#i refuse to practice in front of anyone even the warm-ups make me self-conscious

[daedrabela]

i’m insane i’m insaaaaanee

[the-little-ewok]

Clandestine

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2400 (ish)

Warnings : Smut. PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, reader wears a dress, illusions to lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming

Summary: Poe can't keep his eyes, or his hands off you during a party....

(Alternatively a discussion was had about staining Poes trousers when he decides he can't wait to have you in private...)

A/N : Yea I'm still mostly on hiatus, but after a bit of lovely feedback from my Discord loves, I am sharing this with you all.

No longer using a taglist because it's out of date.

Forgive any mistakes. It's not beta'd and I'm bad at finding my own mistakes.

It was no secret that Poe hated these type of events with a passion, and so it should be no surprise that he had situated himself in the corner furthest from the dance floor, mostly hidden in darkness, sipping his drink as he watched the party begin to reach its peak.

He'd agreed to go only because you asked him, and for the most part, he had been the perfect partner throughout the dinner, apart from the fact he had politely refused to leave the table to dance. Instead he seemed content to sit quietly eyeing you in the dim lighting.

"Stop that," you scold, for what feels like the hundredth time since the pilot had seen you this evening.

"Stop what?" He grins, raising an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eyes you with blatant, feral desire.

"Looking at me." You fidget under his gaze, adjusting your dress and trying not to let him fluster you, although the heat prickling at your skin lets you know you are failing on that front.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, sipping his drink without ever taking his eyes off you.

The moment you had walked out of the fresher in this dress, he'd all but drooled over you. You still vividly remembered the way his mouth had fallen open, his eyes taking in every inch of your body — more than once — before he regained the ability to speak. You had fidgeted under his gaze, feeling suddenly self conscious in your choice of outfit, which was a little more daring than your usual attire.

"Jess helped me pick it," you had mumbled, as though it explained everything.

"Well we arn't going to the party." He had stated after a drawn out silence, swallowing hard.

You had frowned, confused, but before you had a chance to ask, he had pulled you into his arms, his mouth on yours, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him, begging you to let him view your dress on the bedroom floor, while he buried himself inside you.

Much to his disappointment, and if you were honest, your own too, you had managed to wriggle out of his grip, and firmly told him that he could do whatever he wanted with you, and your dress, after the party. The look he had given you would make anyone think you had told him BB-8's programming had failed.

So to the party you had come, and enjoyed it, with one glaring problem — he had barely taken his eyes off you, all night. Everytime you glanced over at him during conversation he was, for all intense purposes, absolutely eye fucking you.

You had no idea, until you met Poe, what being so openly desired could do to you. He riled you up with just a look and Maker, he was so damn hard to say no to. More than once you had to curl your fingers against your thighs under the table, willing yourself to have some control and stop your thoughts wandering to the way he was dragging his tongue along the Meiloorun fruit served for dessert. You were thankful when they finally cleared away the plates.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, keeping your eyes trained on the dance floor lights, trying not to give in to your desires.

"I can't," he practically hisses, leaning close to you. "You have no idea how much I can't."

"Poe." It's half a warning for him to stop, but the flicker in his eyes lets you know he knows he's starting to get to you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't regretted turning him down earlier this evening. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't considered faking some illness to leave the party early. But you had promised to come, and now you were here you had to stick it out, at least until a decent time.

He holds your gaze as his hand slips into yours, firm and comforting, even as he eyes you hungrily.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, sweetly, dangerously. You know exactly where he's about to put you, and why. Yet you don't stop him when he pulls you out of your seat, and guides you to sit on his lap.

You let out a soft gasp at the feel of his hard cock pressed against your ass, realising exactly what he meant by "can't".

"I need you," he whispers, almost sinfully, in your ear. "I need you, now." His nose brushes against the column of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's so much harder to ignore him now, to try and reason with him.

"Poe, we are in public!" It's barely a protest, your body already responding to his, your pussy clenching at the thought of his cock buried deep inside you, here, in a hall full of people. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does.

"I can't wait," he groans. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you." His tone is needy, begging, desperate.

It's thrilling, knowing you can pull that out of him.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, his hands already hitching up your dress under the table, splaying them warm against your thighs. "You know how good I can be to you."

The shiver of desire that runs through you at his words is completely involuntary. You can't stop it, no more than you can stop the way your heart gallops, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as his promise, and the memories of previous similar promises it revives.

"If anyone sees…" you trail off with a pleasured sigh as he kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"They won't," he states confidently, as though the table were a wall between you and the party.

You want to argue that he has no way of knowing, that this is a terrible idea, that you should wait, but you're too far gone, lost in the way his mouth feels against your pulse point, sucking a mark to claim you.

His hands, already pressed against the skin of your thighs, start a slow journey up, taking his time to squeeze your flesh lightly, enjoying the warmth of you against his palms, lightly pressing them open for him.

When he finally slips a hand between your legs, he lets out a sudden breath, as though the air has been punched from his lungs.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers skimming against your bare flesh, collecting the wetness already gathered there, and dragging up to brush against your clit.

You expect him to be smug about it, to tease you about how easily riled you are, how you want this as much as he does, but the pilot seems to have been struck dumb by your lack of underwear and only succeeds in a low whine against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, desperate for friction against his aching cock.

Your own gasp, as he slips a finger easily into you, curling against your walls, is thankfully covered by the music. He gives you a moment to school your expression, lest anyone notice, before he slowly, almost lazily withdraws it, moving up to circle your clit, before back down to sink two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles against your neck as you squirm on his lap, his fingers stretching you open with practised ease. His hands know your body better than your own, and it takes him absolutely no time at all to have you struggling to contain your moans of pleasure.

Leaning into you he licks your neck, making you shudder with need.

"Can I fuck you now?"

You should say no, make your excuses and leave, pick this back up in your room. He's giving you an out, a way to stop this before it goes further than you're comfortable with. But you find you don't want to stop. In fact, you very much don't want to stop.

"Yes," you breathe out, rolling your hips against the straining bulge in his trousers. He curses, and within moments his fingers are removed and he's scrambling to unbutton his trousers, freeing his cock with some careful manuveting from you.

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself, your back to his chest, leaning your hands on the table, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Taking a breath you bite your lip hard as you sink down onto his waiting cock, taking things slow despite his desperation, and now yours. Both of you know drawing too much attention to yourselves would not be pleasant.

Poe's teeth sink into your shoulder, stifling his groan against your skin as you settle back on his lap. The bite of pain makes you clench around him and the pilot lets out a choked noise of surprise, his hips jolting against yours, pressing him deep inside you.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

You can't help but do it again and the torturous sound he lets out is more than worth it.

"Stop," he gasps "I don't wanna rush this". But you aren't listening to him. He's pushed you this far and now you're on edge, your body crying out for a blissful release you know he can give you. It just feels too damn good to tease him.

You clench again, and this time earns you a low growl that sends electric through your nerves.

You're expecting him to thrust up into you, hard and deep, the way he usually would when you tease him this way, but instead his arms hold tight against your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he grinds up into you, slowly.

It's so much better….or worse. He adjusts his hips until his cock brushes up against that one blissful spot inside you, constantly. It's never ending. No amount of squirming or wriggling allows you a moment from the pressure. It's too much and not enough. It turns the tables in an instant, and you can't help the whimper that passes your lips.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, clearly trying to keep his breathing steady as he rolls his hips into you again. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

You have to fight to stop your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he whispers in your ear, your hands dropping from the table to grip his arms so hard you're sure the nail marks will still be there tomorrow.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this," he slurs, his voice progressively more wrecked and quiet as he rambles on. Or maybe it's your hearing that's the problem. Suddenly all you can concentrate on is the base of the music as it vibrates through your veins, the press of his cock inside you, the weight of his arms around your waist, the pleasure surging through you.

You completely lose all sense of what he's saying to you, desperatly trying not to cry out his name aloud, or throw yourself forwards onto the table so he can pound into you. Instead you try your best to stay as still as you can, as calm as you can, while Poe seemingly does everything he can to make you a screaming mess.

Each grind of his hips is blissful torture. The pleasure builds and builds. The wave gets higher with each slow roll of his hips, your nerves on fire, your muscles taunt and aching, but there's no release. It's blissful and terrifying all at once. It holds you on the precipice, tiptoeing the edge but never allowing the tide to claim you.

He pushes you almost to the point where it's too much, to where you're almost sure you can't take any more, to where your considering begging him for release. But before you have chance his hands are suddenly grasping at your dress, pulling it up out of the way to press his fingers against your clit.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

And you do. Oh, you do.

