Wait you mean...what...when?” You searched his face for any indication of incenserity but all you found was warmth, longing and love. 

“Around spring of last year, we were by the cherry blossoms when it happened.” He nodded and you felt the sting of colorful swirls erupt inside of you. “They left me that day and I haven’t seen them since.” He finished cradling your face in his hands, looking into your eyes with so much intensity you were sure you would melt. 

“That’s when it happened to Vernon and I.” You placed a palm against your forehead, your blowing out of their sockets because for the first time since that day everything had started to fall into place. 

“He told me last night, we also share a birthday which is crazy.” He said matter of factly, causing a small laugh to escape your lips, “do you think we can maybe start over?” He pouted, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from the corner of your eyes way.

“I’d love nothing more Seokmin.” You whispered and closed the tiny gap between the two of you finally connecting your lips with his, the butterflies erupting in the pits of your stomach. Behind your closed eyelids you could see the colorful burst of emotions harbored deep inside you, turning different shades of blue, purple and pink as the kiss deepened. It was something you had never witnessed before and to say it was overwhelming would be an understatement. You felt on cloud nine and you didn’t want it to stop, but the air was running out of your lungs the quicker the kiss got and you could tell Seokmin was feeling the same way as his chest started heaving underneath your palms, so you pulled back, your pants matching up with his. 

For the first time since you met him, your world around you seemed to intensify. Everything was brighter, glowing with a fierceness you had never once experienced. The two of you stayed silent staring into each other’s eyes, your heart hammering against your chest as you noticed the subtle specs of gold that were mixed deep within his dark eyes. You didn’t want to stop looking at them, not when you felt his hand cup your chin to pull you back in for another kiss. 

“Do you feel it too?” You whispered, your lips hovering over his threatening to close the gap again. 

“Feel what?” He teased, rubbing his nose against yours, heating up the blood in your body. And you prayed he wouldn’t see the slight sheen of sweat that had started to form against your hairline. 

“Like you’re home?” 

“Yes” The simple three letter word, sent you into a frenzy and you once again kissed him. This time with more fever than the last, because in Seokmin’s arms you finally felt like you could fall.

[iam93percentstardust]

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

~

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

~

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

~

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

~

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

~

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. IV

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Your Highness," One helper tipped his head at you before, discreetly, glancing at Harry who was in awe by the surroundings.

"I'm taking Noir on a walk, can you please get her ready for me, Albert?” You asked with a smile.

"Of course, your Highness. I'll get her ready this instant." "And Albert,” you tilted your head, “Don't tell Granny about this unless she asks." You said, watching as he glanced at yours and Harry's intertwined fingers for a split second.

"Of course, your Highness." By nodding at him, he was off to get the white horse ready.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Harry asked, looking down at you.

You looked up at him and a smile instantly was drawn on your face, "I'm not."

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. "Your grandmother hates me, doesn't she? The Queen hates me?"

You sighed, stepping closer and facing him, letting his hand fall from yours as you place your hands on his chest. "She doesn't know you to hate you. She just had," you paused, mind rushing to the plans your grandmother had for you that were the reason behind the tension in the relationship between the both of you, growing uneasy to tell Harry just yet about the Prince she was persistent for you to marry. It was too early to let it slip like that. "She had some plans and dreams for me. But she'll come along when it's the right time." 

"You know I don't want to be the reason to start issues with your family, right? I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that I'm not the person your family wanted you to be associated with."

He was gentle. The emerald green colour that you loved so much was beautifully – almost – painted in his eyes that pooled with care and genuineness.

But despite that, the smile on your lips faltered a little. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Instantly, Harry replied. "No," he shook his head, "Told you I'm not scared, didn't I?"

You hummed, waiting impatiently as he leaned down, pressing lips on to yours in a soft kiss that had your insides fluttering.

"Your Hi-Oh," you pulled away, looking at Albert who blushed, diverting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, your highness."

Yours and Harry's cheeks were tinted red as you stepped beside him instead, a small bashful smile on your faces. "It's okay, Albert."

"Noir is ready, your highness."

You grinned excitedly, holding Harry's hand and dragging him behind you inside the stable, giving a "Thank you!" over your shoulder. "Noir is the gentlest horse ever, you'll love her!"

"I haven't ridden a horse since I was so young." Harry chuckled, letting you drag him behind.

"Don't worry, she's friendly when I'm around."

You led him towards a place where you kept the costumes and other safety equipment. "Here," you handed him a brown helmet. "I'm sure there are boots your size."

After helping Harry with the equipment and wearing your own, the both of you walked out of the other end of the stable where you found one of grooms standing beside Noir.

"Good morning, Ken."

"Good morning, your Highness." He smiled, tipping his head.

"This is Harry." You smiled, watching as they greeted each other with a polite nod and a “hello.” Turning to look at Harry, he almost melted at the smile of excitement adorned on your face, "Do you need help getting on?"

Despite looking at the white horse you had talked to him for hours on end, taking it not only its beauty, but size, Harry shook his head.

Watching you gracefully get on the beautiful white horse's back, his hands seemed to grow clammy as you held the reins.

Almost as if he remembered his mother, Anne, taking him and his sister, Gemma, horse riding when they were younger, Harry was thankful that he remembered how to simply get on a horse, though not as graceful as the Princess before him.

He got on Noir's back who fidgeted in her place, only calming when you stroked her hair in assurance, "Easy now."

Harry was seated behind you, his chest to your back which was enough to have you feeling flustered and blushing but nevertheless, you slowly began riding your horse down the greenery. "And this, is Noir."

Harry smiled to himself, his hand stroking the white horse softly. "She's beautiful. Has she been yours for long?"

"Ever since I was 4. She was only a filly of one year when Grandpapa got her for me. This babe is 17 years old." You proudly stated, patting her head.

Amused, Harry let out a small whistle. "She's old."

Gasping feigned shock, you moved one hand to gently swat Harry’s knee, “Where are your manners?” Harry laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“My apologies, dearest Noir.” He said dramatically, making sure his accent sounded thicker.

“Grandpapa has one that’s 23 years old." You giggled, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

"So, the entire family is into horses? I mean, I have seen it in the news of some of your family horse-riding but are they really into it?" Harry asked.

You nodded, "Pretty much. Will, Har, and I were trained when we were only 3. Although we don't ride horses now except for friendly polo matches but Noir here, is someone I frequently take a walk with. Has a special place in my heart." You smiled before giving him a shake of your head, "Enough about me, what's something you used to do back home in Cheshire? It's quiet there, isn't it?"

"It is. Quite peaceful. I actually used to work in a bakery." He sounded so happy about it, almost as if he was reminiscing. Deciding against telling him that you've been a fan for long and knew about the fact, you let him continue. "Barbara, who still works there, would always just pinch my bum. She's the sweetest old, child-at-heart, woman you can ever meet."

You laughed, "You know quite the cheeky people, huh? Even in your shows, your fans can be quite cheeky."

Harry laughed, "Facts,” he nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “Think I can be, too.”

“Oh, I know alright.”

---

"I think-I think this one goes here," you attempted to put the piece of puzzle in your hand in one of the empty spaces as you sat cross legged on Harry's floor, the puzzle on the table in front of you, with Harry sitting right opposite, attempting to complete the picture with you. "Or not."

"I think we should've seen the picture, love." He chuckled, looking at the image you had created that was yet to be comprehendible.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shrugged, "There! We're done with the sky."

"I think it's a tree house, I'm not sure." Harry tilted his head, looking at what you both had finished so far. "Me, too," you nodded, "Like, that's the lad-" You were interrupted by Harry's doorbell, making you look up and towards it.

"I ordered Chinese while you were in the loo, hope that's okay." Harry smiled, standing up.

You tried to hide your shock – and excitement – by nodding, watching as he took his wallet and walked towards the door.

The sound of Harry's socks-clad feet against the floor made you straighten up and clear your throat, attempting to act natural, smiling slightly and looking at him.

"There we go," Harry smiled, putting the bag beside the puzzle you had been trying to complete for the past 40 minutes. He took out two boxes, unaware of your confused but curious face, your eyes traveling between the square boxes. "Chopsticks or fork?"

You didn't even know what was inside but since you knew how to use chopsticks, you answered the former which Harry handed you. He took his box closer to him, opening it, as if he was a natural and so used to it. You, on the other hand, remained wary and in place, eyes only set on the box that was supposedly yours.

As he was about to put the noodles in his mouth, Harry's eyes landed on you, closing his mouth and setting his chopsticks in the box when he noticed your confused face and your untouched box. "Do you not like Chinese, love?"

You hummed, your head snapping towards him. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, seemingly absorbing what his mind was telling him, "I asked, do you not like Chinese?"

You looked bashful; cheeks turning to a tint pink as you put a locket of hair behind your ear. "Well..."

"Y/N?" Harry's tone changed, leaning his head closer, "Have you-Have you never had Chinese?"

At this, it seemed like your entire face was pink. You let out a small groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing."

Harry chuckled in surprise before crawling towards you, "No, no," he took a hold of your wrists, prying them from your face. "Come on, look at me, please."

You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him. "Fine. I've never had-never had whatever that is. They don't allow things like that. Just McDonald’s if it’s a good day."

"So you've never had Chinese takeaway?"

"I just said that, stop making me repeat it." You groaned, looking down.

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your and bringing you closer to his chest, hugging you. "Awwwe, Y/N,"

"You're so annoying." You laughed, swatting his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I think it's cute." He assured you, leaning back a little to have you look at him. "It's okay, means you get to try something for the first time with me. So what do you say? Want to give Chinese takeaway a chance?"

You nodded eagerly, looking back at the box and bringing it closer to you, "What's inside?" You looked at him right before opening it.

"Noo-"

"Hush, let me get surprised!" You grinned, opening the box, "Ooo, noodles." Harry chuckled, leaning on his palms and staring at you in amusement. "Is that- Oh, is that chicken?"

"You had sweet and sour chicken on our third date so I figured you'd like it." Harry answered casually, oblivious to the butterflies in your stomach at the fact that he remembered that tiny detail.

"Alright," you smiled, taking a hold of your chopsticks. "Let's do this." You took a hold of some noodles, glancing at Harry before you eat. "I'm so nervous."

Harry grinned, sitting straight and rubbing his hand on your back. "Come on, love. Give it a try." You nodded, putting the noodles in your mouth and slowly chewing so you could get every taste just right. "Well?"

Your eyebrows were raised as you chewed before swallowing, "Oh my God," You quickly dug in for another, making sure to try the chicken.

Harry grinned, wrapping both arms around your waist, "Like it?"

"Love it! What restaurant is that?”

---

You adjusted your brother's, Har's, polo collar as you sat in the car alongside him. "Guess what I had today."

"Hm?"

"Guess what I had today." You repeated impatiently, tugging on your simple and plain navy-blue blouse.

"What?"

"Chinese takeaway." You grinned, nodding as he laughed.

"And how was it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It tasted heavenly! Have you tried it?"

He nodded, "The good ol' rebellion days."

You frowned, "Hey! Why didn't you bring me some?"

He laughed, raising his hands up defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. Didn’t want them having my neck for staining sweet little Princess Y/N by getting her fast-food that doesn’t go with her diet."

"That you are actually." You smiled, nodding.

"Wait," Your brother furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back the window, "How did you try it?"

"Uh," Your mouth hung open and your hand reached to scratch your temple. "You know, I was out and about this morning."

He hummed slowly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So instead of being saucy and cheeky with your boyfriend, you try Chinese takeaway?"

"One, he's not-not really my boyfriend and two, you want me to get saucy and cheeky with someone?"

"God, no, Y/N," He cringed, his face twisting in disgust. "Let's just, change topics."

You snickered, looking out the window to see your father's home, Clarence House. "We're here." You announce quietly.

Walking inside, you meet up with your oldest brother who instantly greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Pa?" You ask.

"He-"

"There you are!" William was interrupted by your father's excited and cheerful voice, making the three of you look towards him and Camilla walking towards you.

You grin, letting your father embrace you. "You look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Pa." You rub his back for a second before pulling away, watching as he moved to greet Will. Camilla instantly opened her arms at you, making you smile as you let her pull you into a hug, feeling her kiss your cheek.

"Shall we get to dinner? Made your favourite, darling," Your father said, holding out his arm for you to link, "Shepherd's pie."

"This is why I love you." You joked, leaning your head on his shoulder for a second as you giggled.

"Only cares about food." William joked as you all walked towards the dining room. "You're my least favourite sibling." You joked, not looking at him.

"This is no way to talk to your older brother, Tiny." William teased you as the rest laughed at your banter.

"The only brother I have is my dearest Har here. I don't know you."

"Y-"

"For the love of God, you two!" Prince Charles laughed, putting his hand on top of yours.

As you took your seats on the table and began eating, it was natural for the family to joke over the smallest thing in the day – that, until one name was mentioned.

"Charles, when's Fred coming tomorrow?" Camilla asked, oblivious to what she started.

Your hand stopped midway, all heads turning to look at you except for Camilla who looked at your father. You let down your fork, looking up to look at Camilla. "If I may ask, who's Fred?"

"You know, Prince Fred." She said before taking a bite of her food.

You looked at your father who sighed and laced his fingers together on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't aware of your friendship with Prince Fred, Pa."

The tension in the air was thick and enough to have your brothers quietly let down their utensils and look at your father, waiting for an explanation.

"Darling, your grandmother especially requested this dinner with the young man."

"My grandmother requested a lot of things, Pa," You chuckled half-heartedly, "Like marrying him."

"Y/N, I-"

"You told me I can control my own life," you started, shaking your head in disbelief. "What was that then, huh? Were you getting my hopes up for nothing?"

"Of course not, Y/N! Listen, Y/N, it's-" he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before looking at you, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You asked in disbelief, furrowing your eyebrows, "It's my life!" You laughed bitterly in shock.

"You have to understand that it's not easy to change your grandmother's mind and Fred's family is entirely depending on the marriage. We gave them a word years ago, Y/N." He spoke softly, something that contrasted what you felt, “This is politics, darling, and politics is messy.”

You slumped in your seat in disbelief, looking down at your lap for a second.

"I think we should all calm down a little." Your brother, Har suggested gently, glancing between your father to you.

You looked up after taking a breath, tilting your head to look at your father. With a calm and collected voice, you spoke, "I'm not marrying anyone I'm not in love with and no one is changing my goddamn mind." With that, you stood up, your chair screeching as you pushed it back, eyes set on your father, “It’s your word against mine.” And with that, you stormed out of the room, Har instantly standing and jogging after you.

William sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at his father who rested his hand on his temple in distress. "This is unfair to her, and you know it.”

“Your grandmother believes this will strengthen the ties between our family Fred’s! It was agreed on ever since your sister was a child.”

“Well she’s not anymore, is she?” William replied, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up and walking away.

[foulcrownkryptonite]

Tracing Constellations

A storm rages through the 104th's wooded training quarters, leaving a long hike for Jean and Marco to fix a water-logged issue... the time alone making for some unexpected discoveries.

(for the sake of the fic + levels of maturity I am achieving with this story, everyone will be legal adults!)

Chapter One: An Obscurity.

“I’ll kill them all! Just you wait and see!!” The dining hall had been relatively calm, the tranquil buzz of steady conversation and cutlery clinking against plates mixed to create a pleasant hum. It was one of those rare nights their usual starchy glop was exchanged for a more sustainable, hearty potato soup, paired with a cheap but effective booze. A good night to say the least. A good night until Eren (Dumbass) Jaeger opened his obnoxious mouth. The young man’s tired phrase reverberated throughout the hall, pitching obnoxiously off the high ember ceiling. God, I’m too sober for this…

Eren’s endless prattling of ‘I’ll save the world’ or ‘I have more passion than anyone here’ had gotten old fast. It bugged the ever-loving shit out of him, and with the current daggers-for-eyes and under-the-breath-scoffs Jaeger was getting, the sentiment was well shared.

“Don’t give me that Mikasa, I mean it! I’m going to kill every last one of those-'' Eren was promptly cut off by Jean’s hands smacking the table in front of him, causing a nearby fork to clink to the ground. Jean rose from his seat with an overly dramatic flare, making a show out of swooping his hair back. If the entire dining hall weren’t already watching the pair with dreadful, tired looks, they certainly were now. Some hushed whispers and exasperated groans sprinkled about the room as Jean assumed his stance towering over Eren.

“Well, all hail King Jaeger, eh? Oh don’t worry my friends, the man who can’t balance on his ODM gear will stop the incoming apocalypse!” he taunted, voice oozing with that special kind of ridicule Jean knew got Eren’s blood boiling. He was up and out of his seat before Mikasa had a chance to pull him back. Jean snorted loudly.

“Eager are we? Well then Jaeger, fight me like the man you’re always claiming to be.”

“Says the fucking horse face”

“Oh how original”

“Foal!”

“Jackass!”

The surrounding cadets watched with jaded faces, sighing at the scene unfolding for at least the third time that week. It was no longer entertaining, or really worth wasting any time or energy on, so they returned their attention to their much more exciting dinners and side banters.

The ever arrogant duo stepped to the center of the room, assuming, of course, all focus to be on them. Sharing dissent and ill-bred sneers, they theatrically assumed their fighting position. Guess I’ll just have to put him back in his pla-

“Nope. Okay-hah, we’re done here.” Marco interrupted, their foolish behavior striking his last nerve, the last nerve of the entire collective dining hall for that matter. Sighs of relief and annoyance sounded around them as Marco marched over and grabbed at Jean’s jacket, pulling him out from the table and towards the door.

“‘Ey, what’re you doin-” Marco wordlessly dragged the half pissed, half confused and positively tipsy Jean across the room, the grip on his jacket unwavering. A small chuckle escaped Jean’s mouth at Marco's unexpectedly forceful behavior. Damn, those muscles aren’t just for show, huh?

Marco sighed as he led him towards the door, a poorly concealed smile creeping its way onto his features. “Bedtime.” Marco concluded, biting back his smile in need of a more threatening look. Jean didn’t fight it. Instead, he bristled as he caught Conny’s snide face before the door to the dining hall was shut by Marco’s boot. The low lit lantern illuminated the two in a soft orange glow and the thick wooden door effectively drowned out the murmurs coming from behind it.

The change in air was drastic, shifting from a crowded and loud mess hall to the peaceful sounds of an autumn night and Marco’s freckled face incandescent under that old lantern. Marco’s hand remained firm in the layers of his jacket yet neither made motions to move. Jean was in a weird sort of trance and yeah he should move and unblock the way for Marco but for some reason he didn't. It wasn’t as if the other had really given him a chance to, what with him still holding onto the front of Jean’s coat.. A couple still moments passed and Marco had a strange, almost calculating look on his face.

Jean couldn't remember how long he had been standing there, the alcohol starting to intoxicate his body and the sheer closeness of Marco starting to intoxicate his brain. But if the loosening grip on his chest and Marco’s suddenly flushing face said anything, whatever this was had gone on a bit too long. The last thing Jean wanted was to make his good friend uncomfortable- No matter how nice just standing there in the cool breeze with Marco’s hand on his chest… Nope. Backtrack on that line of thinking. Immediately.

Things were getting awkward fast and Marco looked like he was going to say something and shit he probably shouldn’t have chugged that last bit of his drink, huh? To clear the sudden tension caused by his inability not to fucking gawk at Marco, Jean did the only thing his dumb tipsy brain could think of: make a drunken escape.

“Betcha can’t catch me.” he blurted before breaking out of Marco’s loose hold, running towards their quarters in a less than put together fashion. Was Jean literally running away from whatever moment just passed between the two? Why yes, indeed he was. But Marco’s eventual breathy laugh and quickening footsteps enclosing in on him told Jean everything was fine. Well consider that a job well done.

The two then stupidly ran around the camp, Jean hiding behind every tree and supply wagon trying to scare Marco, and Marco doing everything in his power to tackle the other. After a particularly bone crushing embrace and a loud laughing fit quickly admonished by Shadis, the inebriated pair walked the rest of the way to their dorm, the air around them now whimsy and casual.

They trudged through the wooded path, torches lighting the ground every few yards. They sprung into sporadic fits of giggles over absolutely nothing, both of the men now feeling the full effects of dinner’ mead, and Marco no longer playing the role of the responsible sober friend.

The cadets had been training in the woods for a week now, the goal being to get them used to ODM gear and combat in a dense forest. It was a welcome change of scenery from the usual parching desert and brutal heat. Being surrounded by rich greens and active rivers somehow made the strenuous drilling and long hours somewhat enjoyable.

Though navigating the dark forested path whilst drunk proved to be more than a little difficult. His attempts at walking straight in the dense woods were apparently remarkably entertaining, as when Jean confidently waltzed straight into a tree the slightly less drunk Marco lost his absolute mind, laughing himself into a puddle on the ground.

With minimal bumps and bruises, they eventually made it to their quarters. Marco plopped himself dramatically onto an old shipping barrel and started to squirm his way out of his jacket. Ok, perhaps the other was drunker than Jean thought.

Chuckling to himself, he walked over to help his struggling friend out of the confines of the fabric. Marco stopped squirming and tried to accommodate for Jeans helping hands, flushing slightly when his eyes met Jeans. He quickly averted his gaze, turning to eye the door as Jean finished struggling with the last button.

With the jacket discarded, Marco straightened his gaze to look up at Jean, who seemed to tower over him. A couple heated seconds passed in silence until Marco started… shaking? Before concern could settle in, sporadic chuckles started to escape from the man underneath him, evolving into a full on belly laugh. Jean took a small step back and looked down at him in bewilderment but Marco just shook his head, words be damned in his current state.

“Sorry, I just-” he began to topple over himself, a fit of laughter bubbling in his stomach. “I don’t know why I’m laughing honestly-” he spat out through giggles. He was fluctuating between attempting to catch his breath and then losing it all over again. It was utterly ridiculous, but Jean couldn’t hold back his own ugly laugh at the scene. Every couple of seconds Marco would try to stop and speak through the laughter but to no avail, making Jean slump to the ground in front of Marco, clutching his stomach as his body heaved with mirth.

Marco was snorting at that point and on anyone else he would’ve been annoyed at the sheer volume. Say, if Eren was sitting on that barrel losing his damn mind over nothing at all he would’ve slapped the sense back into him. But something about Marco’s water filled eyes and big loud smile just made him feel warm. Or.. perhaps that was just the alcohol.

He grinned as he looked only at the mad man sitting in front of him. From this distance he could see each little freckle adorning his nose and cheeks and the way his nose would scrunch in between sets of giggles. It was an endearing sight, cute even, though Jean would never admit that aloud.

Too caught up in their snickering, the two almost didn’t notice their comrades briskly stumbling in, Ymir being the one who pushed the two large wooden doors hurriedly. “In.” she commanded, and stepped back as everyone else dashed inside. Jean startled and Marco’s laughter alleviated as Ymir eyed them, her face contorted so it was impressively indecipherable. She had quite the poker face, though some general annoyance seemed to seep out as usual.

“What’s the damn ruckus about?” Jean demanded more than he asked, his filter coming back down hard now that more people were around. Ymir looked at Jean with a face that basically read as, ‘Shut the fuck up you’re the one making a dopey ruckus.’ Instead of voicing any of that though, she shut and locked the door as the final cadets made their way inside.

“Massive storm coming in, it’ll do some damage” she stated plainly before her eyes went back to Marco. “Maybe you two lovebirds would’ve noticed if you weren’t screaming like damn hyenas.” she joked dryly, her arms coming to a close across her chest. Marco snorted slightly at the tease but Jean stood up defensively, though perhaps a bit wobbly.

Before he could say a word, Ymir cut in with a raised brow. “Whoaaa relax there horsey, I’m kidding. Mostly. Just go lock the windows in the other rooms before they blow out in the middle of the night.” he nodded hesitantly in response and gave Marco a floppy wave of sorts. He still looked like he was glowing, as if somehow the light from the torches outside still reflected in his pale brown eyes. A sneer from Ymir brought his attention back to… what exactly? Oh right, the windows. Jean quickly left without another word, cursing the alcohol slightly under his breath. The rest of the cadets shuffled about, fulfilling whatever it was their makeshift Captain Ymir ordered.

Not without a scoff and an eye roll, she turned back to Marco. “Just us,” she demanded. “Help me with the rest of the rooms.”

__________

(MARCO POV)

After a solid half hour of flood-proofing the place to the best of their ability, as well as general clean up, Ymir poured the two of them a small whisky to top off the night. Marco relaxed into the sole couch of the common room and Ymir slumped herself into a chair by the window.

The living space was dusky and growing winds pounded the windows, putting them slightly on edge. Nevertheless, Ymir seemed to have something to say to him. She gulped down her drink and tossed the empty glass onto the ground, Marco’s eyes widening in both awe and intimidation. He steeled his nerves as he prepared for whatever it was Ymir needed out of him.

She looked at him like a scientist to a specimen, searching for something upon Marco’s features. Marco squirmed under the intense stare, and it was then that Ymir asked the burning question, cutting right to the chase.

“Do you like Jean?” she probed. Marco sucked in a quick breath at this question. The answer was yes, but why was she asking in the first place? Not knowing exactly what angle she was getting at, he tried to answer in the simplest, most non revealing way.

“Yeah I mean we’re definitely good friends.” he said apprehensively. Not wanting to look Ymir in the eyes, his gaze fell back to the rather pretty glass in his hands, thumbs tracing the engraved pattern.

Ymir smirked at this reaction and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees in a carefree ‘Ymir’ kinda way. “Marco. You know what I'm asking.” her voice was laced with mirth and her sneering face told him she probably already knew his answer. Damn her perceptiveness. Marco had hoped he wasn’t too obvious in his… feelings. But he supposes after tonight's less than subtle antics, e.g., grabbing a laughing Jean into an animalistic embrace and holding it for much longer than necessary, people would start suspecting something.

His eyes still didn’t meet hers as he sighed shakily, knowing there was little to no backing away from this conversation. “Please just… Don’t tell him?” he pleaded, looking back to the girl sitting across from him. Her previous visible mockery and inevitable taunt had faded, her features setting into something akin to understanding.

“Sure, you can trust me.” she said casually, taking a swig of the remaining whisky straight from the bottle. “We’re the same in that way if ya catch my drift.” Although compared to, say Christa, Ymir’s words would seem invasive and rude, they were sweet in their own way. And although Marco wouldn’t say this wasn’t invasive, he appreciated the kindness nonetheless.

Regardless, Marco definitely “caught her drift”. He looked at her with a sort of twinkle in his eyes, pleased to know there was at least one other person in the 104th that wasn’t straight. He chuckled, still embarrassed despite the genuinely accepting nature of their conversation thus far. “God, what gave it away?”

“Oh, I dunno,” she sighed dramatically, “Maybe the way he was looking at you. Maybe the way you were looking at him… Or maybe just a hunch I happened to get right.” Marco laughed at the sentiment before a frown crept onto his face. “Does anyone else…”

“Know?” she finished. Marco nodded. “No, they don’t. It seems only I had the misfortune of seeing you two ogle each other all the damn time. Awful luck on my part. But don’t ya worry, your dirty little secret’s safe with me.”

He snickered as he raised his glass to his lips, downing the rest of the liquid inside. Ymir gave him a curious glance, and Marco softly set the drink down to his side, hands reaching up to grab at his warming face.

“God, what do I even do about it?” he mumbled through the palms of his hands, and Ymir could taste the desperation from where she sat.

Resting her chin between her fingers, she spoke. “Look, hear me out before you interrupt and tell me I’m wrong - but he likes you too.” Marco lifted his head to speak but Ymir cut him off with a glance. “I said, listen. I see the way he looks at you. I saw the way he looked at you tonight. He wasn’t just glancing at his friend… He was admiring you, Marco, your features. Now to me, that’s pretty telling.” Marco contemplated what she was saying, tried to really think about it before he shot it down entirely.

Is that really true? Is it even possible that the oh so straight Mr. ladies man Jean could… Feel the same way about him? It’s true they had some… moments tonight. Hell they’ve been having “moments” for as long as they've known each other. Though Jean did end up speeding away from one of those so called moments just over an hour ago… Was he being too hopeful? Oh god was he coming on too strong?

Ymir groaned at Marco's crestfallen face and stood up, closing the distance between the seats and plopping herself next to Marco. He gave her a curious glance, and in turn she gave a patient smile, well it was really closer to a grimace but still, it was the principle of it all.

He sat quietly, picking his lips with his bottom teeth. Ymir let him wallow in his worry for a whopping three seconds before kicking his ankle with her boot.

“Ow!” Marco pouted. An unspoken question of ‘The hell was that for?’ being shut down before it could be voiced.

“Oh shut it you were visibly spiraling.”

Ymir sunk into the back of the couch, pondering a moment before speaking again.

“You know, Jean isn’t going to initiate anything. Seeing as you’re more in tune with your emotions than that knucklehead is, you need to drop your damn balls and make a move.” Marco scoffed, shaking his head with a slight smile at Ymir’s bluntness.

“I know, I know… You’re right.” Marco finally begrudged, causing Ymir’s ‘Of course I'm right’ smile to appear. “But we never get alone time - we’re always interrupted before he can fully open up to me…”

“Yes!” Ymir exclaimed. “You see it now. Sure it might seem tricky, but if Christa and I can find a way, you can too.” she winked and Marco damn near choked.

“You- and- I had no idea I mean-“ he stuttered before she kicked him again.

“Shut up. And don’t tell a soul.” She smiled cheekily. He nodded intently.

“Course, Ymir.” She playfully punched him, standing up from the sunken couch.

“Good luck, Marco.” she whispered.

He beamed, his chest gleaming with a soft gratitude. “Thank you.”

When Marco turned in for the night, his mind raced with endless possibilities, ranging from transcendent to nightmarish. Wishful thoughts flashed through his mind; Jean getting impossibly close, feather light touches of hands, his head resting in the crook of Jean’s neck, Marco being told he was wanted, telling Jean he wanted him. He bit his cheek, smiling stupidly at the fantasies before he felt a deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jean could easily not feel the same. Jean could easily have never entertained the same idyllic fantasies as Marco was now.

Great, now it hurt.

Plagued with a new sense of guilt, he tossed and turned in the seasoned cot, praying for sleep to take him away from the build up of emotions in his chest. He pondered the possibility of similar thoughts dancing in Jean’s mind…

__________

(Jean POV)

Jean didn’t “wake up”, he just was up. That damned storm last night had kept him awake practically all night. What first was an occasional gust quickly turned into a rampaging wind-demon set out to prevent him and apparently only him from sleeping soundly. Someone had cursed him. Probably that damn Jaeger out for revenge due to Jean always winning their feuds. Typical.

The little sleep he did get consisted of repeated unsolicited scenarios about… Well that didn’t matter now.

It was the morning after a ferocious storm and he was reluctant to see the wreckage he knew he had to help out with. He groaned, rolling out of his bed in an overly dramatic pout. Sure he was acting a bit like a child but right now he just needed sleep so damn everything else, he’s going to throw his little fit. He caught Marco looking at him out of the corner of his eye, his hair ruffled and looking extra fluffy. He was giggling at Jean’s stubborn theatrics, a sweater-hooded hand loosely covering his mouth. Cute. Jean felt a bit more energized after that and he didn't bother to question why.

Once dressed, he headed out to meet the rest of the trainees outside the sleeping quarters. Holy hell, the damage was bad: shingles of the roof scattered the grass, trash was knocked down, even some large trees had fallen in the distance.

Eren rolled his eyes before their commander could even step close. “God, can’t we make someone else clea-” the brat began before getting hit softly by Armin.

“Eren! One day of cleanup doesn’t equate to the fall of humanity.” he sharply retorted. Jean chuckled at this exchange, overjoyed to see the prick put in his place by his own best friend. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to spot Marco…

“ATTENTION CADETS.” their Commander roared as he marched toward the gathered crowd.

“YES SIR!” They yelled back in unison, fists crossing chests in an assertive salute.

“Deep woods ODM training is put on hold for today due to the storm. I will be assigning you each in groups of two or three to aid in cleaning this mess.” Jean scanned the surrounding area nervously, where was Marco? “Proceed to the front to get your duty from me before you grab a cold meal.” the Commander directed. Pairs of people made their way to get their job of the day, but Jean stayed behind, unable to spot Marco. Nerves crept up his spine as the line got shorter, indicating he would have to grab a job with someone he possibly couldn’t stand - especially after such a shitty sleep.

A few moments later and the remaining crowd was scant, still no Marco to be seen. “Jean, you’re on running water. I need you to go up to the creek and find the source stopping the water from running back to us. We have enough for the day, but this cannot go on. You will need a partner…” Shadis trailed off, finding only Annie and some guy Jean barely could remember the name of. Tomas? Tobiaus? Timothious?

He sighed, knowing nothing but complaints would come from either cadets if forced to spend an entire day with him. Jean crossed his arms, awaiting a choice of partner from his boss while he dreaded the inevitably long journey stuck with either insufferable silence or annoying small talk.

“Commander sir, I can go with Jean.” A pleasant voice chirped in from behind. And with those few words: salvation. Jean subconsciously uncrossed his arms and smirked as the Commander let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Marco approach.

“Thank Heavens, the one person who can stand him.” he murmured, Marco frowning at the not so quiet comment as he walked up to Jean's side. “That is fine, pack plentiful in case you get stuck for a night, we are not sure how much wreckage is up there, nor how long the journey on foot will take. There’s a shed around there you could set up in for the night. Do not come back today if you do not have ample time before sundown. Now get moving!” he ordered, his last words reverberating in a loud squawk.

“Yes sir!” They saluted before Jean met eyes with Marco. “Where the hell were you?” he questioned. Marco playfully rolled his eyes.

“Worried, hmm?” he chuckled, “Don’t worry, I was just helping Ymir with something.” he replied brightly. Ymir? That seems random… But he decided to not question it.

The two went back to their rooms to pack for their lengthy and no doubt strenuous trip up the mountain. Jean found himself not only not dreading the excursion, but actively looking forward to it. He felt a bit like a hyperactive kid as genuine excitement coursed through his veins. Should he bring his comb? Nah he probably won't need it. But what if they do end up having to spend the night and Jean turns too much in his sleep and his hair gets all messy and floofy and Marco looks at him with damned bed head and then probably giggles to himself and makes a dumb but cute comment about it because its Marco and somehow he always manages to make what Jean is insecure about into something he can actually like about himself just like when he’d said Jean’s eyes were pretty like a brown hibiscus and he stopped hating the way his eyes looked when he saw his reflection looking back at him and- Jean grabbed the stupid hairbrush and threw it into his bag.

Once sufficiently supplied, they scarfed a crummy cold meal before heading out as quickly they could manage.

Marco seemed awfully giddy as they started down a gravely path lined with fern. Though cheerful he often was, Marco was struggling to hide a smile. It wasn’t a bad sight at all, though Jean was curious. “What’s got you so damn happy today?” he questioned. Marco shrugged.

“I think I made a new friend - always a nice feeling, yknow?” Jean would say he’s surprised, but everyone in the 104th loved Marco, even the stoic ones, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who exactly his new friend was.

“Ymir?” he asked plainly. Marco nodded, a soft smile finding its way onto his face.

“Yeah. Y’know, she may seem edgy but she can be really kind.” he expressed, eyes a bit starry and thoughtful. He clearly didn’t hear how the words sounded to Jean.

Jean bit back the bitter remark already forming as envy crept its way into his mind. Why was it bothering him? He’s still his friend. His best friend even. Gah, not a big deal, keep it together. He told himself before rephrasing whatever edgy comment he was going to sneer into a hopefully harmless question.

“You like her?” he ended up asking, false humor falling from his tongue.

Marco looked visibly confused. “What? No I’m- not my type. She just has a good head on her.” he surmised. Why won’t Marco ever admit attraction? Does he not trust Jean? Jean had no problem divulging about those he found hot, so why wouldn’t Marco do the same?

The next few hours were spent bullshitting around as they walked; sharing stupid jokes about who in their class was most likely to get kicked out, a stupid conversation about Ymir that probably shouldn’t have peeved him so much, Jean going on a long winded rant about how justified he is in smacking Eren atop the head, Marco stopping to pick up random bird feathers exclaiming each time that, “No Jean, you don’t get it, this one is rare.” and eventually, as the sun started its descent towards the horizon, their casual banter shifted into their hopes for the future.

“Eh, I don’t wanna get married. Who wants to be stuck with a chick forever?!” Jean quipped. At his words Marco chuckled nervously, his gaze diverting to the coarse dirt beneath him.

“Yeah, me too. I don’t wanna get married. I’m fine living a life alone with me and my hobbies.” he said flippantly, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. Jean found the tone of his voice had changed into something more sullen and somber, and a glance over at his friend did not yield him any better results. Jean must do something about this.

He lightly elbowed his friend. “Well, if ya change your mind, I think you’d make a great husband some day.” Jean said honestly, no lick of sarcasm to his voice. Marco’s knees wobbled for a moment before he corrected them, clearing his throat to cover his obvious nerves.

“Thanks, Jean. You too.” he replied, biting his cheek. Another glance towards his friend showed a soft smile and a flushed face. Jean succeeded. Though now he too felt a bit hot in the face. He once again decided not to unpack that.

As they hiked, they spotted a would-be stream leading down to their base. Taking note of the lack of obvious running water, they were certain something rather large had blocked it. “Guess it’ll be a chore huh.” Marco pointed out. Jean began flexing dramatically, his tight muscles showing slightly through the thin white tunic.

“Pfft, your ol’ buddy Jean here will fix it right up for us, eh?” he joked, Marco eyeing him with a raised eyebrow followed with a hearty laugh. Sure, he wasn’t helping Jean’s ego, but he didn’t care.

The more they conversed alone, the more Jean felt his social facade fade, ending up losing whatever filter he had in place for other people all together. He wasn’t sure why this was the case, only knew that it made him feel relaxed and just genuinely, all around good. Perhaps it was the lack of a crowd - or Eren Jaeger. Either way, he was loosening up and took joy in seeing Marco enjoy himself on this trip as well.

“This is nice,” Jean said, smiling at the open air and lack of obvious walls. It felt open here, almost free. Hell, for the most part, they’ve forgotten completely about life inside the walls. Marco looked over and followed his friend's gaze to the sky, basking in the comfortable feeling.

“It is…” he began, sneaking another glance at Jean. “Really nice.”.

PART 2!!! 

https://foulcrownkryptonite.tumblr.com/post/663166809268224000/tracing-constellations-pt2

[novelconcepts]

Greetings Novel. I was wondering, would you ever consider writing a vampire and/or werewolf Damie version? There’s already such a strong emotional connection whenever those stories are told, and I think you would just enhance that because you have such a knack for relaying Dani and Jamie’s thoughts and feelings. Anyway, just an idea because I love those tales and you’re absolutely one of my favorite authors. 😊

It’s the quiet she likes best, she thinks. The quiet, the dark, the simplicity. No one asks anything of her anymore. No one makes demands. She belongs to no one at all these days, for the first time since she can remember.

Except the Lady. She’ll always belong to her. 

But there’s a give to these things as well as a take, and Dani Clayton sometimes thinks it’s worth it. Worth it, not to have to sit at dinner parties and elegant balls. Worth it, not to have to titter and engage in small talk. Worth it, not to have to wear the ring.