You gasp, choking back your moan as your hands fly to grip the edge of the table, so hard your knuckles go white, as the cresting wave finally crashes down over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, back arching, your eyes flutter shut as your climax rockets through you, uncaring who notices your reaction, lost in the bliss that seems to go on, and on.

You feel Poe's cock throb as he empties himself deep inside you, muting his own climax against your neck, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs as he continues to grind into you with the same slow, deep roll of his hips, riding out both your highs until you come down.

When you finally open your eyes your gaze flickers around the room, quickly checking if anyone had noticed either of you, but everyone seems thankfully lost in their own business. You left out a sigh of relief, your body sagging back against Poe's in sudden exhaustion.

"Told you nobody would see," he mumbles as he nuzzles your neck affectionately.

"You're lucky," you smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

"I am very lucky," he nods seriously, before the edge of his lip tugs up in a cheeky half smile. "Thanks for helping me take care of that problem. I'll repay the favour later tonight… or now?"

You let out a strangled noise as Poe's fingers brush against the inside of your thighs, too close to where his softening cock is still buried inside you, unsure if you want to go again, or if you need a minute to recover. You feel the pilot smile against your neck as you twitch and squirm on his lap. Placing a soft solitary kiss to your damp skin he sighs.

"I'm sorry baby but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere." There's an undeniable smirk in his voice that lets you know he's anything but sorry about it, or his part in it. And now he's mentioned it, you can feel it — the slick warmth coating your skin, the evidence of both your climaxes seeping out. There's no denying it must be covering his lap as well as your own, and it makes an embarrassed heat prickle across your skin.

Before you can apologise, his arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you in place, unable to leave his lap as he brings his mouth to your ear. You shiver at his words, body tensing in anticipation.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please, please, leave a comment, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! You opinion, even incoherent letters, or little GIFs, is invaluable to writers. Otherwise we feel we did a shit job and we don't write anymore ;)

Thanks for reading!

[willsimpforanyone]

Hey there! Ok, first of all, your writing is ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS 🤩!!! Okay, on to the actual request now. Could you plz write a Heroes of Olympus fic with the seven (plus Reyna, Thalia, Nico and Will) X fem!reader who is a daughter of Khione (Greek goddess of snow)? R is struggling with controlling her powers cause they r linked to her emotions. Individually each character helps her with her powers in some way. Thanks! (Idk if that made sense btw but hopefully it makes sense!) okay, bye!!

no stop you're so sweet!! thank you so much omg

i can absolutely do that- for context, we're gonna say that the camp jupiter kids are visiting

i haven't given R a name and i refuse to use y/n

-----------------------------

The camp was huge and busy and full of people. She was overwhelmed, her breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. Steam blew around her as her freezing breath met the warm air and her hands fisted in her skirt. She wasn't gonna panic, she couldn't panic with all these people around, gods there were so many people in this stupid little tour group and oh shit she was panicking. She could see tiny flakes of snow start to flutter down around her, settling on everyone's skin. They started looking around and up at the sky and her nails dug into her cold skin as they finally turned and looked at her, the light snow turning into larger flakes and increasing in number. Within seconds there was a blizzard spanning six feet squared. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to calm down. A hand touched her own, and a voice reached her ears, muffled by the snow. "Hey, I'm Percy, is it okay if I touch you?" She forced herself to nod, and Percy pulled her gently away from the group. As soon as there were fewer people, she could breathe a little easier. "We're away from everyone else, it's okay, can you open your eyes for me?" Her eyes opened and met green eyes and black hair and an encouraging smile. "Take some deep breaths, that's it, you're doing great." Her breathing became more regular. "It's overwhelming for a lot of people, that's okay. You're safe now that you're here, I promise." The blizzard had all but stopped, just a few flakes brushed off her hair by Percy's caring hand. "It's okay, we don't have to go back until you're ready." She would be ready in a little bit.

The forest was quiet. She liked the quiet. She knew she hadn't been avoided, exactly, but it was hard to feel that way when there wasn't anyone sitting at her table. No one talked to her, but it was just because she was new. Talking to new people was awkward, she knew that. So it was her choice, and her choice alone, to go sit in the woods. She didn't know why there were tears down her cheeks, and she hated that they froze on her skin. A snapped twig made her look up sharply. There were two people in front of her. The girl sat down next to her. "It's cold out, why are you sitting out here?" She shrugged. "Don't really feel the cold. And it's either being alone out here or alone in a cabin so it doesn't really matter." She gave a small smile. The guy sat next to the girl. "You're the daughter of Khione, right? No wonder you feel lonely," he turned to the girl. "Hazel, there's no one else in her cabin." Hazel gasped and rubbed her shoulder. "Come with us. We'll see if you can be moved to my cabin, there's only me and my brother in there." "Oh, I couldn't do that to you," she said, but the warmth of hope and companionship bloomed in her chest. "If you really don't want to, that's okay, but at least come with us to the campfire, come with me and Frank." Hazel's soft smile melted away the resistance, and Frank stood up, offering his hand. She stood, using the hand held out, and followed the pair. Frank held her back a moment while Hazel joined the group of ten, twelve-ish people around a campfire. "If you really don't want to join, it's okay, I'll take you back to your cabin, I promise." He smiled warmly and a little nervously. "But it might be fun. Coming?" She smiled back, and walked towards the promised warmth.

Hunched shoulders, her ears were being assulted with jeers and taunts. Loser, loner, ice freak, anti-freeze. That one wasn't even right. The small table felt a lot bigger when she was the only one there, but she was getting used to that. It didn't help that the Ares cabin was very loud. To be fair, it wasn't the whole cabin, just the very loud minority. She tried to remind herself of that when she got called all these names. The table was covered in a heavy frost, the cutlery in her hands was cold and clutched tightly. She took a few deep breaths. There was minimal snow, and she smiled to herself. She was gaining a little more control. A plate slamming onto the table made her jump, and she looked up to see sharp blue eyes and a shock of black hair, piercings decorating ears. The girl sat next to her, scowling at the Ares cabin. "Hey! Leave her alone, assholes!" The girl turned to you. "I'm Thalia, ignore them." She smiled at Thalia. "Thanks, but you don't have to be here." "It's no problem," Thalia shrugged. "My brother is at his girlfriend's table so I was alone anyway and you looked like you could use a little help." That normally would have made her defensive, but Thalia seemed more protective than pitying. "...thank you, I'm not good at confrontation." She frowned. "Sorry about the... ice." Thalia shrugged. "I struggled too. And being the daughter of Zeus, my power was a lot more destructive than yours, trust me," she grinned. She felt less self-conscious with this strong, angry girl next to her.

The rings of seats surrounding the dead campfire were cold. There was a light layer of frost, but she was too tired to know if it was because of her or just the chill of the night. The nightmare had been bad, and waking up in an icy cabin alone hadn't helped. The outside had seemed warmer, more welcoming, and as she looked up she could see the stars. The campfire was central to the camp, she felt like she could check every direction. For example, the second she heard footsteps coming from the left, she snapped her head to see another girl, wrapped in a blanket and walking with determination towards her. The girl sat firmly beside her. "You're the kid of Khione, the one Frank and Hazel introduced us to the other night, right?" "...yeah," and suddenly she remembered the girl's name. "You're Piper, right? Daughter of Aphrodite?" Piper nodded. "Yep. What's up, why you out here?" She shrugged. There was no stigma around nightmares in the camp, everyone got them, but she still wasn't comfortable going into detail. "Just a nightmare, didn't want to stay in the cabin." Piper made a noise of understanding. "Me too," she shivered. "The frost natural or you?" She laughed ruefully. "Not sure, to be honest." She ran a hand through her hair, and it came away covered in ice. "Although judging by that, I'd say a good portion of it is me." Piper stood up. "Stay here, I'll be back in a minute." She grabbed her blanket and ran back to her cabin, returning with a larger blanket and a wide-toothed comb. "Can I get the ice and frost out of your hair?" Surprised, she nodded hesitatingly. Piper sat cross-legged on the wooden seat by her side and wrapped the blanket around them both, gesturing for her to turn round. "I'll be gentle, I promise. It'll calm us both down, then you can get the frost under control."

The sword shattered yet again and she threw the hilt on the ground, yelling in anger. She barely noticed the two others in the arena, too focused on the fact that the blade of her sword had gotten so cold it had broken- this was the third time. Every time she got into her training and concentrated too hard, ice spread from her hands to the sword and it was only a matter of time before she shattered it. "Hey, stop throwing stuff on the ground, kids train here." A harsh female voice came from across the arena, and she flinched. Turning, she recognised the pair- Jason and Reyna, they must be training. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up." She frowned, kneeling and picking up the remnants of her sword. Jason jogged over, followed slowly by Reyna. He knelt down too, helping with the jagged edges. "It's okay, what's got you so worked up?" She sighed. "If the metal gets too cold, it breaks. I get freezing if I concentrate too hard on fighting, apparently, so I've broken three swords in the past two hours." Reyna grabbed the discarded sword hilt, examining it. "You know, you should find a specific sword for your abilities." "You can do that?" Jason and Reyna nodded. "Yeah, mine turns into either a sword or a spear depending on the flip of a coin," Jason explained. "I'm sure we could find something that can withstand low temperatures." Reyna frowned, considering. "I'm sure if you asked Chiron he'd figure something out. Although maybe you should work on controlling the temperature issue." Jason's eyes lit up. "Hey, you should go see Leo! Remember him from the campfire the last week? He's always too hot, but he's great at changing his body temperature. Go see him tomorrow!" Reyna nodded her approval. She smiled. Okay, let's go see Leo.

"Um, hey, Jason said you could help me?" She knocked on the open door of the Hephaestus cabin, settling her eyes on the curly-haired kid- Leo- screwing around with bits of metal on the floor. He leapt up, scattering metal everywhere. "Yes! Hello! I remember you from the campfire, Piper said you'd be knocking on my humble door." She grinned as he approached, hands still fiddling with a screwdriver. "She was right, she recommended I talk to you about helping with my heat regulation?" Leo practically vibrated with enthusiam. "Yeah! I'm always hot-" he winked, she laughed. "-but it took me a while to regulate it, so I wasn't spontaneously bursting into flames. May I?" He held out his hands for hers. They were searing hot against her freezing skin, and she yanked them away. Leo pulled away too, a dismayed look on his face. "Uh, okay, too hot, got it. I'll lower my temperature as best I can." She placed her hands back in his, the difference a little less painful this time as she breathed deeply. "Sorry, it was just a little surprising, I wasn't aware of how cold I was." Leo shook his head, and pulled her further into the room. "Don't worry chica, you'll get the hang of it. Don't concentrate on the hands, focus on the feeling inside," he nodded towards a small bench, and they sat down. "Think of your body as a... car. If the hood it hot, you open it up and cool down the engine, right?" Nodding, she relaxed her shoulders and hands. "Got it, focus on the internal cooling issue rather than the results." That earned her an encouraging squeeze of her hands. They sat together for an hour, maybe two. She could almost increase and decrease her temperature at will. Leo taught her a weird handshake, where they changed temperature every time their hands met. "Thank you so much, Leo," she grinned, getting up to leave. "No hay problema, I'm glad I could help," he lightly punched her shoulder. "And hey, any time I need to cool down, I know who to come to."

The tiny ice towers sparkled in the sun, almost looking like crystal. She was curious- she'd come so far from the girl who caused a snowstorm at the slightest anxiety, so how much control was she capable of? The ice was sharpened to a point, but there wasn't much distinction between the small structures. There was someone who could help, with a mind almost as sharp as her ice. "Hey Annabeth? Can I steal your attention for a second?" The girl looked up from her Ancient Greek book, and smiled upon seeing her friend. "Sure, come in, what's up?" She walked towards Annabeth, sitting next to her on the bed. "You're good with architecture, right?" "'Good' is an understatement," Annabeth nudged her in the ribs. "But yes, architecture is kind of my thing." "Can you help with my power? I think I can control it better now, but I need a guideline- can you draw up a blueprint or something for me to model out of ice?" Annabeth's eyes sparkled as brightly as ice in the sun, and she darted to her desk, grabbing graph paper and a pencil. "We can experiment with different temperatures and thicknesses of the ice-" starting to spout facts about architectural structures and buildings. "Annabeth, this is awesome, but just know you have to be patient with me," she said. "I need a lot of practice." Sitting back down on the bed, Annabeth wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know, but we can do it. It'll be awesome."

"Hey! Over here!" Will beckoned her over. She smiled and jogged over and into the medical tent. "Hey Will, what's up?" She gave a small wave to the shadowy boy next to him. "Hey Nico." She recieved a vague nod in return. Will gestured to a kid, maybe eight or nine, holding his wrist sitting on a camper bed. "We've run out of ice packs, and we're waiting on an order of ambrosia and nectar so can you do me a favour?" She shrugged. "What do you need?" His next words came as a surprise. "I need snowballs." Laughing, she nodded. "Okay, sure, how many?" Nico kicked an ice box next to him. "Fill this." She nodded, and started creating lumps of snow, balling them up in her palms and chucking them into the box. The kid stared, fascinated. She grinned, pausing her snowball-making to blow a flurry of snowflakes in the kid's face, eliciting a delighted laugh. The slight smile on Nico's face didn't go unnoticed. She leaned into Will. "Hey, get Nico to summon a skeleton outside the tent." "What? Why?" She whispered a plan into his ear, and Will giggled. He grabbed his boyfriend by the arm and dragged him outside. She kept making snowballs and entertaining the kid with snowflakes until Will grabbed her arms and pulled her outside, a huge smile on his face. "Come on, come on, do it!" Will jumped up and down excitedly. Nico raised an eyebrow, but smiled fondly. "What did you want the skeleton for?" She grinned, and pushed her hands forward, snow flying from her hands and surrounding the skeleton. Bones clad in thick snow and from somewhere Will produced a carrot. Nico rolled his eyes, but took out two solid black earrings to stick into the face of the snowman for eyes. Together, she and Nico manipulated the snowman to walk into the medical tent, and from within came screams of delight- it was Christmas in August.

She felt home.

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this took me so long and my shoulder is killing me but i did it! i very much hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for requesting!

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, nor promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

「𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔」

You groaned as the doorbell rang incessantly. You weren't in the mood or spirits to talk to anyone. Getting up, you thought it'd be best to just tell whoever it was to leave you alone. But you couldn't do that when you saw who it was at the door.

"Hongjoong...?" You asked in disbelief.

"Hey Y/N..." He replied, nervously, tugging at the sleeves of his oversized sweater.

You certainly weren't expecting to see him there, at your house, especially not after your guys' breakup 1 week ago. It still hurt you and not wanting to cry in front of him, you began to close the door.

"Wait! Don't Y/N! I need to talk to you!" Hongjoong exclaimed as his hands tried to keep you from locking him out.

"Well I don't! I don't want to talk to or even see you Kim Hongjoong!"

Your efforts weren't enough as he pushed himself inside your house.

"Get out Hongjoong!" You demanded, though the tremor in your voice probably didn't sound too convincing.

"Not until you hear what I have to say." Hongjoong begged.

"I think I heard what I needed to hear last time, I don't need you to repeat yourself Hongjoong. I don't need you!" You shouted as tears finally poured down your face.

Hongjoong immediately pulled you close to hug you, but you kept trying to shove him off.

"No! Don't touch me! I don't want to see you! I don't need you in my life! And I don't need you repeating that this relationship would get nowhere! I don't need someone who isn't going to commit or take things seriously after so many years and expect me to be fine with it! I don't deserve that!" You cried.

"You're right Y/N. You're absolutely right. You don't deserve that, you deserve that at all. You deserve someone whose going to take care of you, protect you at all costs and love them indefinitely....."

Hongjoong sighed.

"And I was a fucking idiot for not stepping up to do that sooner for you..."

Your hands covered your mouth in shock as he got down on one knee and pulled out a velvet red box from his pants.

"This isn't at all how I wanted to ask you this....but I was desperate and I wanted you back in my life........not as my girlfriend..."

He looked up at you with adoring eyes.

"But as my wife..."

He opened the box to reveal a huge diamond ring with a rose gold band.

"So L/N Y/N.....would you marry me?"

「𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎」

You felt utterly humiliated and self conscious. You knew for a long time that Seonghwa's parents never liked you, but now they seemed determined to get rid of you.

Your face fell the moment a pretty looking girl came up and greeted Seonghwa, and she obviously had a big effect on him, given how he straightened up when he saw her. You tilted your head trying to think who was she, when the question was answered by none other than Seonghwa's mom:

"That's my son's former fiancee." She said behind you, the malice in her voice more than visibly to you.

Your heart dropped at her words, getting worried and anxious the more they interacted together.

"Such a beautiful, elegant, refined and classy lady......all the things you'll never be." She sneered at you before walking away.