Worth it, to leave him behind. 

And if it’s all shadow, all lonely, all deep-rooted ache she can never seem to soothe, that’s fine enough. She belongs to no one. No one except the Lady, and the Lady asks so little of her. Only to carry the curse--the disease--the hunger. Only to feed the shade coiled around the remnants of her old self. Only to wake. To walk. To drink. 

It’s dramatic, she thinks, but a little theater never hurt anyone. She makes sure of that much. It’s sustainable, so long as she keeps walking, walking, walking in the quiet. The dark. The simplicity.

It’s sustainable, until she reaches the village.

***

The pub is nearly empty. Too late, or too cold, or too poor an economic situation for carousing to be the game--Dani doesn’t much care which is the real reason. She likes the emptiness of the tables, chairs pushed patiently into place, every surface as clean as it is old. She likes the warm lighting, the oak bar, the smooth wooden floorboards under her boots. 

The mirror, she does not care for, turning her head swiftly away so as not to see the void where a young woman ought to stand. This part, she has never grown used to. This part, even after carrying the Lady--the Lady’s curse, more like, to hunger and need and wallow in lonely anger--for decades. She barely remembers, now, what that woman looks like. Blonde hair. Pale skin. Paler now than it had been in life, but only by so much--her mother had held such strong opinions as to what women should do with their time, and lounging in the sun had never been part of the pageant. Polite society, Danielle, has no use for a lady like that. 

Like what? she’d always wondered, never quite daring to ask. Adventurous? Athletic? Interesting?

No matter. The past is long, long dead--deader even than she could imagine back then, dreaming of being someone else. Someone free. All of them are gone now: her mother, with her antiquated ideas; her mother’s friends, who peered down their noses at Dani and smiled without heart; even Edmund. Even him. 

Long dead, now. Old age, or unrepentant illness, or freak accident--she doesn’t know. She wasn't there. 

The woman she was is dead, too, Danielle Clayton buried in a grave she’d only hauled herself back out of the next night. The Lady had whispered in her ear, granted unexpected strength, unexpected fury. Danielle went in. Dani came back out again. No one ever needs to remember. 

And no one ever has. She’s been walking for--fifty years, now? More, maybe. The date on the newspaper crumpled on one table reads June 24, 1987. More than fifty years gone in a blink, and Dani is still here. Washed clean, maybe, of all the bits that had once made up a patient, kind, hopeful young teacher. But here all the same. 

She settles at the table, drawing a book from her bag. The night is still young, the hunger not yet pricking at her patience. It’s good to start smooth, start simple, to remind the Lady that the curse might have its needs, but it is Dani who is still in control. Dani, who, despite making a decision unwary of its consequences so long ago, has managed to hang on this long.

Still here. Still walking. Still--

“Get you something?”

Her head snaps up, her body primed to run. An old instinct. As if anyone could touch her without consent now.

The woman watching her looks curious, but only faintly so, as if by old habit. Her hair is tied off her face with a bandana, her sleeves cuffed at the elbows. There is a loveliness about her Dani has always fostered a weakness for--a loveliness that matches, in a less primal way, that of the Lady who had come to her in that dream so long ago. Walk with me. Walk with me, and you’ll never be alone again. 

She shakes her head, smiles. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Right,” says the woman slowly. “Only, this isn’t a library. Don’t order something, Tom’ll have me throw you out.”

She speaks like she doesn’t much care one way or another, but Dani has been around long enough to read between the lines of a person. The words are callous, but the inflection is specific--the emphasis placed not on throw you out as a threat, but Tom’ll have me. An apology before an offense. The woman glances toward the window, aware of the wind battering the glass, her expression calmly letting Dani know I’d rather not have to. 

“I’ll have whatever’s your favorite,” Dani says. Eyebrows raise, the woman’s head tilting. 

“Mine?”

“Sure.” Dani smiles, reaches across, touches the woman’s hand lightly where it rests on the table. It’s easier, influencing human minds through touch. She doesn’t like doing it at all, if she can help it--there’s a film over the idea, a nasty oily sense of wrong--but sometimes it can’t be helped. People who look at her the way this woman is looking tend to become a problem.

People who smile at her the way this woman is beginning to smile, lips quirking up at the corners like she doesn’t quite mean to, tend to become a danger to themselves and others. 

Mostly themselves.

The woman disappears briefly behind the bar; Dani, aware of the mirror, doesn’t watch her go. Her eyes remain on her book, her fingers tracing mindless sigils into the table until a glass is set gently down before her. A thin amber ale of some kind--Dani feels no curiosity, no interest at all. She smiles. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure,” the woman says. Hesitates, as though wanting to say more. Shakes her head. The fog--the sense of forget Dani brings in her wake--is already sinking its claws into this woman, already wiping Dani away. Good. It’s best when they don’t see her, don’t take an interest, don’t remember when she’s gone.

Especially women who smile like this one. 

She leaves the drink untouched, putting away two chapters in easy silence. Money, she drops on the table. No one looks up as she strides back out into the dark. 

Tonight’s meal will be found elsewhere.

***

The story should end here, she knows--a person like Dani is only still here because she’s long-since learned the art of keep moving. The Lady commands it. The Lady is impatient to walk. 

The hunger, pushing in along her ribs, pulsing under her wrists, is impatient for more. 

She ought to leave the little village be. There’s not much here to begin with, and it’s dangerous to feed in places where one single thread can be followed to each house in turn. Dani’s careful not to hurt where she doesn’t have to, not to kill ever--a little time, a little tender care, is all it takes to prevent it. She hasn’t left a body behind in almost thirty years. There’s really no excuse for making a kill where one could simply leave a vacant few minutes of memory, she thinks. 

Not that humans recognize the kindness for what it is. Not that she can blame them for their fear. She was afraid once, too--waiting, always, for the Lady to become Beast, for her to rise up over Dani’s good sense and turn her into something hateful. Dying, for Dani, hadn’t been the hard part. The idea of becoming something she isn’t...

But it’s been years and years, and she is still here. Still Dani. Lonely, and quiet, and living the simplest life she can manage, given the circumstances.

And back at this same pub again.

Shouldn’t, she thinks--knows, though she’s pushing the door open and striding back to that same table again. Out comes the book. Her eyes remain resolutely clear of the bar, of the mirror, of any patrons who might give her trouble. 

“Back again?”

The woman, this time in a t-shirt, her curls loose around her face. Same woman. Same smile. Same problem. 

Dani really knows better. 

“Noticed you didn’t touch the ale,” the woman points out, leaning her hip against the table. There’s a quiet confidence to the way she holds herself, a constrained line of motion that says she’s in no hurry. Dani watches her, smiling a little, and thinks, Shouldn’t be here. 

“No, I,” she begins to reply. Her smile fades to a frown. “Wait. Noticed.”

“Yeah,” the woman says. “And you overpaid. Drinks much pricier in America, then?”

Dani wouldn’t know. Dani hasn’t set foot in America since the sixties. 

“I guess,” she says, still puzzled. This woman shouldn’t be speaking of last night as though it was--well. Only last night. This woman shouldn’t remember Dani at all. The Lady’s influence generally makes certain of that. 

All these years, it’s never failed her. 

That is the idea.

“Something darker tonight, maybe?” the woman goes on, watching Dani with shrewd eyes. “A stout?”

“Okay,” Dani agrees, knowing full well she won’t touch it when the drink comes, and finding herself quite unable to say no. Quite unable to do what she should, which is to slip out before the woman can return to this table and smile at her again.

Try harder, she tells herself, when the glass is standing proudly beside her book, laid face-down on the table. Try harder to do it. Because, the thing is, if this woman remembers her--if this woman keeps remembering her--she’s bound to find herself on the other side of a beheading. A torch. A particularly sharp slat of wood. 

Her hand brushes the woman’s again, her fingers tingling. The skin is soft, the nails short; when she turns the woman’s hand over in her own, she finds callouses on the pads of her fingers. 

“Bold,” the woman says, amused--but there’s a flare of something more in her eyes, matching her smile too well. Dani swallows. Presses forward with her own mind, gently caressing the woman’s intentions. Forget me, she wills. I was never here. 

“Enjoy,” the woman says, the clear focus in her eyes drifting to hazy confusion. 

Dani watches her go, her chest tight with an unfamiliar sensation--something like hunger, and yet...

No one, she thinks, has ever remembered her when she’d wanted them to forget. No one since the Lady’s curse. Even Edmund, who had dreamed of a big wedding, a big house, a big family since they were children, had forgotten her, in the end. Easily. She’d willed it, and walked away, and he had forgotten she’d ever climbed out of that grave. 

This woman, whose name is not Dani’s to know, whose life is not Dani’s to touch, remembered. 

Even as she’s leaving, even as she’s slipping out into the dark to find someone to dull the Lady’s hunger, Dani knows she’ll be back again. A terrible idea. A terrible test of the universe’s machinations. And yet.

She can’t erase the curiosity, bent behind a shop with a young woman’s wrist pulsing warm against her lips. She can’t erase the way the woman had smiled at her with knowing amusement, as her teeth sharpen and the Lady takes what she needs. She can’t forget, as copper runs sweet across her tongue, and the girl sitting on the pavement heaves a languid sigh beneath her. 

It’s an awful idea. Truly, the worst. 

She has to know.

***

“Starting to think you don’t actually drink.”

The woman actually sits this time, sprawling into the chair across from Dani as though belonging there all along. Dani bites down on a smile.

“Why else would I come to a place like this?”

“The company?” the woman suggests, and though her tone is idle, her smile scorches. Dani shakes her head, laughing. 

She can’t remember the last time she laughed. 

“I’m not supposed to be here,” she confides. The woman raises her eyebrows. 

“Where are you supposed to be?”

Alone, Dani thinks. Forgotten, Dani thinks. That was the deal, Dani thinks, the price of a young woman’s freedom. Wake. Walk. Feed. There has never needed to be anything else. 

“Not here,” she settles on saying--a truth without teeth. The woman nods slowly, leaning across the table, her hand sliding over pocked wood to brush Dani’s wrist. 

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you. Twice is an accident. Three is a habit.”

She isn’t wrong. Two people in this village bear Dani’s mark now, the inner slope of their wrists stained with new scars they won’t be able to explain. She’ll have to drink from a third tonight, and the odds of getting out unscathed--even with the fog clearing her from their minds the minute she walks away--shrink yet again. This isn’t a good idea. 

But this woman, impossibly, illogically, remembers her. Forgot, maybe, briefly--in the time it took Dani to pay and leave--and then the memory just...sprang back into place. Dani has made mistakes with women before, has let their smiles grace her heart in ways she was never meant to allow, but it’s never resulted in this. 

“I’m Jamie,” the woman says, and Dani almost recoils--almost says, Don’t tell me that, don’t put that on me, you’re not supposed to remember--but I won’t be able to forget. 

“Dani,” she says instead, and feels the Lady pulse deep in the place she’s always imagined her soul to rest. The Lady, a curse--a gift--a structure around which she’s built her second chance at life. The Lady, who looks upon Jamie now and sends a powerful swell of hunger up through Dani’s bones. 

Take her. Take her. She wants it, look at her. 

Jamie does, Dani senses, want something. Something that has no need for Dani’s influence, no requirement for Dani pulling the strings. Jamie wants something from her--something honest, something human--and the very idea of it spikes fresh terror like she hasn’t felt in decades.

“This is a bad idea,” she says in a low voice. “It’s dangerous.”

Jamie, fingers tracing Dani’s palm, searching out her lifeline, shrugs. “Always is. Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.”

***

There’s a place upstairs, a little flat. Jamie leads the way as though she’s done this a hundred times, taking Dani’s hand with an almost nonchalant gesture. 

“If you let me in,” Dani says, “this gets so much more complicated.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Jamie says. She should be laughing as she says it, a flirtatious bit of banter designed to delight, but she isn’t. She’s looking at Dani, her free hand turning the key, like she already understands. 

“I’m not,” Dani says. Stops. Sighs. “I’m not what you’re--what you think I--”

“Start here,” Jamie says, and pushes open the door. An invitation without words, one Dani can’t resist leaning into. She hasn’t let herself accept an invitation like this in so long. 

Take her, the Lady breathes. Take her, bring her to me. Dani squeezes her hands into fists, the familiar rage of hunger grinding against this new, too-human variant. Jamie is closing the door, kicking off her shoes, smiling. 

The smile is what really breaks her. The smile, which is a little teasing, a little tempting, but mostly just real. 

She’s kissing Jamie before she can stop herself, and even as she’s doing it, there is something too warm about it. Something too good about the way Jamie catches her, hands digging into Dani’s hair, lips parting when Dani brushes against her with the tip of her tongue. For all the skin she’s tasted, all the times she’s kissed and licked and bitten, this is different. This is--

This has no path. No road to follow to the end. No lie baked into the heart of it. Every woman she’s ever led into the dark, every time she’s ever drank deep and pulled back before the Lady can win back control, seems to fall away in comparison to how desperately she’s kissing Jamie. This person she barely knows. This woman who slips a hand around her hip like an anchor. This woman whose kiss is confident, who is smiling into her, who leans back breathlessly and says, “You’re sure about this?”

“Don’t ask me that,” Dani breathes, kissing her again. Jamie makes a soft groaning sound, tilting her head away. 

“Why not?”

“Because,” Dani says, unable to stop herself from kissing around every word, “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Shouldn’t, or don’t want to be?” Jamie is backing her against the wall, and Dani can hear her heartbeat, can’t seem to erase the dizzy scent of life pouring off of her in waves. Blood, yes, thrumming beneath her skin, but also breath, and desire, and something giddy and nameless that can only be joy. 

Such a human thing, joy. Why, then, does Dani feel it pressing in on her, too?

“Hey.” Jamie has stopped kissing her, is simply holding her face gently between her hands. Her thumbs have found Dani’s cheekbones, are pressing so lightly, Dani closes her eyes to keep from crumbling. 

“Hey.”

“If you really don’t feel good about this, we don’t have to. We can, I dunno. Talk. Or not. Whatever you want.”

Dani breathes slowly, all the little measures of human in a body that is not. She likes breathing, she’s found. Likes willing her heart to beat. Likes feeling warm, likes feeling as though any sunrise might be welcome, someday. Someday, when all of this fades. 

Like it ever can. Like the Lady would ever allow it. That wasn’t the deal.

“There are things,” she says hollowly, “you don’t know.”

“All the things,” Jamie agrees comfortably. “Everything except your name and what you don’t like to drink.”

Despite herself, Dani laughs again. She leans forward until her forehead presses Jamie’s, until Jamie’s breath coasting lightly across her lips is the only thing she can feel. 

The only thing outside of the beating, raging, desperate hunger.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” she says. “I--sometimes even I think I’m crazy.” And, really, might she be? Might this all be some delusion, some shattering of sense that has led her to believe there will be no woman waiting for her in the mirror? Or, worse, a delusion leading her to believe she is here--that she is still Dani, despite it all?

“Tell me anyway,” Jamie says, and Dani kisses her again. Kisses the edges of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the length of her neck. Kisses the place where the pulse beats like fists against a casket lid, her lips parting, her tongue flat against the salt of Jamie’s skin. She hears Jamie draw a sharp breath, one hand tight in her hair, hears Jamie say, “Yes” in a tone Dani has to fight to deny.

She doesn’t mean it. She can’t mean it. She doesn’t know. 

And Dani, though the Lady roars with that unrelenting need, can’t take. Not like this. Not here. This woman remembers her. This woman will remember tomorrow, even if Dani slips out of her bed, even if Dani never shows her face again. She’ll remember. It will, somehow, unfairly, haunt the rest of her life. 

“It’s a long story,” she says, face still buried in Jamie’s neck. Her hips are twitching against Jamie’s thigh, her hands sliding under Jamie’s shirt. “A long, crazy story.”

“I have time,” Jamie says. Dani lifts her head. Smiles. 

It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s meant to be quiet. Dark. Simple.

Lonely. 

That was the deal.

“The teacher,” she says quietly, closing her eyes as she scrounges for the beginning for the first time in over fifty years, “was, by choice, a solitary young woman...”

Jamie listens.

[harryhandstan]

two hearts in one home

or the one where the reader is homesick after moving to London to live with Harry and they attempt to make an apple pie together!

word count: 1.5k

//

Maybe it's the chill in the October air that makes you miss home so much.

London weather in the Fall was much different than the warmer, Southern climate you were accustomed to. You don't regret for a second moving to be with Harry, but something today about the cooler weather has you nostalgic for the view of the mountain and trees with the changing colors of the leaves that used to grace the view in your backyard.

So when Harry comes home to the smell of foods you had missed from home, he smiles softly to himself as he closes the door behind him. He rounds the corner from the small entryway into the kitchen, not surprised in the least to see you standing near the stove; an apron around your waist, hair up in a messy bun, fuzzy socks gliding across the floor as you work.

"Somethin' smells nice," He bends to kiss your cheek, "A little early for holiday dinner, innit?"

You smile at him, but he notices quickly that it doesn't reach your eyes. They remain sad and untouched by the gesture.

"Just craving a bit of home, I guess." You shrug.

Home. His heart sinks slightly at the grief in your voice when that word falls from your lips. You had left the home you'd known all your life to make a new one with him. He had taken you from that, and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

"You missin' home, baby?" His hands soothe from your shoulders down to your elbows.

"A little," You turn to face him, a hand pressed to his cheek, "It's almost ready if you wanna set the table for us?"

"Sure." He's grateful for the task, swallowing thickly as he moves away from you to pull plates from the cabinet and silverware from the drawer. 

The food is already warm and waiting on the table, the last thing to come out of the oven is a pan of homemade rolls your mother would be proud of. You brush them with butter before stacking them into a towel lined basket. Most of the dinner is side items, which was always your favorite part of the holiday meals anyway. You had even made a pitcher of iced tea, hoping you didn't make it too sweet for Harry.

He's already filling his plate by the time you join him and he plucks a roll from the top of the pile before you can even set the basket on the table. You fill your own plate quickly, but when he lifts his fork to dig in, you stop his hand.

"Do you mind if I pray first? Just..feels right to me."

"No, 'course, go ahead." He holds his hand out for you to place yours in, bowing his head over his plate. 

You'd always been too self conscious to say the prayer out loud over dinner around your family, scared that maybe your words wouldn't come out as elegant as you hoped they would. But things are different now, here it's just you and Harry and you express a brief thank you over the food. You lift your head and open your eyes to find Harry studying you from his spot next to you.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

He shakes his head no, his hand still clinging to yours, a thumb rubbing along your knuckles, "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, anything."

"D'you regret moving here with me?" His gaze has fallen to his plate now, terrified of what he might read on your face before you answer.

"Not for a second, Harry..why would you think that?"

"S'just that you sounded so upset when ya said you were missin' home. Got me thinkin' maybe you were second guessing your decision to move here with me."

"Never. H, please look at me," He finally does, unease still written on his features, "You are my home now. Not only the space we share here but you. I didn't mean to sound so sad. I guess I miss the people more than I do the place..my family, friends. I thought making the food might ease some of that homesickness."

"Did it?"

"A little."

"You could plan a visit. Go back to see 'em anytime ya want. Y'know that, right?"

"Of course I do. It's just not the same without you now."

"Got some time off set aside for the holidays. Mum and Gemma aren't that far and we see them more anyway, so we could take part of that to go back to see them for a bit, if ya want."

The heaviness in the air seems to have lifted and you smile as you watch him devour a few bites of his dinner.

"Sounds good, yeah. They'll be thrilled to see us, I'm sure."

"I want you to promise me if y'ever start to feel like that again, you'll tell me. Hate you feeling all homesick and sad and thinkin' you're alone."