You bit your tongue, trying to contain the rage inside of you, refusing to sink to the witch's level and retaliate in any way. You simply swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to walk out of the house, and out of Seonghwa's life if you needed to.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had actually heard everything and was less than pleased when his mom came over to him and his ex. Before she could even say anything, he bursted out:

"Let that be the last time I hear you disrespect my girlfriend that way mother. I think I've put up a enough of your bullshit, but this..."

He didn't hesitate to gesture to the incredulous looking girl next to him.

"This is the last straw."

Seonghwa began walking away, refusing to stay there any longer. He'd much rather go look for you, he knew you were probably feeling bad at this moment and needed him.

"Park Seonghwa! You walk out that door and choose that low life, we will disown you and never see you again!"

Seonghwa stopped at his mother's threat. Chuckling, he turned around.

"You know mom......I can live without a lot of things....

But Y/N isn't one of them. "

「𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜」

Yunho ran out of his car, not caring to actually turn it off. He bursted through the front door.

"Y/N?! Y/N?!"

He frantically called out for you and panicked when he didn't hear a response from you. He began running through every part of his house, looking in every room and corner, searching for any sign of you. He couldn't even find any sign that you had come home.

"No no no!" He exclaimed in fear and frustration.

He quickly took out his phone and called Hongjoong.

"What's up-?"

"I think they took Y/N!" Yunho immediately said.

"Yunho...are you sure?" Hongjoong asked from the other line.

"I'm sure of it! She's not home and I don't think she made it here! Hongjoong what if the threats they sent me came true?! What if they took her away from me?" Yunho couldn't contain his feelings anymore as he began sobbing, falling to the floor in defeat.

Hongjoong stayed silent on the other line, letting Yunho compose himself before asking:

"Yunho is Y/N really that important to you?"

"Yes! She's the most important person in my life! You don't understand Hongjoong!!...."

Yunho sniffled loudly before confessing:

"I love her and I can't live without her..."

Yunho broke down once again, internally kicking himself for not taking better care of you, for not putting up better security to ensure your safety. He felt like dying until he heard a warm and familiar voice say from his phone:

"I love you too Yunho."

Yunho nearly ended the call when he dropped the phone at the sound of your voice.

"Baby?" He asked.

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier Yunho. I asked her to come over because I wanted her to know what's been going on with our rival gang." Hongjoong explained.

Yunho let out a sigh of relief and wiped his face with the sleeves of his sweater.

"So you're ok and not hurt?"

Yunho could practically hear you smiling when you said:

"I'm ok Yunho. And don't worry. I'll be home soon. Wait for me."

「𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔」

Yeosang tossed and turned on his king sized bed, unable to sleep. He grabbed one of the many pillows next to him and wrapped his arms and legs around it, but it didn't feel right. It was cold and somehow couldn't adjust properly to his body.

Groaning he just threw it across the room and slumped on the bed, looking at the ceiling. He was startled by 3 loud knocks on his door.

"Yo! Can you either stop making so much noise or else I'm going to knock you out until our trip is finished. Thank you!" He heard Jongho's tired voice exclaim.

Yeosang sighed. Ever since he left the airport that morning along with the others because they had a mission to carry out, he had been anxious. This was the furthest and about to become the longest time he'd been away from home....

Away from you...

It was only the first night and he already had trouble sleeping. He had gotten so used to having you next to him, cuddled up next to you, inhaling your calming scent as he fell asleep to the sound of your breathing. It was like he needed it or else he'd go insane. If he couldn't have that, he at least needed to hear your voice.

Pushing his luck, he opened up his phone and tried to video call you. His free hand began fidgeting, as he remembered you probably wouldn't pick up since it was late and you were probably asleep too. His heart skipped a beat when your face popped up on the screen.

"Yeosang?" You asked tiredly.

"Uh..... hi baby. Did I wake you?" He asked, feeling guilty for disturbing you.

You yawned softly. "It's fine. What's wrong baby?"

Yeosang blushed at the pet name and at the thought of telling you why he called you.

"I.....couldn't sleep...." He admitted shyly.

"Oh? Why's that love?" You raised an eyebrow.

Yeosang smiled shyly before saying:

"You're not here.......and I wanted to see you....hear you..."

He leaned in closer to the camera, his fingers grazing the screen, wanting to touch you.

"I miss you.."

「𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛」

San strolled somberly through the park, not really paying attention where he was going. Finding an empty bench, he sat down on it and looked at the ground, reflecting on what happened a few days prior:

"You're...what?" He asked, his eyes widening when you told him the news. He began chuckling awkwardly.

"Please tell me your joking."

You held up the pregnancy, 2 lines clearly indicating that it was positive. San nearly fell back when he saw it.

"H-how in the world..?" He couldn't even finish his sentence.

"You really want a biology lesson right now?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know that's not what I meant!" His tone suddenly got loud, frightening you a little.

"We were careful! You were on the pill and I used condoms! What the hell went wrong?!" He demanded.

"You know that doesn't always work! And instead of yelling at me can't you try to be more supportive of the fact I'm carrying your child Choi San!?" You lashed out at him.

San looked away from you in shame, too scared of the situation. He grabbed his coat and left you there with only an apology that broke your heart.

San was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a little squeal. Lifting his head up, he watched as a young couple played with their daughter. The image brought a smile to his face, and then he was filled with dread and remorse for just leaving you like that.

"Choi San you fucking coward." He said as he got up and ran to your house, hoping it wasn't too late to set things right with you.

When you opened the door, you were startled to see him and even more startled when he engulfed you in a hug.

"I'm extremely sorry for leaving you like that Y/N. I was scared and truthfully, I still am."

Pulling back, he looked straight in your eyes to say the following words:

"But I love you and I'm not going to let you go through this alone. I'm going to be here for you...and our child."

「𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖」

"Hold still."

You repeated that for what seemed like the 25th time in less than 4 minutes.

"It stings!" Mingi complained when you wiped the cotton pad filled with sanitizing solution on his wound again.

"If you stop moving, we'll get over this faster and it'll hurt less." You reminded him.

Mingi shut his eyes tight and muffled a cry when you rubbed his wound. You rolled your eyes at him as you finished by bandaging him up.

"Seriously, you're such a big baby at times." You told him as you began dressing him in a shirt.

"Oh yeah? Can a big baby take a stab to the chest? No? Thought so." He stated proudly.

You only sighed as you began buttoning up his shirt.

"I only wished you'd be more careful. Sometimes I'm afraid of you getting really hurt...."

Mingi could sense your nervousness and fear of one day losing him. Cupping your cheeks, he smushed your face together and cooed at you softly.

"You don't have to worry about me baby. Hardly anything happens to me aside from little scrapes like these." He assured you.

You snorted. "Yeah. Scrapes that I always end up cleaning and taking care of. Seriously, what would you do if you didn't have me? You can't live without me."

Mingi was going to reply something sarcastically to your teasing, but instead he just let out a gasp and held a hand to his chest.

"What?" You were startled by his action, thinking his wound opened up or started hurting.

Mingi blinked at you before saying:

"You're right....I really can't live without you.."

Without warning, he tackled you onto the bed and wrapped his long limbs around you, rendering you unable to escape him.

"Cause I love you too much to let you go." He winked at you and pressed kisses all over your face.

"Mingi! You dork! Let me go!" You cried out half-heartedly, loving how playful he'd get.

"Nope! I'm never gonna let you go!" He giggled at you as he tightened his embrace on you.

「𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔」

You said good night to your date, allowing him to kiss you softly on the lips. It wasn't particularly bad, but you felt no sparks at all, although you pushed those thoughts away, believing that it was only because it was your first kiss together. You walked to the front of your apartment, and began to take out your key when a figure rounded the corner and stepped up next to you.

"Did you have fun on your little date?"

You knew that voice all too well, even if you were born again, you'd still recognize it.

"I did actually Wooyoung." You turned around, your arms crossing over your chest. You couldn't help the smug smirk on your face as you continued:

"He was a perfect gentleman and very well behaved thank you."

Wooyoung scoffed. "Boring old sack if you ask me."

"What the fuck do you want Wooyoung?" You were tired of him and just wanted him gone.

"You know exactly what I want Y/N..."

Pressing his body close to yours, he let one of his hands tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

"I want you.....I want us again."

You let out a dry laugh at that.

"How funny. If I recall correctly, it was you the one who wanted to end us. The one who didn't want to commit to a relationship, the one who wanted to continue living a wild life and just walk out of whatever we had."

Wooyoung looked away momentarily when you spoke out the harsh truth.

"Well guess what? I moved on and I found someone else to be happy with. I don't need you and you certainly don't need me."

You turned to walk inside your house, but Wooyoung spun you around and pinned you to the wall.

"That's where you're wrong Y/N! I do need you! I can't live without you!"

Not being able to help it, he gripped your chin and kissed you roughly. You didn't even try to push him away, deep down you knew you wanted it too. His kiss definitely sent sparks down your body and you craved it more when he pulled away.

Wooyoung smirked when he saw your expression.

"And I'm willing to bet you can't live without me either..."

「𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜」

Jongho stared at the documents in front of him. All he had to do was pick up the pen next to him, sign away and then he would be free. Free from this arranged marriage set up by both of your parents that threw you both together for years now. Both of you could finally live your lives the way you wanted to......

"So why can't I just do it?"

Jongho didn't need to think too much about it, he knew exactly why he was refusing to sign the papers.

"Jongho? Anytime now." You reminded him, tapping on the dotted line at the bottom of the page.

Jongho hesitantly picked up the pen next to him, sighing sadly. His hand began to tremble as he placed the ballpoint right on the line..... but he couldn't do it.

"Fuck this."

Jongho threw the pen to the side and grabbed the stack of papers, easily ripping them to shreds and discarding them in the nearest trash bin.

"Jongho? What are you doing?" You exclaimed in shock of his actions.

"I can't do this Y/N." He admitted.

"You don't have to be scared anymore Jongho. I told you, our parents won't care-"

"No Y/N! You don't understand! I can't end our marriage because I don't want to!"

You looked at him in shock when he said that. Walking up to you, Jongho held your hands.

"From the beginning......despite not wanting any of this....you were always so sweet and caring towards me, and you were always there when I needed you, even if at times I pushed you away.."

Your eyes welled up with tears when he began talking.

"I'm not ready to let you go.......I can't let you go."

He looked into your eyes before admitting:

"Y/N, I love you. I truly and wholeheartedly fell in love with you...... and I don't think I could live the rest of my life without you in it...so please...

Can you please stay with me?"

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (18)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, lots of teasing & domestic fluff 🥺

words: 7.1k

   chapter eighteen

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing that you felt wasn’t the disruptive rays of sun on your face – you’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night – but soft, almost feather-light touches of fingertips on your collarbones. And, even though you had never woken up next to anyone like this before, you didn’t flinch or pull away.

Instead, you opened your eyes and immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Jungkook was laying on the bed next to you, his eyes still hazy with sleep and his lips parted in concentration as he drew patterns on the edges of your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quiet. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake yet, or if this was one of the overly realistic dreams that you’d had before.

Jungkook looked at you, surprised to hear you speak – he hoped not to wake you – but relieved when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“Trying to make sure you’re really here,” he answered, his morning voice breathy and raspy, and enough to make your stomach clench and your smile spread in admiration, despite the corny words.

You closed your eyes again. “Did you practice that line?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, shameless. “How’d I do?”

You hummed in content. “The delivery was nice. But it’s all very cliché. I’d say a six out of ten.”

He chuckled lazily, pulling his hands away and prompting you to look up at him again, in a way a dog would look at the person who’d stopped scratching its’ head – disappointed and outraged by the audacity.

“I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook promised, almost naturally reaching for you again – this time, to brush an unruly strand of your hair away from your face.

“Next time?” you asked, not trying to insinuate anything other than your intention to find out his plans for the immediate future.

He read too much into it, however. He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said. “You’re about to tell me I was just a one-night-stand for you, aren’t you?”

You laughed, turning on your back but still watching him. “I’ve known you for twenty-three years.”

“Not like that, you didn’t.”

You looked away, your face warm. The smile on your lips was relentless, however – it gave no opportunity for you to pretend like the stressful night last night, and the way it ended, wasn’t a pleasant visitor in your memory.

“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked, feeling his arms go numb from supporting all of his weight, but not caring about it too much because, this way, he could see you better.

“Not a thing,” you told him, completely serious. “I want to stay in bed.”

“Alright,” he said, laying back down next to you as he decided firmly, “that’s what we’re doing then.”

You turned your head to face him. “Your bandmates will kill you.”

“That’s only if I go home,” he said, not seeming the slightest bit fazed about his impending doom. “If I don’t, then I’m safe.”

His indifference got you to smile; the relationship dynamics between Jungkook and his bandmates resembled a sibling connection far more than just a friendship. Still, he needed to do right by them.

“You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life,” you said.

“You underestimate me,” he shot back, very proud of himself.

“Jungkook,” you countered seriously.

“Well, I won’t really avoid them for the rest of my life,” he defended, “but maybe for the rest of the weekend.”

“Jungkook—”

“I liked the sound of my name on your lips a lot more last night,” he pointed out, deliberately distracting you.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could physically see the bolt of electricity that his words sent right into your stomach. He couldn’t get used to witnessing how the effect he had on you manifested on your face.

“Hmm,” you resisted the pull of his eyes. “Did you rehearse that, too?”

“No,” he replied, leaning in closer, “believe it or not, a lot of this charm comes naturally to me.”

“Must’ve had a lot of practice, then,” you spoke, your voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper, as his face lingered a few millimetres away from yours.

“Or a lot of daydreams,” he said, “and night dreams. And evening dreams. And morning—”

You ended up having to be the one who kissed him – to shut him up before you admitted that his cheesy pick-up lines made your traitor heart flutter; but it wasn’t so much the lines, as it was the undisguised fondness in his eyes, really. Smiling into the kiss, Jungkook was quick to take over by touching your cheek with his hand lightly, and shifting your face into his so he could deepen the kiss.

You pulled away with a half-hearted whine, your lips smacking as you broke the kiss. “It’s too early. I haven’t showered or even brushed my teeth yet.”

Jungkook looked absurdly offended. “You kissed me!”

“To get you to shut up,” you clarified.

“Oh, so the sound of my voice annoys you?” he jabbed, “very well. Let’s go.”

He rolled away from you and sat up in bed.

You watched him, confused and somewhat disappointed that his plans, clearly, did not include staying in bed the whole day, after all. “Go where? Where are you—”

Jungkook stood up and pulled you by your hands until you were sitting up. You refused to stand until he answered you and he clicked his tongue at your resistance.

“We,” he said, emphasizing the plural word as he gave you one more pull, forcing you to climb off the bed, “are going to take a shower.”

It already felt unusual – and uncomfortable now that it was daytime – to stand around in your room next to Jungkook, dressed in virtually nothing because you hadn’t bothered to find your respective clothes last night: he gave up after he untangled his boxers from his jeans, and you settled for his shirt. Now that he’d mentioned a shared shower, you started to feel even more self-conscious.

“We are—no, what are you saying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as Jungkook realized he regretted tossing you his shirt last night – he didn’t want it back now, not unless you were in it.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and heading for the door of your dorm.

You stayed put. “Together?”

“You’re not very sharp in the mornings, are you?” he teased and then smirked before you could punch him. “I like that. Yes. Together.”

He kept going – or, rather, tried to keep going because you still weren’t moving – and when he turned to look at you, exasperation was clear in his eyes.

“Jungkook, the showers here are communal,” you told him.

“Even better!” he replied. Not even an earthquake would have changed his mind.

“How is that better?” you frowned.

“I don’t mind an audience.”

You punched his shoulder. “I mind!”

Laughing, Jungkook let go of one of your hands and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning right now,” he said, not checking the time on his phone again – he’d done that as soon as he woke up, and he decided to abandon the device for the rest of the day. “I’m sure everyone’s still asleep.”

“Seven,” you repeated, all oxygen leaving your lungs until you felt like a deflated balloon. “Oh, God. No wonder I feel so tired. Why were you awake this early?”

“Why would I waste my time sleeping when I’m with you?” Jungkook asked with a face so straight, you’d have really believed all of this came to him naturally. “Now come on, let’s go.”

And you went with him – mostly because he refused to let you refuse, but also because your refusal wasn’t entirely genuine – almost forgetting to grab the towels and the soap on your way out of the door.

You were beyond surprised to learn that the sight of a boy, taking a confident stroll down the hallway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, didn’t make you cringe and look away at all. If anything, the dorm doors and the people living behind them was what seemed out of place here, because Jungkook – guiding you towards the communal showers – looked like he was right in his element.

“You ever worry your cockiness is going to get you in trouble?” you asked when Jungkook pulled the door open. You exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty shower stalls all around you.

“No,” he answered, smiling. “You do the worrying for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m clearly letting you do whatever you want at this point.”

“Oh, so, does that permission include doing whatever I want to you?” he was grinning as he pulled you into the closest stall and pressed you against the tiled wall, forgetting the curtains or anyone who may have walked in at any moment.