"I will. Really, Harry, I'm okay. Honestly it just hit me a couple of hours ago while you were gone."

"Coulda called me, can always call me if I'm away and you're missin' me."

"I know. Just wanted to make myself busy today instead of worrying you."

"Y'not a worry, not ever. Moving here was a huge sacrifice and s'important to me that you know how much I love and appreciate you." 

"I love you too, Harry." The grin that spreads across his face is contagious, has you returning the expression before pointing to his plate and asking, "How is it?"

"Amazing, truly." You know he's being genuine. He relaxes into his chair, head falling back and his eyes closing. His lips pressed together, a satisfied hum around the bite of food he's currently chewing. He swallows the mouthful before continuing, "Easily the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

You roll your eyes, "Now you're just being dramatic, I know it can't be that good."

His eyes go wide at even the accusation of not being truthful, "I'm not! Promise."

"I wanted to make dessert too but I ran out of time. We've got those apples left over from the farmer's market, thought you could help me make a pie after we eat?"

"I would love to, baby."

The two of you slip comfortably into sharing the rest of the meal together; exchanging stories from your day. You're content to let him do most of the talking, the sound of his voice a warm reminder of why you'd never regret moving to be with him. It could always put you at ease, fill you with a relaxation you would never be able to find in anything else.

Putting all the leftovers away becomes a harmonious balance of both of you sharing whatever tasks needed to be done. It doesn't take long to have everything clean before you're gathering ingredients and utensils you need. The organization of your kitchen was something you insisted on, no matter if other areas of your space were sometimes cluttered or in disarray, your kitchen would always remain the opposite.

There's a tone of amusement in the air while you work; maybe it was you almost bumping into one another as you move around the kitchen, or Harry attempting to juggle the apples before he begins peeling and slicing them. But when you accidentally drop part of the flour you were so carefully trying to measure, Harry loses it. His head thrown back with a cackle at the sight of your face dusted with the white powder that had landed with a poof when the measuring cup slipped from your hand. 

Suddenly any activity you had been so focused on before was abandoned, and you fall into a fit of giggles yourself. He starts to help you clean up, a hand cupping around the mess to scoop it off the counter and make his way to the trash can. He smirks at his palms covered in flour, wiggling his fingers as he moves closer to you. 

"Harry, don't you dare!" You try to remain stern, pushing him towards the sink and urging him to wash his hands. He just can't resist though, and when you turn your back to him to restart the measurements, you yelp when a playful swat lands on your butt, leaving a perfect white handprint across one side of the back of your black leggings.

You whip around to face him, a look of shocked surprise thrown his way. His bottom lip is tucked into his mouth, his eyes bright and waiting, anticipating what revenge you may be plotting. Your mind is racing with ways you could get back at him, but all self control falls away almost immediately when he reaches to tug you closer to him. He bends to kiss you just as you're pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, and you accidentally bump your forehead against his chin. 

The action has the two of you spiraling into a burst of euphoric laughter, the pie a forgotten project until you can compose yourselves.

[somerpmemes]

Killing Eve S3 Starters

Change as needed

“If you want to be a winner you have to sacrifice everything.”

“I am so much happier now she’s dead.”

“Bureaucracy in all its glory.”

“I’m back now, with bells on.”

“We’re always like this, aren’t we?”

“We’re gonna make a fabulous team.”

“You’re not easy to replace.”

“What’s in it for you, hmm?”

“Whatever you want, I will do it.”

“Power is there for the taking, ___. You just have to be smart about how.”

“You have friends?”

“You realize to fit in here you have to be socially inept like the rest of us.”

“You know, a normal person would flake on their friend when something better turns up.”

“Well, remind me not to rely on you for anything.”

“You can hide from it, but it won’t hide from you.”

“Are you crying? Don’t be a wimp.”

“Nothing good comes fast.”

“My work remains totally untouchable.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t leave your front door open considering the amount of people that have tried to kill you.”

“Yeah, well it’s not my problem anymore.”

“You just don’t seem very happy, that’s all.”

“Who says I want to be happy?”

“You see this and you’re transported to a time of happiness?”

“Are you ever going to apologize?”

“You really don’t think you did anything wrong at all, do you?”

“Life is just a series of trade-offs, ___.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, ___.”

“Our entire relationship has had you at the center of it.”

“She’s lying, okay?”

“You’re crying because you feel stupid. Because you WERE stupid.”

“Hey, these drinks don’t involve games or organized fun, do they?”

“I hear you’re a walking miracle.”

“You know, when a bullet has been through you, it leaves something behind.”

“And then you taught me how to swear in Russian.”

“It’s about acknowledging the sad together.”

“Couldn’t we be sad and listen to good music?”

“It’s push by the way.”

“Why would I want to look ten years younger?”

“It’s good to have many lovers. Keeps you limber.”

“Winners win alone.”

“You can’t go down that path anymore.”

“So you don’t think about her anymore?”

“So, shall we just dive right in?”

“I don’t believe in distractions.”

“I’m fully capable of doing my job without any approval from you.”

“I know you think I’m a self-serving prick.”

“Some things are bigger than the job and this is one of them.”

“You have to start taking care of yourself right now or it’s going to catch up with you.”

“How long do I have to stay?”

“Anybody can fight. It takes a special person to kill.”

“Just so you know, I’m kinda a big deal in this industry.”

“You do everything I say exactly when I say it.”

“If you make me look bad I will kill you.”

“You did all that for a boyfriend?”

“You only know a country once you know it’s drink.”

“It’s good to know he was getting some before he died.”

“Being hard on someone is sometimes what they need.”

“Don’t be embarrassed will you?”

“Why don’t you go and do your thing where you close your eyes and breathe?”

“You do not get to come here without an invitation anymore!”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m moving up in the world.”

“If I killed everybody who betrayed me there would be nobody left.”

“You have to know, you’re not safe.”

“You think you’re in control but you’re not.”

“Really, I’m fine. You should go.”

“You know I care about you?”

“You really like that baby, huh?”

“It would be really unsettling if he actually got something right.”

“I have all my best thoughts in the bath.”

“I haven’t looked up in ten minutes.”

“Meetings have biscuits.”

“That is literally the most parenting this household has ever seen.”

“You have been unfocused and manic for days.”

“I’m just having some fun.”

“It’s not my fault he was an idiot.”

“You want to amuse yourself, go crazy.”

“I’m the one doing all the work.”

“You think handling you isn’t work?”

“You should get your act together.”

“I’m not ready!”

“Once I pop, I just can’t stop.”

“I don’t have any self-control.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Did you take this job thinking it’d be easier?”

“You really should have some kind of protection, you know that right?”

“Have you ever locked and popped, ___?”

“I want to smell powerful.”

“Pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones is how we grow.”

“I adore a coincidence, it makes me feel I’m in the right place.”

“I just had the novel experience of being stood up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have him killed.”

“A terrible lifestyle suits me, huh?”

“Do you believe a word of that?”

“This place is psychopathic.”

“I should have shot you in the head.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I’m not here for you!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who doesn’t answer their phone on a stake-out?”

“Everyone, look innocent.”

“Don’t wait for me in the dark like that!”

“Don’t you want to know why I’m in your bed?”

“They own every little bit of you.”

“What kind of baby do you think I was?”

“I’m wearing power. And to keep power, you need knowledge.”

“This is where you belong!”

“So you’re saying this is it?”

“You do realize that’s my desk?”

“What is that smell?”

“You’re supposed to share the cake!”

“You’re like a sad teenager, waiting for a like on Instagram.”

“Don’t you like having fun?”

“You don’t know what it’s like when you’ve chosen to destroy your own life.”

“I promise you, whatever you’ve done is not half as bad as the stuff in my checkered past.”

“I stabbed someone.”

“Do not think that you are the only self-loathing as whole in the room, ever.”

“Choices, ___. It’s all about choices.”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“But it’s my job to do terrible things.”

“I want you to have a plan.”

“So not over me.”

“Ah. You made me cake.”

“It really doesn’t look like the picture.”

“Wait, wait, just because it looks bad doesn’t mean it tastes bad.”

“You don’t deserve nice things if you don’t look after them.”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I gained valuable insight into Victorian gender politics.”

“You’re so close to getting what you want. But you have to play by the rules.”

“You are so annoying today.”

“I am just trying to save you from yourself!”

“You know, you really don’t have to be so dramatic.”

“This would be a really bad way to go!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be my favorite.”

“What got you in such a good mood?”

“I really hate it when you do that.”

“You’re free now. You can be whoever you want.”

“But I don’t want to be free.”

“You have the hiccups?”

“I’ve been ordered to stay away from all of this.”

“What are you doing home at this hour of the day?”

“It is a bit odd being here in the daytime, isn’t it?”

“I get up to all sorts of stuff.”

“You barely even look at me.”

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m worried about you, ___!”

“You have hat hair.”

“You said you have everything under control.”

“Not getting any, huh?”

“Did they air bnb my room again?”

“I know a killer when I see a killer and she’s a killer.”

“You were mean.”

“I beat the crap out of the sofa so I don’t beat the crap out of people.”

“You’ll have lots of fun, I promise.”

“Being strong is a choice.”

“That looks like shit.”

“You don’t want to dance?”

“Eat this. Be quiet.”

“Come on, it used to make you laugh.”

“You always laugh at things that aren’t funny.”

“You do not belong here.”

“I was not a happy person.”

“You were never a happy person.”

“You were bad from the beginning.”

“Oh, I think I need to kill you.”

“It’s so good to see your eyes.”

“Do you want to put ice on it?”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“This is the same stuff I was doing before.”

“You know that would be okay... if you’re not okay, that is.”

“Sometimes you just need to let it win.”

“You can’t watch sports without a hot dog.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Where are we going? It better be someplace hot.”

“You should run away.”

“I don’t think you really want this.”

“Don’t let them see something’s up.”

“The plan only works if nobody knows there is one.”

“Should I… trust you?”

“None of us are to be trusted, that’s why we work here.”

“Don’t be a grump.”

“Stop or I’ll scream.”

“You know how annoying it is when you have to be around two people in love?”

“You’re a real role model, you know that?”

“You don’t have to do this. I already know you are scary.”

“___, are you comparing yourself to a carrot?”

“I don’t love being here either.”

“It would be so much better if we could have this conversation after I’ve eaten.”

“To you, I am harsh and cold and, to me, you are disappointed and expectant.”

“You don’t talk to people when they are bowling.”

“You can’t beat us, you understand?”

“Oh, I’ve got to get out of here.”

“That guy was really staring at me.”

“Do you know why I love you, ___? Because you’re an agent of chaos. And I love chaos.”

“You’re a beautiful monster, ___.”

“Thank you for the inappropriate touching. It was actually pretty nice.”

“You’re a child. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“It’s just standard white person stuff.”

“Jokes are for people who do their job correctly, ___.”

“Do you ever think of anything else?”

“Heroes only get the girl in Hollywood.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Is this one of those moments we pretend never happened?”

“Look what someone just gave me. It’s a shank made out of a toothbrush.”

“Tone all this down a little. It’s too much.”

“So you’re actually leaving me here?”

“Why are you making this difficult?”

“You can’t get raided twice in a day. It’s a rule.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Germans don’t wear kilts.”

“Russia has vegans now.”

“There is no such thing as a nice surprise.”

“Just once I want to make a scene and not be told to “be quiet” or to “pull myself together” or that I’m being ridiculous!”

“What kind of person does that?”

“I hope you die.”

“He’s crying out to be killed.”

“You have lost it, haven’t you?”

“Okay, I’m gonna make myself an omelette to celebrate.”

“That random guy now wants to kill me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Wherever I go, someone wants to murder me.”

“I probably deserve it.”

“Let’s face it, ___, I’m a prick.”

“Don’t argue with me we’re celebrating.”

“You’re not really okay, are you?”

“I fear the walls may be closing in on me.”

“It’s starting to feel personal.”

“What is wrong with you?! You’re an emotional iceberg!”

“I’m not coming at you, I’m trying to hug you.”

“This isn’t healthy.”

“You can’t just refuse to feel anything for the rest of your life.”

“A little overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“Is this really necessary?”

“You’re going to die in this room.”

“We are both to blame.”

“Do you ever think about the past?”

“They seem happy. Carefree.”

“I want to feel like that.”

“Dancing’s not my thing.”

“Are you leading or am I?”

“We’d consume each other before we got old.”

“Talk me through your outfit.”

“Comfortable is what you make people with a terminal illness.”

“I was trained to look devastating.”

“You know, you almost have no sense of humor.”

“What am I supposed to do? Applaud or…?”

“What is this really about?”

“You’ve not tried to bribe someone before, have you?”

“I expected you to look more like a stripper.”

“You know your problem? You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Well, this is something new.”

“You’re going to burn for this.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“You never loved me. Not even close.”

“You can be pretty athletic when you choose.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore. Any of it.”

“You were never like them. You only thought you were.”

“When I try to think of my future I just see your face over and over again.”

“Did I ruin your life?”

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

“I think we all have monsters inside of us, it’s just that most people have managed to keep theirs hidden.”

“Help me make it stop.”

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary:  Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own  path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

=

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite  perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that  touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter​ 

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 112

Whew! Okay.  Happy last-chapter-of-Spooptober!  I hope we all made it through okay.

This chapter is dedicated to @zazen-rabbit and our pumpkin carving antics in the past. I love carving pumpkins, and this chapter is the payoff to the month-long references to enormous jack-o-lanterns.  You want to know what they look like, right? Right. And thanks, as always, to @baelpenrose for your beta-reading and input. It made this chapter so much fun to write, and it always makes writing so much more fun to have someone to bounce ideas off of in real time.

Before anyone objects, @charlylimph-blog also beta-read this chapter and gave full approval. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, even after reading the chapter, then thank you ;)

On an serious note, since this is the last chapter before the big day: if you live in the United States, go vote by November 3. Too many people have fought and died for the right to vote in the U.S. for any of us to decide not to vote.  And there are too many people in this country who have lost the right to vote for unfair, racially motivated reasons for us to dare skipping out.

At some point, the pumpkins were finally scooped completely free of seeds and stringy goop, all of which was carefully stored to be used later as ingredients.  Finally, those of us who dared were set loose with sharp objects and abject glee to start carving, in our own unofficial competition.  Conor, Maverick, and Coffee took a well earned break and drank cocoa that had manifested from somewhere probably-Charly-related.

Arthur and Grey each took on their own enormous squash, carving with various implements in complete silence.  Tyche and I, on the other hand, were tag-teaming one at a time, moving with a similar precision to when we cooked together - she would carve the bulk of the spaces, while I focused on finicky tricks of the light and filigrees. I couldn’t see Charly over her pumpkin, but she was suspiciously quiet and I could see Simon eyeing her with worry.

Two hours later, I was seriously concerned with how anyone was carving these on their own.  My hands and shoulders were cramped into knots, and I had help. A soft tune was drifting over from Charly, who was apparently humming while she just kept carving away.  Tyche had very, very carefully climbed/been lifted out of the first pumpkin and was working on the second one.  Grey and Simon looked finished, while Arthur was studying his with a very serious expression that confused the hell out of me.

Especially considering that this side of his jack-o-lantern was untouched. Curious….

Eventually, I was done and trying to shake and massage feeling back into my fingers.  Charly was still going, but spoke as she saw me stand up. “Almost done!” she promised, one hand bracing herself and the other carefully cutting away a few final bits.  I shook my head with a laugh and wandered back over to our ‘fire’.  Before we started our carving, we promised that each person who finished had to wait and face away from any pumpkin but their own, and everyone looked like they had kept their word.  As tired as I was, I was nearly twitching to see what everyone else had done.

Finally, finally Charly came bouncing over and didn’t even bother sitting down while we all stood and turned to look at the finished products.

I had just enough time to take in Simon’s - surprisingly, a werewolf-Riding-Hood howling at the moon from a cliff - when Arthur started swearing. “Are you fucking serious, Reids?”

I smothered a grin and turned, doing my best impression of Charly’s most innocent face. “What?”

“They’re…lace…” Grey answered, much more calmly. “All the way around… You two turned them into… lace.”

“A bit sturdier than that,” Tyche corrected.  “But, yeah.”

Bravely, Simon ran a hand over the closest one. “There’s actually more here than you think,” he pointed out, almost confused. “Some of this isn’t cut all the way through.”

“Nope,” I grinned. “That’s how you get different shading.  Some of it is solid, just really thin.”

Grey nodded in understanding and I soon saw why: they had carved an optical illusion for their lantern.  When standing on one side, it was a beautiful young woman. But look at it from the other side - 

“Holy rabies, it’s The Phantom of the Opera,” Paden half gasped, half squealed.

“And Christine Daae, yes,” they smiled slightly. “I never was allowed to carved these when I was a child, so it became my favorite thing each year after I left my parents’ home.”

Charly let out a low whistle. “That is some serious carving skill.”

“Let’s see yours,” Simon turned eagerly, followed quickly by the rest of us.

Not to be outdone, Charly had carved an entire flower garden full of butterflies, birds, and fairies.  There was even a….

Oh. Oh hell no. 

Before I could stop myself, I let out an ear-piercing shriek and turned to run.  Conor and Maverick, confused as they were, quickly caught me and held me despite my struggles.  I was sobbing hysterically when I heard Charly’s voice speaking in a confused tone, although I could not make out the words.  Soon, I felt a small, familiar hand on my elbow.

“Sophia, it’s just a carving of a bunny,” Tyche explained slowly. “It’s not even real.” A brief pause. “Oh, you two better not say a damned thing, I mean it. She’ll explain later, she just needs to calm down.”

Arthur’s voice trailed in. “I knew about the bunnies, but I have some serious questions later.”

“Oh, noooo…” Charly practically shouted in what I could now realize was an entirely insincere tone, followed by a wet thud. “Simon tripped and kicked my pumpkinnnnn… the rabbit is now a rock…”

“But I didn’t - “

“If you don’t shut the fuck up,” she hissed. “I had no idea about the rabbits.”

“I really hope no one is afraid of aliens or werewolves,” Simon sighed wearily. “Especially… Charly are they making out?”

“Yep!”

“Seriously you two,” Tyche sounded like she turned away. “That’s not even remotely…. A�� Joke, apparently? You actually carved that...”  She shook my elbow. “Sophia. Seriously. Alien making out with werewolf.”

I had calmed down just enough that my curiosity was peaked.  Slowly, I turned away from Conor and Maverick and back to the Pumpkin of Lapine Doom.  Sure enough, there was a hole where the rabbit had been, and as I followed around to what everyone was staring at… Yep. Alien. Werewolf. Kissing.

“Huh.” I was actually shocked out of any remaining anxiety I had. “That’s pretty cool, actually.”

“At this point, I feel like mine is rather anticlimactic,” Arthur sighed as dramatically as I had ever heard him - which wasn’t much, but it was at least noticeable. “There is no murderous mammal, or filigree lantern, or optical illusion.” Without further words, he flung his hands toward his lantern in a ta-da gesture.

“Oh, wow,” I whispered, echoed by nearly everyone. 

Instead of any tricks or intricate patterns, his pumpkin was a straightforward, three foot tall face.  A cross between a skeleton and a smile, it was eerily familiar.  The eyes were enormous - easily half the entire face - and just wide and empty spaces.  Two vertical lines made up the nose, while the mouth curled up and around cartoonishly until the corners stretched beyond the outside edges of the eyes.

“It’s Jack Skellington,” Tyche said, doubtfully. “From that really old movie.  But… something is different. I can’t put my finger on it.”

It was Conor who figured it out first. Leaning over, he tapped gently where the cheeks would be on the face. “These symbols.  I don’t think they were there originally.”  Sure enough, both ‘cheeks’ were covered in geometric patterns. 