“Maybe not while we’re in public,” you replied, managing to push him off of you – and ignoring his disappointed pout, “it’s highly unhygienic.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he countered while you busied yourself with the shower curtain which had one of its’ plastic hoops stuck on the rod and wasn’t moving.

“Well, then, don’t look so sad,” you said, giving him a look over your shoulder – immediately, he smirked at your tone – and tugging the shower curtain harder until it finally slid down the rod and separated the two of you from the rest of the room. “You should have been prepared for this.”

“You’re the one who has to be prepared for everything,” he pointed out. “I just go with the flow.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” you countered, crossing your arms. “As I’m sure you know by now—”

Not waiting until you finished lecturing him, Jungkook settled for the most childish way to change the topic and turned the shower on. You gasped in surprise when the cold water splashed you, soaking the front of your – his – shirt completely.

“Jungkook!” you scolded, jumping away from the direct stream of water while he, predictably, laughed.

“What?” he asked, all sugar and spice and everything nice. “We’re in the shower.”  

Then, to further prove his point that he hadn’t done anything wrong by getting you wet, even if you were still in your clothes, he turned the shower head towards himself and brought his hands through his hair until he was completely soaked.

You were frozen for a minute – which was exactly what he’d intended – watching Jungkook act out a shampoo commercial right in front of you.

“It’s not showering if you’re wearing all of your clothes,” you muttered under your breath finally, once you painfully tore your eyes away from the droplets of water that traced every crevice of his skin; a cascading waterfall that framed his half-naked body.

“Ah, so you want me to undress!” he translated excitedly and awarded you with a wink that could have made the devil himself flustered. “Should have said so from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t—”

Leaning down under the running water to take his boxers off, Jungkook promised, “your wish is my command.”

After a whole lot of giggling and slipping, and very little actual, legitimate scrubbing and cleaning, you and Jungkook walked out of the shower hand-in-hand, with smiles on your faces. 

The sight of the pure joy in both of your eyes as you crossed the hallway back towards your dorm room, left little to the imagination, but you did not run into anyone, so, for all you knew, no one, aside from the two of you, was aware of what had happened in the shower this morning.

In fact, you loved the idea that you and Jungkook were the only people here – there wasn’t a single passerby, a single (un)bothered observer, or anyone else who could have otherwise interrupted you two. It was just you and him. Finally, you-and-him.

“I’ve never lived in a dorm,” Jungkook said once you were back in your room as he used a separate towel to tousle his hair, splashing water around like a shaggy dog. “But I really enjoy the showers here.”

“You got to experience them at a good time,” you replied. “It’s a lot less fun when there are people in every stall.”

“Hmm, I bet. And less fun without me, too, yeah?”

You gave him a look as you unwrapped your hair from the towel on top of your head. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Me?” Jungkook feigned innocence. His angelic smile was a clear indication that some inane entity had possessed him today and he was absolutely not going to quit teasing you anytime soon. “I’m the most underrated—”

You interrupted, “self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

“—person there is. Hold on now,” he took a threatening step towards you, raising his eyebrows, “did you just call me inconsiderate?”

“Well, you rarely think about other people’s feelings when you do something,” you retaliated and Jungkook – who enjoyed the proud smirk on your lips, but only because he couldn’t wait to wipe it off with a kiss – pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“You mistake my intentions,” he said. “I always think about—”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-excuse. You turned around in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact, and Jungkook groaned in disappointment.

“Now who,” he demanded, “is bold enough to ruin my monologue about how caring and selfless I am?”

You scoffed, side-eyeing him before you reached for your phone and, much to your surprise, saw a text from Namjoon – who was wondering if you’d found Jungkook last night and if he was alright.

“If it’s Yoongi, tell him that yes, I’m avoiding him, and no, I’m not coming home today,” Jungkook said after noticing the way you bit your lip once you read the text.

“It’s not Yoongi. But you should probably call him,” you said absentmindedly as you tried to compose a text message that involved the right amount of gratitude for Namjoon’s help last night, but also just enough cold politeness, so that Jungkook wouldn’t have any reason to cause a scene. He already had a wary expression on his face after you said it wasn’t his bandmate who’d texted you.

Then, you stopped typing and raised your head to look at the boy, sitting on the bed across from you. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

He shrugged, lying down on your bed. “I’m staying here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did we agree on that?”

“Yes,” he replied, “with our bodies.”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure—”

“Oh, you can’t kick me out,” he said – ordered, really – as he patted the bed next to him waiting for you to sit. You did. He continued, “we’ve got so many things we still need to do. All of those movies we haven’t gotten to watch because we keep doing something else when we’re together,” pausing for a moment, Jungkook snickered, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something else again—did you just laugh at me?”

You bit your tongue, trying to conceal your smile, but the playful mood Jungkook was in amused you too much.

“I just exhaled,” you replied, returning your attention to your phone as you pressed send. “Now, what were you saying about—”

“Who was that?” he asked with a nod at your phone now that you’d finished typing.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, not because you hadn’t heard him, but because something about the way your heart skipped a beat at his question told you that he wasn’t going to like your answer, and you needed to win some time to find a way to soften the blow. “Just Namjoon. He was worried about you.”

Jungkook scoffed but, thankfully, didn’t immediately throw a tantrum.

“Doubt that,” he said instead, with dripping skepticism. “We don’t know each other, why would he care—”

“You went off-the-grid last night,” you said, aware that the patient voice you tried to demonstrate may have come off as accusing. That wasn’t your intention but, now that the conversation came up, you thought it was fair he knew that his actions affected more people than just you and him. “It doesn’t matter if he knows you or not. You could have been dead in a ditch.”

“Is that what Yoongi suggested?” Jungkook inquired in a disgruntled tone.

“No,” you said even though it sort of was. “But we were all concerned for you. Namjoon included.”

He rolled his eyes – partially because he didn’t like to be reminded of the hassle he’d caused last night, but also because he had a hard time believing that people who didn’t know him were genuinely worried about his safety, when his own friends, aside from his bandmates, couldn’t have cared less.

“I know you want to see the best in people, but—”

“I’m not seeing the best in him,” you disagreed, “in fact, we got into an argument at the barbecue yesterday and I realized that there’s more to him than I’d previously thought. But when I told him about you, he was really concerned. He’s the one who drove me back to campus to look for you.”

Digesting this new information for a moment, Jungkook swallowed.

Then, when you thought you were going to have to explain your decision to accept Namjoon’s offer to drive you home, Jungkook dismissed the whole thing.

“So,” he said, “Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was, then?”

“He—that’s not what I meant,” you replied, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, but suspicious when you saw Jungkook smile victoriously.

“No, I’m curious,” he encouraged, sitting up and scooting closer to you – so close, in fact, that you could see the glistening drops of water that he hadn’t wiped off from his chest, “has he let you down? Are you thinking you shouldn’t be friends anymore?”

Before you could be any more distracted – if not by his words, then by his glimmering skin or by his sneaky, yet lovable, smile – you cleared your throat and looked away.

“You need to call Yoongi,” you said, standing your ground, “or else you’ll be the one who won’t have any friends.”

“Eh, knowing me, that’s inevitable,” he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I just want to have you.”

Little needle stabs poked at your stomach after he said this. You blinked, preparing to answer, only to realize that his quick wit had momentarily rendered you completely speechless. Jungkook used that to his advantage.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” he said, changing the topic so quickly, it was like he had the attention span of a squirrel. “Do you have any food here?”

Deeply impressed with his determination to slither out of this situation unharmed – because Yoongi sure was going to rip him a new one – you stuttered, “n-no, wait. I mean, we have milk and—”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, nodding to himself. Then, he stood up from the bed and ordered, “get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Grocery—is that necessary?” you crossed your arms, watching Jungkook pace the room and, most likely, regret his decision to spray his own T-shirt with water because he did not have anything else to wear. “I always have cereal for breakfast.”

“It’s not just cereal we need to think of,” he pointed out, choosing to just settle for that T-shirt. It was supposed to be warm outside anyway. “We have to stock up on food so we wouldn’t have to leave this room for the rest of the day.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were serious about that?”

“I’m serious about everything,” he retorted and then, untying the towel on his waist in order to put his jeans on, he nodded at you and urged, “come on.”

Not moving one bit, you declared, “call Yoongi first.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“Call him now,” you insisted. “He’s been worried sick since last night.”

“He’s probably still hungover, I’ll call him later—”

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice firm. You didn’t want to enter another conflict with him but, now that you two were obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, it was important for you both that Jungkook actually took responsibility for the things that he did. “He didn’t sound drunk at all when he called me last night. Call him.”

As stubborn as he’d ever been, Jungkook shrugged – and then nearly toppled over as he lost his balance while pulling his jeans up his legs – and said very casually, “then maybe he was high and you couldn’t tell over the phone.”

You could have laughed at this.

“Oh, no, trust me. I’ve talked to a high Yoongi once before,” you said. “I can tell.”

He had several other arguments up his sleeve – excuses were his specialty – but you looked determined to shoot down every single one of them and, at the end of the day, Jungkook didn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing with you about this.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Give me five minutes and a soundproof room.”

You knew this wasn’t a compromise – Jungkook didn’t look like he’d changed his mind and suddenly understood that he had to do this; he looked like he was only doing this as a favor to you – but it was still something, so you crawled down the bed towards where he’d left his phone last night, and handed it to him.

“He’s not going to yell—okay, he probably is,” you admitted, “but you deserve it. Go talk to him in the hall, though. I’ll get dressed.”

This intrigued Jungkook and he took one last chance to stall, “ooh, can I watch?”

“No,” you answered and got off the bed, watching him buckle his belt. “You focus on your redemption.”

“My redemption,” he repeated, mocking the pretentious word and still refusing to move.

Ignoring that, you pushed him out of your dorm and into the hallway and, waiting for a second to make sure he really was dialing Yoongi’s phone number – “I’m doing it, alright? But if you’d rather I helped you get dressed—” – you shut the door and returned to your room to find some clothes.

When Jungkook returned several minutes later, he looked more solemn than when he’d left, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t too far gone.

“Did he give it to you good?” you asked, as you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Actually, I think he was holding himself back a little,” Jungkook replied, scratching his right ear to indicate just how much yelling he’d had to endure out in the hall. Then, inhaling and seemingly dropping everything he’d just heard, he asked, “so, you ready to go? I was thinking it’d be nice to have some eggs.”

You spent the rest of Saturday in your dorm room, being about as unproductive as it was possible for two people to be. You got through two movies (you’d tried to watch five; Jungkook had no patience to sit through the rest) and finished a full bag of popcorn (you’d opened three; the rest of it ended up on the floor of your room as you played a very unsuccessful game of throw-and-catch and then, consequently, throw-and-try-to-hit).

You lost count of how many tears of laughter you’d shed. Or how many times you’d punched his shoulder. Or how many times he cut you off with a kiss when you gave more attention to the movie than to him.

“You’re like a retriever,” you told Jungkook that night, when the two of you were laying on your backs, side-to-side, your hands and hearts intertwined. “You’re hyper-active, unpredictable, and you need constant attention.”

“Also self-absorbed, arrogant, and inconsiderate,” he added, mentioning all the colorful adjectives you’d called him over the course of this one day.

You exhaled in a half-snort, trying to pull your hand out of his, but failing when he refused to let go, pulling on your hand until you turned to your side to face him instead.

“Is there anything good about me?” he asked you.

You squinted. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Jungkook smiled, shaking his head. “No. I’m just asking. Because if there’s not, then why do you put up with me?”

“Because you’re trying,” you offered, “because you never give up. You work hard, you’re dedicated and determined. You’ve always got your eyes on the prize—”

He cut you off, “that sounds like the opposite of all the negative things you’d said about me.”

You didn’t see the problem there and you shrugged your shoulders.

“There are two sides to every coin,” you said, unsure if he expected you to shower him in compliments at all times, regardless if he deserved them or not. Actually, knowing Jungkook, that was probably precisely what he expected.

“You didn’t call me funny,” he pointed out then.

“Because you’re not,” you dead-panned.

Jungkook scoffed and looked away from you, declaring with great dignity, “I happen to think I have a great sense of humor.”

“You happen to think a lot,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered. “Here’s another one – you can always turn a negative situation into something better.”

Jungkook lowered his eyes to your intertwined hands, the smile on his face growing fainter, even if the atmosphere in the room remained as laid-back as before.

“Not always,” he said in a hushed tone, not daring to pose the risk of ruining the good-natured banter.

Even though he was careful, it was still obvious that you’ve hit a sensitive spot. Not having any intention to do so, you’ve brought back the fact that, in all twenty-three years of his life, Jungkook hadn’t managed to turn the negative opinion of his father into something better.

“But you always try,” you said, less confident now that you saw how easy it was to trigger something that was too big to fix with just a compliment.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” he said, purposefully avoiding sad undertones and, this way, making himself sound even sadder.

“And other times,” you argued, just as persistent as he was, “it’s more than enough. Stop painting everything in black and white, you always do that.”

Noticing that this was turning into a fight that neither of you would win, Jungkook looked at you with a half-smile on his face. “I thought I always turned the negative situations into positive.”

“You don’t do that when it comes to you,” you replied. “Your biggest flaw is being too hard on yourself.”

In the time that he’s been a member of Parental Advisory – and even before, when he was just an heir of a multi-millionaire – Jungkook had had nearly every single one of his flaws pointed out: none of them were new, he was already aware of them all.

He worked on some of them – the ones that he thought would genuinely help him improve: practicing new singing techniques, making sure his band was his first priority, learning how to communicate with his audiences and how to write lyrics that held more impact.

He’d never had anyone tell him that he tried too hard. And he’d never realized that that was true this quickly, either.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be someone who wanted to accommodate others. He never followed the societal standards if they contrasted with his wishes. He didn’t care about what other people thought of him; as it turned out, he worried about his own perception of himself instead.

“Maybe it helps me improve,” he said, not feeling like he deserved the credit for this particular flaw when he hadn’t succeeded in changing himself for the better yet.

“Maybe,” you agreed, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. “But give yourself a break sometimes. You’re really not all bad.”

“I needed you.”

You were teasing him and expected him to bite back in an equal way, but the serious tone of his voice took you by surprise. “What?”

“I needed you,” he repeated, “to be able to turn the negative into positive. You’re my better half.”

Despite the beating of your heart and the warmth that spread to your face and forced you to smile, you still shook your head.

“I’m not,” you said, meaning it, “you’re a full person. Not just a half.”

You thought he’d let go of you so he could protest and insist that he was right, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held you tighter and, for a moment or two, being pressed so tightly against each other really did make you feel as though you were two individual parts of the same set – good on your own, but great when paired together.

Jungkook didn’t let go of you the whole Saturday night or the next morning, or the afternoon. That made your normal, everyday functions very complicated – like brushing your teeth, when he was hugging you from behind and purposefully snoozing with his head on your shoulder – but you’d have been out of your mind to complain.

When you arrived to his parents’ house for your Sunday night dinner, Jungkook still had one arm around your waist, as if touching you came naturally to him and he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

As soon as his mother opened the door for you two, she could tell that there was something different about you – maybe it was the fresh glow of having spent the whole weekend locked up together, or maybe she could read your minds – but the wide smiles on your faces were too beautiful of a sight for her to question it.

“Come in,” she encouraged, “it’s lovely to see you, like always.”

“Ah, you’re here already!” Jungkook’s father climbed down the stairs just as you two passed the threshold into the house. Feeling the way Jungkook tensed – his usual reaction – you tried to make up for it by smiling widely.

“Hello,” you said, suddenly feeling ridiculous to be grinning like this for no reason.

“Son,” his father said, acknowledging Jungkook’s presence with a nod and earning one from him in return. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

You didn’t realize his question was directed at you so, for a moment, the four of you lingered awkwardly in the hallway while you waited for Jungkook to answer before you realized that, for one, Jungkook’s father had never called his son “dear”, and, furthermore, it was you who had supposedly gotten sick in the middle of the company barbecue this Friday.

“Oh!” you blinked, trying to remember if Namjoon mentioned what sort of illness he was going to give as your excuse. “Yes, thank you. I’ve gotten some rest and I-I’m much better now.”

“That’s good!” Jungkook’s mother said. Nor her, nor her husband seemed suspicious even though Jungkook inhaled sharply, attracting their attention. “We were very worried when you left early – if you’d stayed just a second longer, we could have driven you home ourselves, we were going to go back anyway.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, aware that Jungkook didn’t know about this part of your Friday night – he hadn’t asked if you’d left the barbecue early – and, evidently, learning of this right here, right now, didn’t exactly please him. “My friend from university was there and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to campus.”

Jungkook’s father cleared his throat – an involuntary reaction, similar to that of his son’s before – and gave you a kind, almost apologetic look, “if Jungkook had gone with you, he could have been the one who drove you home.”