“They look Terran Muslim,” Grey guessed.

Arthur shook his head, however. “Celtic, but I can honestly say you weren’t as off base as it sounds. Muslim art uses a lot more intricate geometry, though.” Clearing his throat, he stared through the pumpkin. “One of my students, Before, used to make a jack-o-lantern like this every year. When I decided to carve one, I figured… hell, why not?”

After a moment of silence, it was Simon who finally threw his hands up in the air. “Oh, nothing special he says… anticlimactic he says… Let me just show up lace, and illusions, and smooching cryptids by casually carving a memorial to a student. No big deal….”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Simon dangerously, prompting me to step in between them. Before I could say anything though, Arthur shrugged the comment off. “Why not? We’ve decided it’s October, so it would be the time of year for ghosts, and Halloween was always her favorite holiday. I know at least a few of my former students are somewhere on board the Ark, and we all carry her spirit with us.”

“You come pre-haunted,” Tyche nodded seriously.  Somehow, it didn’t sound that ridiculous.

After all, weren’t we all?

<< Prev   Masterlist  Next >>

[emeraldtawny]

Satan x Fem!MC: A Foreign Heat

...I started this like 4 months ago and have only now just finished it oTL I hope you enjoy this 10k slow burn, friends-to-lovers style fic because wow this boi deserves soft love ;;w;;

This is also up on AO3 right here if you wished to leave kudos or the like uwu

Anyways, hope you enjoy~ :3

~

Rage is not a foreign concept to Satan; if it was, it would leave his title as the Avatar of Wrath quite redundant. That heat that flares up inside of him, that suffocating, clawing anger that makes his teeth clench and his blood boil, is such a familiar sensation to him that it feels wrong when that flame dwindles. Suffice it to say, being consumed by the flames of rage is what Satan is used to. It’s what he knows.

So when that flame wavers, he’s almost at a loss. 

He remembers his first impression of her. She was, well, nothing special. Maybe an occasional aid to his boredom if she was near. He didn’t spare her any more of his thoughts than necessary, because he didn’t deem her worthy enough of his attention. He scowls at himself whenever he remembers that thought process, that mightier-than-thou mentality reminding him of a certain demon that shall not be named.

He’s glad that he thinks differently now. He’s glad that he gave this human girl a chance to prove herself. Because now, he thinks that he quite enjoys her company.

… Yes, he quite likes it.

“Satan?” 

He’s pulled from his reverie of the past and back into the present, the very focus of his thoughts sitting beside him. Her head tilted quizzically and her eyes trained on him, she waits patiently for him to respond. When he focuses his attention on her, she sighs out her query. 

“I’m having a bit of trouble with this passage. I don’t understand what it’s asking of me.”

He feels the corner of his lips quirk up at the perplexion on her face, seemingly enjoying her mild distress for the upcoming exam on Applied Magic. He sets his own book down and leans closer to read over her shoulder.

“Ah, Incantations and Curses. I can’t say I’m surprised this is tripping you up.”

She taps the side of her pen against her textbook, her lips pressing together and out into a pout. He has to school his features to keep himself from grinning at her endearing display of dismay, his eyes pretending to scan over the book while his peripherals work to keep her in his sights.

“This isn’t a normal thing to learn in the Human World, yet they teach it to us like it’s common knowledge.” She sees his lips begin to move to rebut her, but she beats him to the mark, “I know it’s common knowledge here in the Devildom, but that just makes it so unfair for those unfamiliar with magic.”

A huffed laugh escapes Satan’s nose as a puff of air. “Unfortunately for you, ‘those unfamiliar with magic’ constitutes only humans. Are you that determined to learn?”

He meets her undivided gaze, completely forgetting of their close proximity and is only viciously reminded of the fact by how clearly he sees himself reflected in her eyes. He catches the subtle widening of his eyes in his reflection, but nothing more. Sitting before a demon, this human simply smiles.

“I am if you’re the one teaching me.”

He blinks, forgetting his prized vocabulary for a moment as he loses himself in her earnest gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he would believe she was mocking him with her kindness. But he knew of her genuineness and he knew not to dismiss it so quickly. He leans back in his seat, clearing his throat simultaneously to fill the silence and to restart his brain.

“I guess we can arrange a study session if you think it will help.”

Her smile directed at him grows, her eyes lighting up and, for just a moment, Satan swears that the warmth coursing through his body feels... different. His attempt to follow that train of thought is cut off by her D.D.D. buzzing once, twice, thrice, to tell her she has a text.

She hesitates, casting a look his way to gain permission. He sighs in response.

“Mammon?”

She checks her phone quickly. “Levi. New expansion in Mononoke Land.”

He doesn’t seem to realise that he’s smiling as he says, “I suppose we’ve done enough studying for one day.”

She instantly relaxes, “Thanks. I’ll message you later about that pre-test study session.”

“I look forward to it.”

Grinning at his words, she begins to pack away her things. All the while, Satan finds himself unable to look away from her, a slight frown marring his lips.

The questions swimming through his mind irk him; why does her smile make him lose his words so successfully? And, more curiously, why does he want her to smile if that’s the effect it has on him? He found it bizarre.

The quick tap of a pen against the desk brings him back once again and he blinks up at her face, thankfully with a little more distance between them to keep his thoughts grounded.

“What?”

“Are you alright? You seem a bit spaced out.”

This troublesome human, only vigilant when she shouldn’t be, Satan thinks to himself dryly.

He smiles his usual smile, about as real as Mammon’s financial independence. “Same as always. Tired from reading, most likely.” he lies effortlessly.

“If you’re sure…” She hesitates before gracing him with a shy smile, one he can’t quite pinpoint the message beneath, “I’ll see you later, then.”

With a tiny wave, she readjusts the bag on her shoulder, lifts her phone to her ear and heads off, and Satan can’t help rolling his eyes sympathetically at her unhurried “okay, okay” as she no doubt addresses Levi through her phone. 

Alone and without distraction, his thoughts should return to him again, unbidden. And they do, but only of her. 

His fingernail connects with the wood of the desk as he taps his finger against it, his eyebrows pinched together and his lips opening to release a sigh into the air around him.

Even the book beneath him cannot distract him from the prospect of when he’ll next see her.

~

Days went by and things remained the same. It was exam period at the Academy, so Satan concludes that must be what has him so on edge… despite all previous years going smoothly and without incident. And also being aware that these feelings started shortly after she had arrived. 

He shakes his head at the thought.

No, that IS the reason why I can’t focus as well as usual. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing else.

He was certain that if he was an outsider looking in on his situation, he would be snickering at himself, baffled at how desperate he is to ignore the elephant in the room. He lets a silent sigh exhale through his nostrils - his fifth one of the evening - and returns to flipping through his latest novella, his dinner going untouched. He hardly flinches at the doors of the dining room bursting open and the loud voices accompanying it; sounds he has long since learned to block out.

“Whad’ya just say to me, huh?! Say it again, I dare ya!”

“I’ll say it however many times I have to to get the message through your thick skull: absolutely NOT!”

“C’moooon! It’s quick and easy cash! You’ll be rollin’ in dough faster than you can say ‘Wow, Mammon! I knew you were right!’. It’ll be too good to be true!”

“Usually when things are too good to be true, it’s because they are.” Satan pipes up, not even bothering to glance at another one of his brothers’ infinite arguments.

“Thank you, Satan. Finally, a voice of REASON in this room!” Asmodeus sighs, the sound both forlorn and dramatic. “I swear, such gorgeous bronze skin loses its charm when the person who wears it has about as many brain cells as my pinky finger.”

“Gr...Yeah, well! … Shut up!!” 

The chair scrapes loudly against the floor as it’s forcefully pulled out to seat the exasperated Avatar of Greed, his grumbles unintelligible as he reaches across the table to pile his plate high with food. Another chair is pulled back from the table - much more delicately - as Asmo grabs his own food. After a moment, he hums in thought.

“Where’s ___? I thought she was in charge of cooking dinner tonight.”

“She said that she wanted to study more for the upcoming exams, so she left as soon as she finished cooking.” Satan flips another page of his book as he replies, all of his conscious efforts focused on remaining flippant in his demeanour.

“Awww, our little human is awfully diligent, isn’t she? But that means I don’t get to see her adorable little face over dinner. She’d be much more delicious than this, I’m sure.”

Satan didn’t need to look at his brother to know he was smirking, his eyes likely alight with whatever lustful fantasy he was conjuring up and acting out in his mind. 

He’d hardly ever bat an eye at it. But now? Now, a sudden swell of fire pumps through his blood and makes his lips twitch in distaste.

“Not while I’m eating, Asmo!” Mammon somehow manages to muffle out around a mouthful of food, “Show some class, why don’t cha?”

His remark provokes an apathetic blink and an unenthused stare from Asmo. “You are the last person in the universe who is allowed to lecture me on class. Besides, don’t act innocent. I know that you’ve thought about her that way.”

That causes Mammon to swallow mid-chew, sending him into a coughing fit as he desperately beats at his chest to dislodge the choking hazard. He swallows again and gasps for air unnecessarily loud.

“Y-you can’t just say shit like that while I’m swallowing my damn food, y’know!”

“You’re not denying it, hm?” Asmo rests his elbow on the table and cradles his chin in his palm, grinning at his older brother squirming under his gaze.

“Of course n--NAH! I’d never think of a… a HUMAN like that! Nuh-uh! No way!”

Satan feels his fingers tightening around the book in his hands, his eyes practically burning through the page yet not reading a single letter printed onto the paper.

“But, why not? She’s such a beautiful young woman. Any man, or demon, would have to be blind or completely ignorant to not see what a sexy little thing she is~”

Words no longer process in Satan’s mind, the only sound in his head a high-pitched scream from a kettle way past its boiling point. He barely registers how tightly he exudes pressure on the book he holds, nor does he notice how he’s one lip twitch away from snarling in carnal rage. 

What he does register, however, is the distinct sound of paper ripping. As do his brothers.

He crashes abruptly back into reality, the sight of Mammon’s and Asmo’s astonished faces greeting him. Dazed confusion turns into speechlessness when he turns his eyes down to where they’re looking. His novella, previously in peak condition, now sits split neatly in two, the spine of the book ripped perfectly down the middle and each half held tightly in Satan’s hands.

No one says a word, each demon brother parroting the other with their wide-eyed stares and inability to speak. Until the doors swing open to shatter the silence.

“Man, I’m hungry…”

Oblivious to what he just walked into, Beel walks up and grabs the entire plate in the centre of the table, bringing it in front of him as he takes his seat. Satan rises to his feet just as Beel gets off of his.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Hm? Alright. Are you going to eat your plate?”

He leaves without answering, his footsteps quick yet levelled as he flees the scene, the evidence of his lost control still held tightly in both hands. 

Two demons speechless, one demon oblivious, and the other acutely aware that he can’t ignore this any longer.

~

                     ___: Satan? 

                    ___: Satan, please answer me

                    ___: ...Just a sticker or something 

                    ___: Anything? 

He reads each bubble popping up on his lock screen, but makes no attempt to reply. Leaning back against one of the multiple bookshelves in his bedroom, Satan has long since given up on the mystery novel in front of him, his phone now sitting between the pages as his new reading material.

The device vibrates again and another message comes through.

                    ___: If you’re busy, I understand. But can you let me know if we’re still okay to study together?

That’s right, he muses to himself, she wanted my help. 

With a heavy inward sigh, he sits up straighter and grabs his phone, swiping it open and tapping through to send a reply.

                    Satan: Busy. Ask the others.

As much as I want to, I don’t think I should see you right now.

Instant regret plagues him as soon as he hits send, his stomach shrinking and dropping like a stone in water, sending ripples of guilt and unease through him. He drops his phone carelessly to the side and glares up at the light fixing like it will somehow burn away these alien feelings within him.

Yet through the guilt of letting her down, he’s angry. Angry at himself for letting this happen, for not seeing this coming until it was too late. 

A powerless, frail little human did this to him? The devil on Satan’s shoulder laughs at his pitiful state; oh, the irony.

“What a mess…” He sighs out into the empty room, the literature his only audience. He looks down at his D.D.D., its screen black and lifeless and he curses himself for holding out hope that she’d even reply to him.

So when the screen lights up and dances along to its ringtone, her name dead centre, he almost smacks his head back against the bookshelf with how quickly he straightens up. He grabs his phone and stares at the screen, his mind running so fast that the vibrations from his phone feel numb in his hand.

I shouldn’t answer… I really shouldn’t.

Her expression from their last study session materialises in his mind’s eye, that sweet, shy smile he hopes that she only shows to him. He clenches his phone tight in his palm and, with a frustrated inhale and an equally frustrated exhale, he accepts the call.

“... H-hello.”

Damn his voice for faltering.

“No.”

He blinks at the assertive punch behind that single syllable.

“Um, what?”

“No, I won’t ask the others. Because right now, I’m more worried about a certain demon that has apparently shut himself in his room without explanation.”

Satan sighs in quiet annoyance and judging by the soft sigh from her end, he didn’t mask it well enough. “I’m just studying. It’s nothing for you to be concerned over.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And I judge that you are very obviously lying.”

He props his knee up and lets his free arm rest on it whilst the hand that holds his phone taps its index finger against the device, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Exhibit A: You’ve been acting weird lately. And it’s not because exams are coming up.”

“Your proof?” he counters.

“I asked your brothers about your behavioural patterns around stressful school-related events, which would include exam and test periods. Every single one said that you don’t act how you’re acting right now. And if six of your brothers isn’t enough proof, I got similar responses from the likes of Barbatos and Diavolo.”

The assurance behind her words gives him pause, himself not expecting to be caught so cleanly in his lie.

“Exhibit B:” she continues, “What’s this about you ripping a book in half at dinner?”

His eyebrow twitches, as do the fingers around his phone.

“Who told you?” He doesn’t mean to come across as hostile as he does. Thankfully, she brushes it off without taking offence.

“Mammon. He was telling everyone how you ‘lost the plot’.”

“Hehehe.” The grin that accompanies his laugh is anything but jovial, “I’m going to have a LOT of fun hunting him down for that.”

Her sigh wrought with worry pulls Satan back from the brink of his sadism. He pictures what expression she’d be making right this second; her eyebrows likely pulled taut, a slight crinkle above her nose its byproduct. Maybe she’s biting her lip the same way she does when she’s fretting over the simplest of things; the thought that she’d be that concerned for him touched him, though he would seldom admit it so quickly.

“And finally, Exhibit C: … me.”

“Y-you...?” He barely recognises his voice with how unsurely it leaves his lips.

“You really think you can pull the wool over my eyes that easily? I may be a human, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

Satan’s nose scrunches up with his confused frown and he bites back, despite himself. “What makes you so sure that something’s wrong with me? You don’t know what I’m thinking, so don’t pretend like you do.”

“I’m not pretending to know, I’m asking you to tell me. And of course I’d notice when something’s wrong with you. I-”

She stops, her breath hitching slightly as she kills the words she was about to utter. She sighs again, a sigh of exasperation.

“Just let me be worried over someone I care about, okay?”

Silence. Her words play in Satan’s mind again despite him just hearing them, seemingly in disbelief.

The suffocating heat of rage, its smoke clawing at his lungs and its flames boiling his blood, is displaced by a calmer, more mellow warmth, akin to a bath run just a tad too hot; warm enough to lose yourself in the feeling, but hot enough to pool your skin in sweat and linger through your body.

Is she feeling this, too? This heat - a cold respite compared to the heat Satan is used to - that’s somehow both addicting yet stifling. It leaves him unsure of whether to draw near or pull away. The only thing he’s sure of is how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

A laugh. His laugh. Short and punctuated, yet relieving of the weight bearing down on his shoulders in an instant.

“Satan?” she calls out in worry.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I just… realised how childish I was being. I’m sorry for speaking to you in that manner. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I deserve a little bit of it for prying. I was just worried. But, you seem better already, so I’m glad.”

Her smile translates so purely through her words that it’s only natural for Satan’s lips to curl upward as well.

“You really didn’t give me any room to argue, did you? That was cruel.”

“I learned from the best, and from his mystery novel and crime show recommendations.”

They both chuckle softly at that, both of their hearts aching in relief to be back in their normal routine. After a pause, she speaks again, her concern clear.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You know I’m here to talk to whenever you need, right?”

His smile twitches slightly, the bittersweet irony threatening to ruin the calm around them.

Kinda hard to talk to you about it when you’re the cause of all of this...

“Yeah, I’m fine. But if I’m ever not, I’ll tell you.”

I’ll tell you that you’re why I’m acting like this. But only when I can find the right words.

Until that moment comes, Satan sits contently as he talks with her, the warmth surrounding him ebbing and flowing like the waves of a tide.

~

“Well? Come on, don’t leave us suspended in, uh… suspense! How’d ya go?”

“Hopefully better than you in a basic understanding of the English language LMAOOO.”

“Says the nerd who speaks in text! Can it, Levi!”

“I’m curious, too.”

“Mmm, mmpf ammff mmmmpff.”

“Beel said he wants to know how you went, too.”

“Well, ___? Don’t keep us all waiting.”

Six of the brothers lean in close, waiting with trepidation for her next words. The one brother yet to speak simply stares expectantly at her, his hand in a fist and pressing his green thumbnail against his lips, his normally indifferent demeanour abnormally showcasing of his own anticipation.

She meets each of their gazes individually before looking to her feet and wringing her hands together. Asmo’s face falls, while both Lucifer and Satan’s expressions harden, expecting the worst. The others simply wait, not willing to believe her signals.

And, sure enough, she raises her head with gusto and breaks out into a triumphant grin.

“Nailed it! Top 10 in every exam!”

What wonderful hype-demons she has, their cheers filling the air and perfectly illustrating her own glee. Asmo places his hand over his heart with a heavy breath, as if it was about to give out.

“You sneaky little-! You can’t toy with us like that, ___. We were all worried about you!”

She sends a grin his way, currently preoccupied with accepting endless high-fives from Mammon and a back hug from Beel, “Guess I couldn’t help myself.”

She yelps and laughs as Beel’s hug lifts her off the ground with a spin, Levi and Belphie pulling her free only to entrap her in a congratulatory hug themselves. Away from the fray, Lucifer hums out a short laugh, his arms crossed in their usual fashion.

“I suppose your little prank can be forgiven for this occasion. You did well, ___.”

Gently pulling herself free from her hug sandwich, she smiles in thanks at Lucifer, but her eyes pull her to look at the demon beside him. His fist still covering his chin, he looks as if he’s still processing the information, responseless to everything else. 

She steps closer to him. No response. 

Another step. He blinks, his eyes locking on her.

That’s all the indication she needs and she springs forward to close the last bit of distance between them, wrapping her arms around Satan’s waist in a tight hug. She giggles at the shocked little “ah” that leaves his lips unfacilitated, and desperately attempts to hold back another at the way he clears his throat pretending that didn’t just happen. His hands move to her shoulders and, for a moment, she expects him to throw her off. But his arms circle around her back instead, his hands cupping her shoulders as he returns the hug, albeit a little stiffly. She smiles into his chest, thankful for a place to hide her face.

“Thank you, Satan. You’re the reason I did so well.”

He murmurs a response, his words a mixture of perplexion and embarrassment, “I didn’t do anything except some extra tutoring.”

“But so much of what we studied was on the exam, so I’m saying it was because of you. Accept it.” she counters, punctuating her words with a squeeze.

Just before the heat overwhelming Satan breaks to the surface and threatens to consume him--

“OI, SATAN! What’s the big idea, takin’ her all for yourself?!”

She stiffens in realisation at Mammon’s shout and quickly untangles herself from him. Satan picks up on the subtle blush blossoming over her cheeks and the way he feels a sense of loss at the warmth she was giving him. That lost warmth is quickly replaced by the fire he has long since grown accustomed to, the demon striking the match this occasion - and on many MANY occasions - being Mammon.

“If you’ll recall, Mammon, she hugged me. I didn’t ‘steal’ anything if she gave it willingly.”

“Ohhhh no! You DEFINITELY stole her! And no one steals property away from THE Great Mammon! I was her first! So I naturally deserve her first, and longest, hugs!”

“Is that so?”

Mammon gulps at the chilling edge to his younger brother’s voice, only emphasised by the smile on his lips, one of murder disguised as a summer’s day. The casual clothes adorning his body dissolve as he moves towards Mammon, replacing the mellow blues and yellows with black and neon green, the tip of his tail uncoiling from around his leg to direct its pointed tip at Mammon. All the while his smile never wavering.

“Speaking of people deserving things, there was an incident that I never talked about with you. I think now’s the perfect time to go over it.”

“I-I don’t thi-GUWWAAAAAH! Le-le-let go! Don’t mess up my hai-RAAAOWOWOWOWOW!!!!”

The rest watch - some with expressions of “serves you right”, others with exasperation, but none of them surprised - as Satan drags Mammon away by his hair.

“While we wait for that to calm down,” Lucifer interjects amidst Mammon’s wailing, “How about we celebrate your accomplishment?”

“Celebrate?” she blinks curiously.

“We prepared a party for you. Whether you succeeded or not, we were gonna party regardless. We’re glad that it’s going to be a nice party, though.” Belphie smiles.

“Simeon and Luke helped us cook up a lot of food. And I held myself back, just for you.” Beel chimes in.

“Yet you still ate two-thirds of the table...” Asmo sighs out.

“Let’s get this started so it can end faster. I picked up a new game from Akuzon and I’ve got my entire night planned out to the second, as long as this all ends by twenty-two hundred hours.”

Levi maneuvers himself behind her and presses his hands against her back to push her hastily towards the party, the rest following close behind. However, she can’t help but turn her head back to where Satan dragged his brother away, a smile creeping onto her lips as she remembers how he stiffened in her arms and hugged her with more tenderness than anyone can imagine a demon could muster. As the party kicks into high gear, she waits patiently for the one who will truly start the party for her.

…

A room almost completely trashed, enough food to be classified as its own country consumed (mainly by one demon), and the promise of headaches that will persist through all of tomorrow…

“I’d say that party was a rousing success!” Asmo announces, looking oddly pleased from his position sprawled over Levi’s lap, the latter too busy playing on his Ninterrordo Switch to notice.

“It was a success at creating the biggest mess yet.” Lucifer sighs, his headache already beginning, “Mammon, you’ll be cleaning up this entire room.”

“Wha-?! Why just me? Beel almost caused a food avalanche and Satan punched a hole in the wall! They should hafta help me!”

“I ate all of the food that fell off the table. So I’ve already cleaned up.”

“And the hole Satan made was made by YOUR head, so it’s more your fault for being an idiot and blabbing about the book incident.”

Mammon seethes silently at Beel’s and Asmo’s immediate shutdowns to his points. He looks around the room, suddenly confused.

“Speaking of, where is Satan?”

“He’s… currently compromised.” Asmo smirks.

At Mammon’s eyebrow raise, he points his finger to the side and everyone turns to look. Leaning against the wall with his legs crossed, Satan stares down at his phone in an obvious attempt at distraction. But his eyes keep darting to his side, incredibly conscious of the weight of a human head on his shoulder, using him for comfort as she breathes evenly in peaceful sleep.

“WHAT THE F--mmM! MMmmmMMM?!?!?!”

Mammon’s shout is cut off by Belphie’s pillow careening into his face with enough force to smack his head against the floor. He sighs as he smothers his brother’s all-too-enthusiastic shouts.

“She’s asleep. Keep it down.”

“If his shouts won’t wake her up, this putrid smell of normie jealousy will. Stupid Mammon.”

“I can hear everything you’re saying, you know.” Satan’s voice rings out, the annoyance behind his words clear. With a sigh, he pockets his phone and shifts as gently as he can to move her.

“What are you doing, Satan?”

He leaves Lucifer’s question hanging in the air, more preoccupied with slipping his arms around her upper back and under her knees to cradle her against him. After moving to his knees and then to his feet, he turns to face his brothers with her in his arms.

“Taking her to her room. I thought I could wait until she woke up naturally, but if you’re all going to keep making this much noise…”

“You don’t need to glare at us.” Asmo laughs, “She’s obviously tired from all that studying and partying. Just make sure you put her to bed like a good boy~”

Not even humouring him with a response, Satan leaves the room, acutely aware of his smirk following him out. 

His footsteps seem to echo as he trudges through the hallway, the portraits ever vigilant and watching. Her soft breaths draw his focus, her head tucked in and resting against his chest. A smile creeps onto his lips at the way her curled fingers flex and relax against her chest, almost like a cat kneading its paws. He knows he shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t be watching someone sleep. But his eyes had drifted to her face before he could stop himself and there they now stay, his feet on autopilot as he makes his way to her room.

He readjusts his hold on her, eliciting a soft mumble. Satan stops, afraid that he woke her. She shifts slightly, nuzzling into his chest and resting her head against his collarbone, a breathy sigh ghosting from her lips. He shudders, his fingers tightening against her thigh on impulse, and he’s suddenly extremely thankful for his high-necked shirt, unsure of how he would have handled her breath against his bare skin. Satan scowls and hastens his pace, desperate to leave those rogue thoughts behind and get her out of his arms as soon as physically possible.

The door opens with a soft creak and he shoulders her through into her bedroom. He tuts softly at her leaving her tableside lamp on but smiles at the open book on her bed. A quick skim of the contents confirms it as one of the books he lent to her, his heart fluttering in his chest at the fact.

The bed creaks under their combined weight as he sits on its edge, his previous thoughts of putting her down as soon as possible now no louder than a whisper to his conscience. The weight of her against his legs and in his arms, the calming warmth emanating from her that leaves him oddly restless for more, the way her eyelashes flutter softly in her sleep; suddenly, all Satan wishes for is this moment to last longer than he knows it should.

Freeing his hand from underneath her legs, he rests it atop her knee and stares down at her face, her head still resting against his chest. He can feel a heat creeping onto his face - the same heat from when she hugged him and thanked him so earnestly - yet he can’t find it in himself to dislike the feeling. Hesitantly, he moves his hand and cups her cheek, his fingers and palm moulding to the shape of her face like this is where they belong.

“So warm…”

Mystified and unaware he released his inner thoughts into the open, Satan studies her face while his hand basks in her addictive warmth, his thumb greedy for more as it traces the contour of her cheekbone with the same gentle care of flipping a page. Her shoulders roll back and she leans further into his touch, turning her face into his hand. Satan stiffens at her lips brushing against his thumb, but the happy hum and subsequent deep breath she releases against his skin freeze him in place before he can pull away. 

He was right. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle her breath against his exposed skin.

With a thick swallow, he entertains pressing his thumb into her bottom lip. How it gives way to him so easily is fascinating and he doesn’t know if his thumb is shaking from fear of her waking up and him having to explain what he was doing, or the giddying thrill of chasing this warmth now pooling rapidly within him and begging for more. 

Satan’s breath leaves him stuttered, his eyes following the path his thumb paves over her bottom lip, so soft and so malleable to his touch. He can’t break his gaze away, afraid of the spell shattering and dragging him by the scruff back to reality if he did. He doesn’t want this to end. Just this once, he could indulge himself - he could give in to the feeling instead of fighting it, propriety be damned. All he wants at this moment is to study her lips; what they feel like, how they move, how hot they can grow, how they taste, how…

How they… taste. How… they… 

Taste.

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, and only vaguely registers his fluttering lashes as he opens them again. But the rush of heat cascading over him and pulling him under like a riptide yanks him back to the path of reason. 

Heat bordering on scalding centres at his lips and sends pulses of heat to singe through his entire body. And at its epicentre is her lips, brushing ever so softly against his own.

The yelp that leaves Satan is strangled and confused and he jerks back, suddenly unconcerned over if he wakes her or not. He deposits her onto the bed, almost destroys the switch on the lamp turning it off and makes a break for the door. He curses his hearing for registering a soft mumble from her while he flees, as if taunting him further when she has already taken over the better part of his thoughts. 

Leaning against the closed door, Satan stands stock still, feebly attempting to process what just occurred. How did he even get that close to her? He remembers being entranced by her lips, their softness, their feeling, wanting to taste them…  

He stops before he falls too far back into his thoughts. He’s too hot - his face, his body, his… something that Asmo would be proud of. His blood is boiling for an entirely different reason other than anger. With only the paintings on the walls as his witnesses, he returns to his room on unstable legs, convincing himself that if he sleeps now, everything that happened will be nothing more than a dream.

~

Satan knows better than to repeat the same mistake twice. And he doesn’t plan on doing so. Even with every fibre of his being begging him to save face and strategically disappear until it all dies down, he knows it’s not that simple. Plus, he doesn’t want to avoid her again.

That doesn’t make this walk to the dining hall for breakfast any less daunting. His meandering pace screams hesitance, but he continues to walk forward in the hopes that each step will be easier than the last. It’s not.

He grabs the handle to the door and pushes it open before his brain has a chance to interject, his own pride too great to make him act so cowardly. However, as he steps into the dining hall, Satan is surprised to find it mostly empty. Only one other person sits idly at the long dining table, their elbows resting on the table and their fingers tented with their chin resting atop them, a small, sly grin on their lips greeting Satan as he enters.

“Hello, my dear big brother. Nice of you to join me. I was almost afraid that you’d stood me up.”

A hand on his hip and his lips pressed together with discontent, he replies, “What are you doing, Asmo?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Just wanted to have a little heart-to-heart.”

“About?”

“Don’t play dumb, Satan. You know what about.”

He stiffens slightly at the quietly admonishing tone behind Asmodeus’ words. With a sigh, he shuts the door behind him and moves to take his usual seat at the table. The two sit in silence for a moment, Satan’s eyes glued to the table and unable to meet Asmodeus’ inquiring gaze. Then, a bubbly chuckle dispels the serious air, even when Satan lifts his eyes to glare at the offender.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I just find it quite ironic,” Asmo leans in further, his smile widening, “I never thought I’d be sitting here consoling YOU. Maybe the sun will rise in the Devildom tomorrow.”

Satan returns his gaze to the table, his finger tapping against the wood in a purposefully steady pattern.

“Alright, alright.” Asmo sighs, “Joking aside, we’ve all been a bit worried about you recently, one of us especially so.”

The twitch of Satan’s finger against the table urges Asmodeus forward.

“A certain little sweetheart of a human asked us to make sure our dumb brother was taking care of himself. All of that pure warmth and concern of hers going completely to waste…”

His eyebrows furrow, but he says nothing. Asmodeus continues.

“It’s almost like she genuinely cares about him and wants the best for him. Of course, she could just be doing it out of the kindness in her heart, but she seems awfully insistent on spending more time with him than the others. Poor Levi has been throwing himself into his games even more than usual to fight back the envy he feels over that fact.”

“Is that so?”

Asmo shifts to rest his cheek on one palm, his head tilted quizzically and sighing with almost convincing perplexion. He sneaks a glance at Satan, aware of the demon fighting back a smile.

“She’s even been turning me down. ME! And I’m clearly the most beautiful demon in all of the Devildom! She must have bizarre tastes to go after a demon who rips a book in half because his brother says she’s gorgeous, and who ignores her for days because he doesn’t know how to act in front of her.”

His tongue tied, Satan can only convey his guilt and annoyance through his eyes and actions. And Asmodeus registers every single one. Dropping his hand from his chin, he clasps his hands together and leans forward onto his forearms, prompting Satan to meet his oddly serious gaze. Jewels of amber and jade pool together as their eyes meet, the less powerful demon’s gaze oddly paternal and wise compared to his usual self.

“But love and lust do that to people. It makes them do stupid things and makes them fall for stupid people.”

“...”

“Not going to deny it?”

A bitter chuckle, “I don’t have it in me to.”

“Because you have no rebuttal, right?”

Satan’s strained smile wavers slightly. He turns his head down to the table with a cynical, self-deprecating laugh before willing himself to meet Asmodeus’ eye again. “If you had tried to tell me this not even a day ago, I wouldn’t have listened to you. I would have entertained the thought, but never would have admitted it out loud...”

“You still haven’t, you know~” Asmo says with a coy bat of his eyelashes.

“Don’t push your luck.”

A short pause before the two demons let out their soft laughter, alleviating the serious atmosphere. A welcome calm for the whirlwind of Satan’s thoughts, if only briefly.

Love… It IS love that I’m feeling. Heh, I think… I could get used to this feeling.

“Soooo?” Asmodeus inquires, his eyes lighting up as they narrow gleefully, “When did you start falling for our dear little ___?”

“You’re the Avatar of Lust. You tell me.”

The level-headedness of Satan’s response draws a pout to Asmo’s lips. “But I wanna know straight from the source! Unless that means I have to ask her for the details. With enough… persuasion, I’m sure I can get her to tell me anything.”

A wide grin splits Satan’s lips. “Sounds like someone wants their head immortalised in the wall just like Mammon.”

The Avatar of Lust raises his hands up in mock surrender, yet his eyes are peaked with intrigue. 

“I jest, I jest! But wow, you really can’t take a joke when it comes to her, can you?” He tucks a loose strand of his hair back into place and leans in with a smirk, “You’ve got it baaaad. You’re so in loooooove~”

The serene smile on Satan’s face belies the horns growing and curling out of his head, the aura surrounding him dense, like a black hole of barely suppressed rage. Asmo raises his hands again in innocence, movements more stilted and frantic than before.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop, I’ll stop. Just-“ he taps a finger against one of the obsidian horns as he stands from his seat, “-put those away and do NOT push my face into a wall! You will not ruin the very thing that makes me beautiful, or you will have hoards of succubi coming after you!”

His horns retract with a roll of his eyes, his gaze trained on Asmo as the Avatar of Lust moves towards the door. Satan’s eyebrow raises.

“That’s it?”

Asmo stops, tilting his head back to his brother without fully turning to face him, “What? Were you expecting the ‘a demon should never fall in love with a human’ lecture? I’m not Lucifer.”

Satan snorts, a bitter grin splitting his lips, “Does that mean he knows about this and is going to berate me later?”

Asmo’s shoulders rise and fall with the hyperbole of a stage actor or a five-year-old, Satan choosing the latter as a more accurate description.

“Who knows? I don’t. I haven’t told anyone and, as far as I know, I’m the only one who’s figured out why you’ve been acting so weird around ___.”

He turns his head to face forward again, hiding his beaming, scheming smile from Satan, “But if I were you, I would hash out your feelings now, before all of our brothers figure it out and try to do something stupid. For example… try to stop you, or maybe… try to take ___ for themselves?”

The scrape of the chair against the floor as Satan leaps to his feet has Asmo chuckling despite himself.

“Sorry! Couldn’t help myself.”

Satan’s death stare softens when Asmodeus turns back once again to meet his eyes, the look he sends the Avatar of Wrath oddly kind considering his teasing not five seconds before.

“Just be honest with her and you’ll be fine, Satan. Lust is the body’s way of telling the truth, and love is the same for the heart. Trust your brother on that~”

With those parting words, Asmo takes his leave, leaving Satan to stand there mulling his words over in thought. As he struts down the hallway, Asmo can’t help but let a little sigh escape his lips.

“I meant what I said, Satan. You better snatch her up before I do. Just be thankful that I’m giving you a head start.”

~

He wishes that he could be bold enough to go straight to her and confess his revelation - confess that she has taken over the better part of his thoughts for so long that she has basically denounced him as the Avatar of Wrath altogether.

But, unfortunately for him, his rational side is much more in control than his emotional side, even with the realisation of his feelings for her. Any inkling of thought to approach her, any free chance to change the subject or whisk her away to speak in private is cut off… by his own doing.

Curse you for giving me some of your foolish pride, Lucifer. Satan seethes inwardly, looking for anyone to blame regardless of accountability.

Strolling with palpable irritation through the House of Lamentation’s halls, he pulls his phone out for the umpteenth time today, swiping it open and opening the messaging app. He stares at her contact, top of the list. The last message sent was her sending a sticker, the little demon character smiling brightly at him. With a slow, deliberate inhale, he focuses on dispelling all of his inhibitions with this exhale. Then, with every fibre of his being, he stops himself from thinking and simply lets his thumbs type away against the screen.

                    Satan: Are you busy right now? If not, come to my room for a bit.

He hits send before pausing to look over the message. With his eyebrows furrowing and that just-short-of-comfortable warmth pooling in the depth of his stomach, he types out a second message.

                    Satan: I want to see you.

That message sends a much harsher jolt of warmth through him as he hits send, suddenly self-conscious at his boldness and acutely aware of how direct and clear his message is. Even though he was staring directly at the screen, the vibration of the reply still makes him jump. Scolding himself and shaking his head, he pours his eyes over the screen.

                    ___: Okay! I’ll be there in 10.

Three little dots dance in sequence beneath the text, Satan’s hint to know that she’s typing something else. What appears is a sticker, the little red demon character blushing as it averts its eyes. Satan is quick to mimic the sticker - though unintentionally - his free hand covering his mouth as he turns his eyes to the ground, the heat emanating from his cheeks coursing into his fingertips.

Is that a good sign? I’ve read that courting for humans is the same for demons, but that was a book from the last millennia so maybe it’s changed since then? … I’m reading too much into this. Stop thinking, Satan!

With a grunt and a grimace, Satan continues down the hall, his footsteps heavier with anticipation and nerves. He vaguely registers a side glance and eyebrow raise from Lucifer as he passes him, but he doesn’t stop to process it. Not when the biggest challenge of his life was looming above him and ready to strike.

…

It was the longest ten minutes of this immortal demon’s entire life.

But the soft sound of knocking fills the quiet room and Satan is quick to open the door. He’s greeted by an equally soft smile, her cheeks rising with her clear happiness at seeing him. Satan feels the desire to let his gaze drift down to her lips, but he resists; every interaction with her begins this way after that night, but thankfully he can retain a somewhat normal air without her noticing his gawking.

Without a word, he opens the door further and steps aside. She walks past him as she enters the room, Satan aware of her eyes never leaving him even after he closes the door. Now alone in his room is when Satan begins to feel nerves twist his stomach into knots and swell in his throat like a lodged rock.

“Thank you for coming. I realise it was short notice.” He hopes he sounds normal enough as he says that.

She replies with a soft laugh, “Of course. I always enjoy seeing you.”

Satan swears he feels his ribcage jolt with how hard his heart hammers against his chest. Her words hold such power over him that he starts to second-guess if she might be a wizard like Solomon. He closes his eyes and clears his throat, raising one hand to his hip and the other to his chest.

“Hm. Well, good. I… I do, too.”

Keeping his eyes closed, he finds the words coming to him easier.

“Do you remember when you told me to come and talk to you whenever I needed to?”

“Yeah, I do.” He hears her small heeled boots click once, twice, against the floor, her voice closer than before as she worriedly asks, “Is something wrong?”

Satan swallows thickly. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, per se. It’s just… difficult. I haven’t felt anything like this before, so it was quite the mission to wrap my head around before I could accept the truth.”

The hand at his chest clenches into a fist, his sweater balled into its middle - directly over his heart.

“I found it infuriating at first, and even more so when I became aware of what this was. But now, I’m just angry at myself because I can’t look you in the eyes as I tell you this.”

“Why can’t you?”

An understandable question, yet it tightens the frown on Satan’s face and makes his breath leave him as a hiss through clenched teeth.

“Because looking at you makes me want to--!” He bites his tongue and turns his back to her, the end of his sentence ushering from his lips with remorse and shame, “--it makes me want to kiss you...”

A beat of silence. Enough to convince Satan that everything he has said has ruined their chances at ever having a normal conversation again. 

Her footsteps announce themselves as she steps closer, each one cautious as if she is approaching a frightened yet powerful beast. Gently, she places her hand on his shoulder, and Satan tenses slightly at her warmth - at her warmth only making his own warmth burn hotter.

“Satan.”

Please, don’t do it, he begs silently. But it is ultimately futile.

“Satan, look me in the eye.”

His body moves on its own accord, obeying the pact without any concern for the demon’s reluctance. She doesn’t command him - nor any of the demon brothers - that often through the pacts she made with them, but they know that when she does, it’s serious. Satan turns around, his arms moving to hang rigidly at his sides before his eyes are forced open by demonic influence.

She stands in front of him, no more than a foot away, her head tilted up to meet his eyes. And she looks… beautiful. Her eyes glisten with the beginnings of tears, yet her gaze is clear and focused only on his face. Her cheeks are stained a tempting shade of pink and stretch out to caress her ears. And her lips look so tantalizing and soft as she releases a breath from them. 

For a moment, the two stand there staring at each other, absorbing each other’s palpable emotions and letting themselves get lost in the other’s eyes. Then, she raises her hand and carefully cups the Avatar of Wrath’s cheek with a touch so tender that he forgets himself for a moment. His eyes widen and his lungs halt their breaths, everything ceasing to focus on the warmth and softness of her hand against him.

“___…” Satan breathes out, his voice confused and pleading, desperate for both more and less simultaneously.

The pad of the human’s thumb strokes against the skin of Satan’s cheek, seemingly lost in the act of touching him. He swallows around the lump in his throat and waits for her to speak, the everpresent heat only flaring hotter at the addition of her skin caressing his own.

“Tell me, Satan.” Her cheeks flush further and her eyes communicate hope and affection, “Why do you want to kiss me?”

“Because, I…”

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, her fingers sweet as they comb through his blond hair in a comforting, encouraging way. Lost in her eyes yet emboldened by her actions, his own hand lifts to cup her cheek, his thumb gravitating to push on her lower lip, so plush and perfect.

“Because I love you.”

His whispered words incite the warmth within him, breaking the dam and flooding his entire body with this sweet, addictive heat. Satan moves his thumb, replacing it with his lips as he finally, finally listens to his heart. She hums into the kiss, her fingers gliding further into his hair and tightening her grip, just enough to keep her presence known. Their lips part with incredible reluctance, their faces still so close together that neither can see anything except the other’s lips, both open and ready for more.

“I love you, too.”

… What?

Satan baulks, his breath leaving him as a confused gasp that he couldn’t mask quickly enough. She laughs softly at his confusion, her fingertips moving to brush his fringe out of his face while her other hand moves to grip his shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

“I love your company, your wit, how sweet you can be, your kindness. I love you, Satan. And I want to kiss you, too.”

His heart soars at her words, his brain struggling to catch up. But his body does not wait to react, the heat beneath his skin now burning his blood and fogging his brain. His eyes darken and his breath leaves his lips hot and desperate. Whilst familiar sensations, they feel foreign to Satan, this heat being too… addicting. He wants - no, needs - more.

His inhibitions discarded, his lips reunite with hers with such vigour that she gasps against him. Satan takes the opportunity to trace his tongue over her lips, poking and prodding at them, desperate for access. Her shock subsiding, she gladly relents with a sweet sigh and Satan claims her, his tongue running along the roof of her mouth before seeking out her own tongue to twine with. His hand still holding her cheek, the other loops around her waist and pulls her flush against him, desperate to feel more of her warmth and to share this glorious, suffocating heat with her. Her hands move as well, her grip tightening on his sweater while the other returns to his hair, carding her fingers through it and gripping tight.

Satan inhales sharply through his nose before deepening the kiss. She pulls his hair harder in response, the action spurring him on and making him want more. He sucks her bottom lip between his teeth, toying softly with it, lulling her into safety before biting down. Her groan is let out into the air unmuffled by their kiss, Satan pulling back with her lip still between his teeth. He lets go, letting her catch her breath and letting his eyes rake over the fierce blush on her face and the sweet, swollen velvet red of her lips. He pulls her back for another kiss, his impatience mounting. She returns it eagerly, her gasps and moans chorusing together. Their hands move over each other like the ebb and flow of a tide, each responding to the other and reacting in turn.

Their lips never leaving each other, Satan staggers backwards, urging her to follow. His back hits the door of his room with more force than she expected, her balance skewing and her chest colliding with Satan’s. She releases his lips with a gasp, pulling back to make sure he’s alright, but the hand on her cheek pulls her back in for more, a moaned grunt of satisfaction leaving Satan.

“Don’t stop.” He breathes out against her lips, his words muffled by the kiss he speaks through. 

When she hesitates, Satan moves his hand from her cheek to the back of her head. He lets his fingers be enveloped in the silky river of her hair before gripping it and tilting her head back with just enough force to hurt. She gasps, an edge of pain in her voice, but a whimper follows as Satan attaches his lips to the sensitive skin of her pulse point. Soft yet fierce kisses travel across the plains of her neck down to the collar of her shirt before retracing each step anew, his teeth nipping every so often at her soft skin just so Satan can feel her twitch beneath him. The pleasure he feels pooling within him is incredible, the heat intoxicating and desperate for release.

If I’m not careful, I might just--

His lips reattach to her pulse point, sucking and nibbling at the skin whilst the hand at her waist adjusts to trace his fingers along her spine, relishing in the way her body follows his touch as if begging for more.

I need more.

He moves back up to cherish her jaw, kissing along its edge until he reaches her ear. Her breath leaves her as a shuddered moan when Satan takes her earlobe between his lips, his tongue playful in its caresses and his teeth gentle in its affection against her sensitive organ.

“S-Satan…”

Her saccharine voice makes him sigh, the sound reverberating right into her ear and sending a shiver of pleasure through her. Just before he can return to her waiting lips--

“Satan! You in there?”

The voice and simultaneous knock shock the two in the room, the vibrations of the knock felt through their bodies significantly. In a panic, she buries her face into Satan’s chest to prevent any sound of shock from escaping. His hand still on her head, he gently strokes her hair both to calm her and to compose himself.

“What? I’m busy.”

“Lucifer needs ya. Better come quick before he throws a fit.”

Satan clicks his tongue at Mammon’s awfully timed message, “Alright. I’ll be over shortly.”

“Don’t leave it too long or we’ll both be in deep trouble! And I won’t forgive ya for it!”

His older brother’s heavy footsteps disappear into silence as he leaves, but they remain silent and still for a moment longer just to be safe. Convinced that they’re alone once again, Satan buries his face into the crown of her head and sighs deeply, his breath tousling her locks and wafting the sweet scent of her hair into his nostrils. He feels her nuzzle into his chest and he can’t help but smile at the action, his past thoughts of her being cat-like re-emerging in his mind. 

After another minute enjoying each other’s embraces on borrowed time, Satan begrudgingly pulls himself back. She follows suit, pushing herself from his chest but keeping her hands against him just as an excuse to touch him. Their eyes meet and they share an embarrassed smile, both of them flushed and glowing with a subtle hint of yearning and lust.

“You okay?”

His question makes her smile widen and she stands on her toes to press a ghost of a kiss against his lips, one so quick that he can’t react quick enough to reciprocate.

“More than.” she grins, “The demon I love returns my feelings. How can I not be okay?”

A troubled smile couples with tender eyes to make Satan realise that his heart is definitely going to be tested with this human if she keeps this up. But, the thought of always feeling so pleasantly lost for words and lighter than air doesn’t actually sound that bad to him.

He’s distracted from his thoughts by her hand sweeping a stray blond lock of his hair back into place, her eyes narrowing with unadulterated affection.

“Go on, then. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Lucifer.”

Satan nods, yet neither of them moves. His fingers massage the muscles at her hips, and hers trace over his collarbone through the fabric of his shirt. He can’t help but grin wryly at how easily this human has him in the palm of her hand, but realises that she likely feels the same about him. It makes him happy to imagine but, ultimately, the thought of Lucifer coming after him overpowers his greater desire to stay.

He pushes her away gently by her hips and moves away from the door. Quickly straightening out his clothes, he hesitates to turn to leave as he eyes her face. She raises an eyebrow at him and he lets out a soft laugh.

“One more?”

She rolls her eyes, but her grin and the twinkle in her eyes give her away. Satan closes the distance between them, his hand moulding to the shape of her face as he cups her cheek and his lips doing the same as they meet hers. Slow, smouldering, sweet; the kiss lingers even as they both pull away, the kiss kept short lest they get lost within their passions again.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.” She whispers with a conspiratorial smile, one Satan can’t help but mirror.

With a final, final peck to her lips, Satan pulls himself away from temptation and opens the door to leave, his eyes locked on her for as long as possible before closing the door behind him. The sweet, lingering heat still coursing through his veins simmers gently through him, her warmth and her scent reminding him of her presence despite her absence. He scoffs, yet the smile alighting his lips doesn’t match the sound.

I’m an idiot. And she’s an idiot for choosing me. But, now that I have her, I won’t let her go. This warmth of hers is mine.

As he starts walking towards Lucifer’s room, Satan does his best to school his features to keep the content smile off his face. But he can’t deny that it’s difficult, knowing that she’ll be waiting for him to return. And that she loves him and yearns for him, too.

That fact fills him with sweet, loving warmth.

[panharmonium]

last bit about 2.02 and then i swear i’m moving on with my life

“have you found someone to play our knight in the tournament?”

“absolutely.”

“he’s a farmer,” says merlin, nodding along with himself, “from one of the outlying villages.  and...no one will recognize him.”

hoo boy.  okay.

here’s the last last thing i gotta say about this episode before i move on with this rewatch.  

i’ll circle around to the point in a minute here, but first - have i mentioned before that merlin has only ever had two honest friends? 

have i mentioned that, once or twice?  or six thousand times?  yeah, i might’ve; okay, well, look, once again - merlin has only ever had two honest friends. 

his two honest friends are very different people.  but certain facts remain the same in both cases: they both get pulled into merlin’s mess of a “destiny,” and they both stick their necks out for arthur pendragon (willingly or, y’know...less so), and they both die right in front of merlin as a direct result of that neck-baring, and both of those losses impact merlin in dramatic ways. 

the difference between these two situations is that lancelot’s loss is recognized.

his loss is acknowledged by people who aren’t merlin, in both the immediate and the long-term.  lancelot's life and his sacrifice are honored and lauded in every corner of the kingdom.  he is respected; he is remembered.  everybody in camelot listens to arthur eulogize “his courage, his compassion, his unselfish heart.”  everybody in camelot knows his name.  he lives on in their stories.

and that’s as it should be, of course; lancelot is my forever fave and he deserves every bit of camelot’s love and much, much more, but it does make for a striking contrast with our boy prince william, who merlin believes deserves the same kind of recognition - for leaping into harm’s way, for lying to keep merlin alive, for loving merlin when no one else cared.

but of course that's not possible.  will dies not just in obscurity, but in ignominy, and the circumstances surrounding his death make the whole situation an utterly unbroachable topic.  every element of that little detour in ealdor makes the entire incident untouchable as a subject.  it’s forbidden territory.  it’s That Of Which We Do Not Speak.  arthur doesn’t want to think about it.  merlin doesn’t want to talk about it.  and the nature of the false confession william used to buy merlin’s safety ensures that merlin can’t ever discuss his friend honestly, anyway, so why bother?  

merlin does not like being unable to explain to people what lancelot and will really meant to him, but lancelot, at the very least, is memorialized and honored in other ways, by merlin’s immediate companions and an entire kingdom of people besides.  will died wrapped up in a bold and tremendous lie, the protective nature of which no one will ever see or understand or appreciate, and, unlike lancelot, he can’t ever be acknowledged for the fastness of his friendship or the bedrock firmness of his loyalty.  

no one will ever recognize him.  

and this is fundamentally painful for merlin, who is already hurting from losing him in the first place.  

so - in 2.02, when arthur dumps this stupid scheme in merlin’s lap and is like “ok go work out the details” - of course merlin immediately goes ‘omg.  this is it.  my Moment.'  

i mean -

arthur: i need you to invent an imaginary knight to enter the jousting tournament in my place as our pretend competitor; it’s got to be convincing and he needs a name and heraldry and a lineage so be careful and do your research and take your time with it but basically he’s got to be a hero-type, you know, knight material, someone honorable and brave, and essentially he’ll just take the field to absorb the respect and appreciation of hundreds of cheering people

merlin: *has geoffrey’s entire genealogy book of 3000 names to choose from*

merlin 0.0001 nanoseconds later, not opening it:

boom.  done.  instantaneous.  never a question.

merlin makes that choice on purpose.  in an episode that’s all about teaching arthur, the princliest prince to ever prince, some humility, in an episode that’s all about calling arthur out on his “i’m not a noble i’m just a regular dude/i don’t care about titles” hypocrisy - merlin does that on purpose.  not for anybody else to see, not for anyone else to understand.  just for himself.  just a little gesture, to make himself smile.  a knighting by proxy.

but of course then it all works out SO MUCH BETTER than he expected, and the whole of camelot ends up roaring with applause not for arthur but for the fake knight merlin named, which is honestly the best, brightest ending i could possibly imagine.

i love getting to see merlin at the end of this episode.  after five straight episodes of him dealing with all this heavy stuff, from 1.10 to 2.01, after all of that stress and sadness and fear - to see him here, when arthur declines to claim the trophy and sends out their Farmer Knight and every single person sitting in the lists is on their feet cheering for some nobody peasant farmer from a little nothing town who merlin just happened to name william for his own purposes

he is so

so

happy

he’s so tickled.  just.  delighted.  he’s laughing and shaking his head to himself at the end there like he can’t even believe how ridiculously great this is.  it’s so much better than he could possibly have planned.  it’s cosmic justice.  

later, uther says, “we have a new champion, sir william of deira” - and the camera immediately cuts to merlin having a private laugh

because you know, as it turns out, camelot’s new kingdom-wide champion - the name to be recorded in all current and future reference texts, written in official, indelible ink - goes down in the history books as “SIR WILLIAM”

and merlin thinks that’s just perfect.  

[banashee]

Part 2/2 of Tony setting the kitchen on fire for @hopelessly-me :D ♥

Enjoy ♥

...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.

 One day, Clint finally caves.

 “Tony. You know I love you, but       please     - let me show you how to cook. I can’t take it anymore.” he tells him over ice cold dinner. The archer pokes a piece of meat with his fork to prove his point.

 Tony nods slowly, but he also says,

 “Last time it was burned. So now I cooked it for less time.”

 Clint blinks at him, knocking on his plate with the meat, which results in a solid noise.

 “...Honey, it’s still fucking frozen.”

 “...Okay, yeah.” Tony sighs, shoving the plate away from himself.

 “Sorry, I know the last few months of my cooking haven’t been pleasant. At least I didn’t burn the house down yet.” he adds, with a small smile to lighten the mood, but it is clear he is not happy with his results.

 “The alarm didn’t go off in a while, that’s progress, right?” Clint shoots back a lopsided smile, before he continues,

 “Honestly though, I don’t mean to be condescending because that’s probably how I sound, and I’m really sorry for that, but… I know you’re trying, and I know you don’t like help with things… In general, and I get that. But don’t you think that it would be better in the long run?”

 Their hands meet over the table, warm and solid as they squeeze and hold on, thumbs caressing each other. Clint and Tony have been home to one another for a long time now, and they know with a bone deep certainty that they can talk about things without making a personal vendetta of it, no matter how small or big the issue is. It’s just not how they work - what they have is easy going and it always has been.

 A casual friendship with benefits quickly turned into more, and after months of pining and awkwardness, they finally got a move on and figured out their feelings for each other. That talk had been halting and even more awkward than the weeks before, but it led to mutual three-word-sentences and a future full of happiness.

 Tony smiles, squeezing the other man’s hand as he asks,

 “So, you don’t mind having to show me basic shit like cooking eggs without burning them to a crisp?”

 “No, of course not. I love you and I love cooking - there really is no downside here if you ask me.”

 “Alright, then. Thanks, Babe.” Tony leans forward for a kiss, which Clint is all too happy to give him. The cold dinner on the table is almost forgotten in the next few minutes, but as it turns out, it is the perfect opportunity to start.

 “Okay, so, let’s put this back into the pan and crank the heat up. You want this to be warm and cooked through entirely. Then you - Tony… Please put down the salt shaker.”

 “I have salt and I am not afraid to use it!”

 “Yes I know, and that’s a problem! No, go away with that!” Laughing, the two of them tackle each other through the kitchen, until they end up pushed against the counter, foreheads touching and giggling like lovesick teenagers.

 “Will you give up on any harsh decisions regarding the salt?” Clint asks, in a mock-serious tone that is actually a pretty good impression of what Phil Coulson sounds like, and Tony grins at him, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

 “I      am     small and salty. Never.” he tries to snatch back the salt shaker, attempting to distract Clint with more makeout opportunities. He leans in, pulling Tony close with one arm and holding the salt shaker up over his head with the other - it’s a dick move, but it works. His boyfriends sputtering at the offensive act only makes Clint  laugh more, but they need to flip the meat in the pan before their dinner burns once again, so their bickering is interrupted.

 A little while later, their dinner is actually warm and not only edible, but really, really good at that. Tony is still surprised that they managed to save it, especially since there have been instances where this would have been simply impossible. But then again, he is lucky enough to have a partner who knows how to save messed up food, given there is a way left to salvage it in the first place.

 “What’s the worst that ever happened to you while cooking?” Tony casually asks another night, while he is chopping vegetables into accurate cubes - they’re making stir fry, and the task at hand is easy and repetitive enough to chat away. Besides, he is used to handiwork, so this is totally doable.

 Clint shoots him a knowing, amused look.

 “...I almost set my kitchen in the SHIELD bunk on fire. It was like three in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to make a dessert with flambé bananas. Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned and my neighbours fucking hated my guts for setting off the fire alarm in the middle of the night… That was about 15 years ago, and goddammit, some people      still    bring it up.”

 Tony laughs, loudly.

 “Well, thank fuck you know what you’re doing now - imagine the two of us being Fire Hazards together, the tower would have burned to the ground ages ago. Imagine SHIELD on our asses for it. Or worse, Cap.”

 Slowly, he shakes his head. No one wants to see Steve’s “I am very disappointed in you”-face if they can help it. To be fair, when it doesn’t come to cooking, and more like, battles or developing weapons, the two of them combined are still a fire hazard. But that’s different, really.

 Clint, however, stops chopping with his knife mid air, head crooked to the side as he gently lowers it onto the cutting board. Then, he asks, completely straight faced,

 “...Did I ever tell you that Fury has backup-plans, just in case the two of us should be going rogue?”

 Putting down his knife as well, Tony fixes his partner in a suspicious stare. Despite everything, this is news to him, and he is about 90% sure that at least on this occasion, Clint isn’t fucking with him. Also, this is totally something he’d expect Fury to do. The man is paranoid, and Tony definitely wouldn’t put such a thing past him.

 “Wait what? No, you didn’t. Spill.”

 With a laugh, Clint tells him,

 “Ever since Nat went undercover as your PA and it was clear that both of us would be part of the Avengers, Fury put protocols in place - covered a lot of hypothetical situations, actually, it was quite funny to read. I think the short version is he knows both of us and our, dare I say, slightly chaotic tendencies…”

 With a snort of laughter, Tony collapses against the counter. This is putting it lightly and they both know it, but he enjoys hearing the story.

 Clint continues,

 “Technically I’m not supposed to know that, but Tasha told me about it. She laughed for like, 10 minutes straight. Me, too, by the way.”

 “I bet - heh, sorry i can’t” it takes a bit for Tony to calm down enough to say,

 “I bet he put a lot more protocols in place ever since he got wind of us being an item. Honestly I’d love to see that list.”

 The corners of his mouth are still twitching, and he wipes amused tears out of his eyes as he keeps cackling away.

 “Oh hey, we should do a dramatic reading of that form!” he says then, and Clint is laughing too hard to answer, but he nods, vegetables forgotten on the counter for several minutes.

 He only barely manages to stop Lucky from stealing the chicken right off of the counter, which only makes him laugh harder as he tries to hold his dog back by the collar. Once again, Lucky looks like he is judging his humans - even his one remaining eye is pretty expressive.  

 Once they have calmed down a bit, they continue. Tony is about to put the vegetables into the frying pan, but Clint stops him.

 “Wait. Put in the onions and garlic first, let them get glassy and then add the rest of it in. One after the other. Hardest stuff first, softest last. That way you have everything cooked through without having some parts mushy in the end.” he explains, which is met with a surprised noise from his boyfriend.

 “Huh, that makes sense. Cooking       is     logical, after all.” Tony says, as if that’s news to him - truth be told, it probably is.

 “Of course it’s logical. What did you think?” Clint asks, even though he already knows the answer.

 “Magic? I don’t fucking know” Tony shrugs, but he looks very much satisfied. Even more so once everything is done. The stir fry turned out perfect, and the pasta only boiled over once - the kitchen is a mess, but the food is amazing, so it comes to no surprise that one after one, the other Avengers show up in the kitchen like a bunch of hungry sharks. Food always brings them together, especially if the delicious smells are wafting through the tower.

 Apart from the obvious - having to eat, having to help out and later on, hating the SHIELD cafeteria with a burning passion - this is why Clint learned how to cook in the first place. Food brings people together, brings in company.

 As someone who spent most of his life either lonely or socially awkward or both, Clint learned early on that if he feeds people, they will stick around - at least for a bit.  It is a long standing habit, and although he genuinely loves cooking and baking, because it’s fun and relaxing, the people aspect is a big motivation as well.

 Feeding people keeps them around and Clint recognizes that this might be a little sad. But he can’t deny that he likes doing it, one of the reasons being that, making food for someone shows that you care. As much as his social skills suck sometimes, Clint likes to take care of the people around him, especially loved ones.

 Lucky for him, there is almost always someone around, here in the tower, to enjoy whatever he spent the day cooking or baking. Especially if either Steve or Thor are home, he knows nothing will stay untouched for long. While those two will eat anything and everything that isn’t nailed down, Clint knows that Tony is usually a bit of a picky eater, but he will try everything Clint makes, because he knows from experience that it’s always good. He does have a bit of a sweet tooth though. Bruce on the other hand prefers savory things, which is why he himself is cooking a lot of spicy, indian food, but he will also happily go to town on a loaf of bread fresh out of the oven.

 Natasha, much like Phil and Pepper whenever they’re around, has a huge sweet tooth - whenever there are cookies or cake or anything else, she is the first to creep into the kitchen. Oftentimes, she steals balls of cookie dough and bowls with batter remaining in them. It gets even worse when Phil is around, because the two of them will team up to get all the sweet things - It’s highly classified, but you can totally buy Agent Coulson with sweet things.

 Clint knows all of this, especially since he’s known Phil and Nat for many many years. Therefore, he counts in whatever they are likely going to steal whenever he is baking - he’s known their systematic approach for ages now, but he doesn’t mind it. Not at all.

 Later that same night, Clint is sprawled out in bed, legs tangled with Tony’s and one arm wrapped around him. His head is pillowed on the other man's shoulder, face pressed into his favourite spot - the crook of Tony’s neck.  Restless fingers are lightly scratching his scalp, and the even breathing of his dog by their feet are almost lulling him to sleep. His other hand is lazily tracing invisible patterns on Tony’s back, fingers creeping under his shirt and against warm, smooth skin. The happy hum he gets in response causes small vibrations to travel through his entire body, even when he can’t hear it.

 They drift off to sleep like this, and when they are in the kitchen the next morning, Clint asks, as Tony keeps an suspicious eye on the scrambled eggs,

 “Do you want to bake bread with me later? We can use it tomorrow for french toast.”

 “...I’ll have to touch wet dough, do I?”

 “...Ideally, yes. But it’s fun, I promise. Careful, your eggs.” he adds, and Tony jumps to flip them - just in time - no harm done. He lets out a sigh of relief.  As it turns out, having someone close to help him get a hang of this really helps. Besides, Clint is a good teacher, and the whole love thing helps a lot. Just spending time together, really - and the compliments from their other teammates for last night’s dinner for example. All of it makes him want to keep going.

 “Okay, let’s do it” Tony says, and the happy smile on his boyfriend's face is more than enough motivation to say “yes” again the next time he asks if he wants to bake.

 As it turns out, baking is a whole different thing than cooking, which takes him by surprise. Especially since he needs to be a lot more accurate for this, while with cooking, there is at least a little bit of freestyling allowed. With baking? Not so much.

 “It’s sticky. Ew. Babe, why? Why did you do this to me?” Tony complains, making a face as he holds up his hands that are covered in admittedly clingy bread dough - he’s not quite sure he actually likes doing this.

 “It needs more flour - hold on.” Clint scrapes off as much dough from his hands as he can, carefully grabs the paper bag with two fingers and sprinkles a little bit more flour in both mixing bowls.

 “Try again, it should work itself out. If it cleans out the bowl we’re good.”

 “You said this was fun… Oh hey, that’s actually better now!” Tony exclaims in surprise, relieved that his bread dough isn’t nearly as sticky anymore - now, he can knead it with his hands without thinking of hacking them off right after. Truth be told, he is starting to see the fun part of this whole thing now.

 “See? You’re doing great by the way.” Clint tells him, a warm and happy feeling spreading out in his chest. He is incredibly happy to be able to have this - to have Tony by his side in the first place. Words can’t express how much he loves this man, and he hopes that Tony knows nonetheless.

 “I’ve got a pretty good teacher - you should meet him some time. He’s got amazing arms and an even better ass.” Tony is grinning over at Clint, absolutely not checking out those very much appreciated body parts while he does so. They have been together for quite some time, but the attraction to one another has not died down - not at all.

 “Oh, does he now?”

 “Very much so.”

 Cheesy flirting and easy banter is what they do best, and by the time their dough is covered and resting, Clint and Tony disappear upstairs and into the bedroom. They lose their clothes on the way, leaving a trail through the entire apartment until they fall into bed, wrapped tightly around one another and laughing in between kisses and wandering hands.

 There is plenty of time to pass until the bread is ready to be baked, after all.

*+~

Prompt 10: Teaching

[waywardnerd67]

Racing Hearts

Summary: In between saving people and hunting things, Dean Winchester races his Baby down the streets of whatever town he may be in. After catching a case in Oklahoma, the Winchesters run into a familiar face who shares the same needs as Dean for speed. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Street Racing Word Count: 1143 Prompt: “I feel the need; The need for speed” - Top Gun A/N: This is for @deanwanddamons​ 2k Celebration

Dean Winchester could feel his brother’s eyes burning into him, “Spit it out Sammy.”

“This is stupid, Dean. The last time you did this, you ended up in the hospital for a week and it took nearly a month to rebuild the car.”

He could not help the small smirk on his lips, “Yeah, but it was one hell of a ride.”

Sam glared at him as their waitress came up with their bill, “Let’s just focus on the case and then you can go back to your suicide mission.”

Rolling his eyes, he chuckled at his brother’s dramatics. Sam pulled out the Men of Letters’ file going over the details again of the demon they were hunting in Oklahoma City. They headed back to the motel deciding to head out after a night of sleep.

It had started when some punk in a plastic toy car had challenged Dean to a race. The adrenaline that coursed through his body as Baby flew down the vacant city street leaving the poor soul at the starting line was indescribable. That rush of tires burning rubber, the motor roaring to life and everything passing by him in a blur was the one thing he desired more than anything in his life. Sure hunting monsters was exciting for a hot minute, but it was always the same. Racing Baby was a whole new thrill and the only thought that consumed his mind as he sat in the motel room with his brother.

“Go. Just go.” Sam sighed heavily, not even looking up from his laptop.

Without a second thought he grabbed his jacket off the bed, “Whatever I win tonight I’ll split with you. Promise Sammy.”

“Whatever. Just don’t get dead.” His hazel eyes locked with his for a brief moment.

Giving a short nod, he was out the door and in Baby cruising for a local race. He knew of a few drivers in OKC and met up with them to be led out to an open road in between two fields. There were several cars lined up and even more people watching. Dean chatted up a few of the guys he knew and flirted his way into two phone numbers for the evening. Then he spotted a car almost as beautiful as his Baby.

Walking up, he admired her smooth lines and glossy crimson color. Her windows were dark keeping the driver a mystery as it idled in its spot. They revved the engine a few times, Dean bit down on his lip watching them drive from their spot towards the start line.

“Who’s driving the Chevelle?”

His buddy chuckled, “No idea. They kind of showed up tonight not knowing anyone. You know racers, they're not particular whose money they take.”

“I bet you that car will not lose unless they come up against me of course.” Dean smirked, hearing in the distance the big block taking off.

By the time he pulled up to the line, Dean had already tripled the money he had on him easily. The last race was between the mysterious red Chevelle and his Baby. He leaned against her waiting for the driver to finally reveal themselves. His heart pounding as the door creaked opened and then it plummeted to his stomach.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hello Dean.” Her honey tone brought up memories he had long pushed from his mind.

They walked up to the flagger and organizer handing their cash to him. As they stepped back to their cars, he slowed his steps to take a long look at her. The last memory of her with a tear stained face, glasses down her pointed nose and his flannel wrapped around her. Now, every curve he had loved was covered by tight denim and black leather. She seemingly glided over the ground with unnatural grace unlike the clumsy (Y/N) he had saved so many times. Other than the years and experience that she had now, there was something unnervingly different about her.

“I gotta know, Winchester… what’s a guy like you doing on the streets with your precious Baby?”

He arched his eyebrow the way he knew used to drive her crazy, “What can I say, I feel the need; the need for speed”

Her laughter filled his heart with longing as she smirked at him, “Okay Maverick. Well, try to keep up if you can.” She slipped into her car closing the door before he could respond.

They came up to the line, his eyes never breaking from the flagger for him to flash his light signaling to go. As soon as Dean saw the light, his foot was on the pedal and Baby launched forward at the same time as (Y/N). They were neck and neck until the end when she inched ahead to the finish line. He started to break until he saw her car was still going full speed towards the cement barriers. His heart leaped into his throat as he watched in horror her car smash into the barriers.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he braked hard scrambling out of Baby to her driver side door.

She was already out of the car leaning against the untouched barrier, “Damn and I really liked that car too.”

Dean stared at her with wide eyes, “W-What are you?”

She scoffed, “What do you think I am, Winchester?”

“You can’t be. You’re… you’re the demon we’re hunting.” He took a step away from her.

“What? No!” She stood straight, closing her eyes for a moment.

He gasped as her eyes glowed blue and ethereal, black wings surrounded either side of her.

“You’re a freaking angel!?”

She nodded bringing her wings back to her, “Yes and right now we need to go because if he finds out who I am then we will be in more trouble than I care to deal with right now.”

“He who? Start explaining now.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest as she walked to the passenger side of Baby.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “The organizer. He’s your demon and I’ve been following him for weeks now. Try and keep up Winchester, sheez. Now can we go?”

He growled before getting in Baby and taking off down the dirt road that was just off the main street, “Once we’re back at the motel I want a clearer explanation of everything including you having wings.”

“Awe, I don’t know Dean. You know what happens when you and I are in motel rooms.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all. The question is, will you explain who I am to Sam?”

Dean remained silent staring out to the open road in front of him, “He knows all about you already except the feathers.”

He caught her eyes snapping over to him and softening as silence fell between them.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics 

[buckybeardreams]

Unwanted

Chapters: 4/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Words: 1,542

The first night when Steve didn't get a call from his soulmate he convinced himself that he was too tired when he got off his shift to call him, that maybe he didn't want to call him so late. Totally reasonable. Steve barely slept that night, staring at his phone for hours and willing it to ring before dragging his butt out of bed at the crack of dawn and heading over to Sam's.

Sam answered in his underwear, told Steve to keep his voice down when he started to excitedly tell him about his night, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Despite Sam's best attempts to keep Steve quiet they still woke his mate, who apparently was not a morning person. Though to be fair, Steve had woken him up at six o'clock and not many people were excited about being awake that early, especially if they didn't have to be.

Sam's Omega snapped at them to shut up when he entered the kitchen, ranted about how Steve was way too sunshiny for someone who was awake before the sun, and then stole Sam's coffee. Sam just smiled fondly at him and wrapped his arms around his waist, letting Brock lean up against him.

"So you must be Brock?" Steve asked, grinning. "I just found my mate too."

Sam smiled at Steve.

"I really am so glad for you, man. Next time call before you show up though."

Steve blushed and scratched the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Sam. I was just so excited and I had to tell you."

"It's all good."

Brock grumbled about damn early morning people and refilled the coffee cup before joining in on the conversation.

"So, what is he like?" Brock asked, feeling much more alive with coffee in him.

"He's perfect. Gorgeous dark eyes, dark curls, so tiny he's practically pocket size,” Steve said, clearly lost on the Omega he'd barely even spoken to. “He's the prettiest Omega I've ever seen."

Brock raised a brow at him.

"Saying that in the presence of another Omega is dangerous."

Steve blushed and stuttered out an apology that Brock waved off.

"Relax, I'm only teasing you. I'm not jealous of your mate," Brock said, rolling his eyes and pressing closer to Sam, turning to press his nose into his neck.

"I'm glad things are working out for you, man," Sam said, his thumb rubbing circles into Brock's hip. "When do we get to meet him?"

Steve shrugged.

"I don't know. I need him to call me first and then I'm thinking I'll take him out on a date and after..." Steve blushed, but grinned like a lovesick fool. "Well, maybe he'll let me mate him."

"I can't believe you haven't mated him yet," Brock said in disbelief. "You really just left without taking him home with you? What if he thinks you're not interested?"

"I gave him my number!" Steve defended. "Besides, he was working."

Brock rolled his eyes and Sam stepped in to steer the conversation towards less rocky waters. Steve continued to rave about his Omega and Sam nodded along indulgently.

"Yeah? He got a name? This pretty Omega of yours?" Brock mumbled into Sam's neck.

"Yeah, Anthony, " Steve said dreamily, his eyes sparkling.

Brock turned to look at Steve considering that.

"Yeah? Where'd you say you met him again?"

"A bar. He was the server there."

Brock nodded, fitting the pieces together. He hoped he was wrong, because he had a feeling that if he was right that Steve might not ever get that call he was hoping to get. Brock didn't say anything about it, because he didn't want to worry Steve, but it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

Which is why Brock called up Tony the moment Steve left. Tony was still ignoring him though and Brock groaned.

That fucking brat.

He couldn't ignore him forever.

*****

It turns out he could ignore him for a month though, because Tony was just too stubborn for his own good.

"Why don't you just call him?" Brock asked.

Tony had finally given in and invited Brock over.

"I can't. I threw away his number," Tony groaned.

"Stupid, stupid Omega," Brock teased. "Why would you do that? You can't hate Alphas so much that you'd throw away what is potentially your only chance at happiness?"

Tony pouted. He hated being teased.

"You're not helping," Tony whined, throwing a pillow at him.

Brock just laughed and caught the pillow.

"You'll find him somehow," Brock assured him. "When you do, just make sure you at least get his name."

Tony shook his head.

"Nope, if I ever see him again, I'm running in the opposite direction. Anyone who can make me feel this miserable is bad news."

Brock hummed, propping g the pillow up behind him and grabbing his beer to take a sip.

"You only feel miserable because he's gone."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not give him a chance to get close to me only so he can decide I'm not worth his trouble and leave me. Never knowing how good it could be is better than knowing and losing it."

"Oh, you poor thing," Brock cooed at the smaller Omega. "You're just terrified of getting hurt, but if you never take a chance then you'll never have a chance at happiness."

"Shut up," Tony grumbled. "I hate it when you say smart shit like that. It makes me feel stupid."

"Tony you are the farthest thing from stupid," Brock told him, but then he smirked. "Though you do stupid shit constantly, so maybe you are pretty stupid."

Tony rolled his eyes at his best friend's teasing.

"I will shove you off the couch if you don't stop making fun of me," Tony threatened.

Brock laughed.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop, but you have to promise me that you'll come over for dinner tomorrow night. Sam's best friend is coming too,” Brock said casually, like he wasn’t secretly hoping that Steve was Tony’s soulmate. “It'll be my first time hosting a dinner like a real adult. You have to be there."

Tony sighed dramatically, but nodded.

"You know I wouldn't miss it for the world."

*****

When Steve didn't get a call by the end of that first day he was starting to have his doubts, but he tried to remain positive. Maybe his soulmate was just busy or maybe he was shy and trying to work up the courage to call. By the end of the week Steve had all but given up hope on ever getting the call he was waiting for.

He knew that he could go back to his work, but that just seemed wrong. If the Omega didn't want to see him Steve wasn't going to force him to. He definitely wasn't going to pressure his little mate. He wasn't an asshole.

Steve was definitely heartbroken though. The feeling of rejection was steadily creeping up on him and threatening to consume him. He held it together pretty well that second week, but by the time the third week hit with no word from Tony, Steve was depressed and had completely given up on getting to have that happily ever after he wanted. He had also given up on showering, spent all day in bed but never seemed to sleep, and the only reason he hadn't starved was because Sam kept bringing him food.

Steve felt bad that Sam was spending his evenings consoling his best friend, instead of with his own mate. It really wasn't fair, but Steve was still grateful for it. He was miserable, but it was easier when Sam was there. It was easier when they were watching movies and laughing. Sam was good at distracting him when possible and being a shoulder to cry on when Steve couldn't hold it together and broke down into sobs.

Steve was miserable, but he still clung to the last shred of hope that maybe someday his soulmate would want him, would call him on the phone.

"Do you think he knew? Think he could just tell somehow?" Steve asked at one point.

"Tell what?" Sam asked.

"That I wasn't a real Alpha."

"Hey, don't think like that. You are a real Alpha. I don't care what others say. Alphas don't have to be domineering and controlling."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean everyone likes that. Maybe he could sense it and just knew that I could never be what he really wanted from an Alpha."

"Steve, stop, you can't think like that. You'll tear yourself apart if you keep thinking those kinds of thoughts. There's nothing wrong with the way you are and someday you'll meet someone who doesn't care about that."

"I don't want anyone but my soulmate." Steve pouted.

Sam sighed.

"I know you feel that way now, but someday you might feel differently. Maybe you'll meet a different Omega, or even an Alpha."

Steve cringed at that.

"I can't date an Alpha, Sam. That's just wrong. You know that Alphas can't be together. It's just not allowed."

"I'm not saying you have to, but you know I'd never judge you even if you did fall in love with an Alpha, or if you wanted to fool around with one or even just date around. Whatever you want, whatever makes you happy, that's what I want for you."

Steve whimpered, wiping tears off his cheeks.

"I just want my Omega."

For as miserable as Steve felt he still managed to pull himself together enough to get all cleaned up for the dinner that Sam and his Omega had invited him to. Brock had threatened to shove Steve into the shower himself if he showed up smelling like he hadn't showered in a week. Steve sure was glad that he'd showered and put on clean clothes when his soulmate showed up.