That offended you as much as it offended Jungkook – but for different reasons. Jungkook’s dignity was obviously hurt because he had, once again, let his father down. But you were displeased because his father made it sound as though you needed a chaperone. As though you were some damsel in distress.

“No, really, I’m glad he didn’t go. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave early,” you ended up saying, your polite nature persevering. You could understand Namjoon a lot more now – it was easy to let your real feelings slip if you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying, but hiding them under a mask of good manners and respect, was far more beneficial in the long run. “And, actually, it was even better that he was back on campus, because he helped me out a lot this weekend. Really, I probably wouldn’t have recovered as quickly as I did if it weren’t for him.”

You weren’t just saying that to make Jungkook look better – but there was still gratitude in his eyes when you met his gaze – because he had truly turned your weekend into a time of healing just by spending it with you.

“That’s wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother was the one who responded – Jungkook’s father just smiled mysteriously – as she brought a hand through her son’s hair in adoration, “let’s head to the dining room now, alright? The food is getting cold. You can tell me how your semester’s going. I assume you’ve got finals coming up soon, isn’t that right?”

That was right – well, sort of; you still had about a month of classes left – and it prompted you to start a conversation about school, which allowed Jungkook to casually bring up the fact that he’d knocked his professors off their feet by passing all the tests that they had predicted he would fail. His father, of course, did not express his surprise or say anything encouraging, but he gave a very impressed nod and that was more than enough.

The dinner only seemed to last a few minutes – it flew by like it always did – and you found yourself in your already usual position: offering Jungkook’s mother to clean up, while she forbade you from doing anything and insisted you stayed back and relaxed.

Relaxing was what you and Jungkook had done here last Sunday – before his mother knocked on the door of his bedroom and interrupted you two – so, not very excited to have history repeat itself, you didn’t mind when Jungkook made an excuse to leave early today.

His mother seemed sad to hear that – dessert was just as important part of dinner as the actual main course – but she didn’t push you to stay. Maybe because she could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes and she knew him well enough to understand that, although he had a sweet tooth, her son would have gladly rejected dessert just to get to spend more time alone with you.

However, alone time wasn’t the reason why Jungkook wanted to leave early – you learned that as soon as you sat down in his car and saw his hand lingering by the ignition, not ready to put the key in just yet.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, already trying to analyze the dinner in your mind, hoping to come across a moment that could have stuck with him.

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said finally, “that you had to leave early. I’d assumed the barbecue ended and that was why you got back to the dorm.”

You lowered your eyes, realizing that your failed attempt to get to the bottom of things on Friday night – it was generous to even call it an attempt, considering that you were ripping each other’s clothes off within twenty minutes of seeing each other – had now caught up to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I got Yoongi’s call in the middle of dinner, and told him I’d go back to campus to look for you. He told me you went missing, I wasn’t going to sit around eating grilled sausages and wait for you to turn up.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jungkook was trying to talk to you about – he’d already put the pieces together – and, taking a moment to admit to himself that he did feel guilty about this, he exhaled before speaking again.

“You could have told my dad the truth,” he said. “Or you could have left without bothering with an excuse, he would have probably assumed it was my fault, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied, “you’re trying to make progress with your father. You may not be doing very well, but why would I halt your process? I’m on your side, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember. I’m just saying, y-you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to stand up for me tonight, either.”

“Technically, I did,” you replied, smiling now. “We started to go to these Sunday night dinners for a reason.”

For a good minute, Jungkook really struggled to follow your train of thought. Even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, these dinners with you had already become a part of his routine, so the fact that you were, theoretically, only here to prove Jungkook’s maturity to his father, seemed very obsolete now.

“Well,” Jungkook said, considering your new situation. Chuckling lightly, he added, “that’s stupid now, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be dating when we actually are.”

Catching the perfect opening, you teased, “we are?”

He gave you a look that dared you to test him.

“We haven’t been on one date,” you defended – sensibly so, really.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, wanting to point out the flaws in your words, but having a hard time finding any, because, in the normal sense of the word, you hadn’t actually gone on any dates with him.

“We went to my party last weekend,” he still tried, figuring that the term ‘date’, when used loosely, could really mean just two people hanging out together.

You scrunched your nose, enjoying this game. “Was that a date?”

“We spent the whole weekend together,” he tried again.

“Was that a—?”

“You are my girlfriend,” Jungkook cut you off finally, his voice forceful and determined. “And you have no say in that matter.”

He looked you right in the eyes as he said this – boldly challenging your undeniable authority over this moment in the car – and you tried not to, but still ended up laughing.

“You’re taking away my freedom of choice,” you said.

“Are you saying,” he asked in a teary tone because his go-to maneuver in cases like this, was extracting pity, “you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m not,” you replied, resisting him with surprising ease. You’d taken a page from his book and you were almost gloating as you watched how flustered he became with every word that you said, “I’m just wondering why you can’t ask me out like a normal person. Like someone who hadn’t known me for years.”

He observed your face for a second, making sure that you were serious – you were – and then sighed so deeply, it was like he was hoping to cleanse his dignity of whatever damage your words had done to it.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he asked, aware that you had turned the tables on him.

“Like what?” you were still grinning. You absolutely liked him like this. “Do you think you’re too good to ask someone to be your girlfriend? Is that beneath you somehow or—”

“I love you,” he said sternly, cutting you off so quickly and successfully that your throat dried up as soon as he said this. “Please be my girlfriend.”

Biting the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling at the juxtaposition of his pink cheeks and his determined eyes – while also, cringing at the cliché words that you’d forced him to say – you nodded and did not say anything else.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jungkook widened his eyes, scoffing in disbelief. “I ask you to—and you nod your head?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

Completely flummoxed, Jungkook examined your features without blinking or breathing. You really did have him right where you wanted him. If someone had told him that the reason why you stopped being friends once upon a time, was because he had too much influence over you, he wouldn’t have believed them.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said a minute later, shaking his head and putting the key in ignition before finally starting the car. “You have endless weekends like this ahead of you, try to keep me on my toes.”

This didn’t put out your fire as you continued, “is that a challenge?”

“That,” he said, his voice more promising than threatening, “is a warning.”

You laughed before relenting just because you didn’t think it was fair to have his confession linger in the air like that, “I love you, too, Jungkook.”

He rolled his eyes, backing out of the street where he’d parked his car. “Oh, now you say that.”

“Better late than never,” you pointed out in a laid-back tone.

“Better all the time than late,” he retorted.

“You’re needy,” you said.

Jungkook didn’t skip a beat as he drove down the street back towards your campus, and still found enough time to glance at you, “you’re uncooperative.”

“You’re prideful,” you shot back.

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re reckless.”

“I love you,” he challenged.

“I love you more,” you fought back.

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at this. “Don’t go there. I like to win and I am not above proving to you how much I love you the whole night tonight.”

A simmering fire in your stomach suddenly erupted into a bright flame.

“I have an early class tomorrow morning,” you said, more of a reminder to yourself than to him. “We both do, actually.”

He merely scoffed. “You think that would stop me?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Just drive. Like you said, we have endless weekends like this ahead of us.”

And, even though you’d spent the bigger part of the weekend bickering and bantering, teasing and playing, both of you felt yourselves smile at the prospect of getting to do this again at the end of the next week. And then, at the end of the week that came after that. And then, the week after that. And after that.

At the end of every week, really. For as long as you wanted – be it the rest of your lives, or until the world ended.

keep reading | masterlist

[dariaslore]

Birds

Set during the Coven's days. Griffin finds out about Valtor's demon form and things may be darker than they seem. Will she go away? Warnings: angst, dark stuff, some contents may be triggering.

She couldn't sleep.

He had told her he would be away all night, when dark magic was stronger and could be practiced at the highest levels. It was one of the many training sessions with his mothers, her presence wasn't allowed this time, the meeting was strictly reserved to the wizard and the three witches. At first they didn't take place frequently, but since a few months, now that the Company of Light was proving to be more of a threat, she had found herself spending more nights alone than usual, holed up in the mansion's library, waiting for his return. He came back extremely tired, without even the strenght to speak, his only desire was to lose himself in the night, hugging her like a safe port.

That night, too much time had gone by. It was three in the morning and he still wasn't by her side. Anxiety was devouring her, tossing and turning in bed, then she would get up and walk back and forth the room, trying to kill time. She would grab a book just to throw it away a minute later. Half a cigarette smoked, the rest was garbage, now she would light up a new one. She couldn't find peace, she knew the three witches and every scar on Valtor's body as well. They always wanted more and more and were never satisfied, he was up for anything just to gain a bit of their approval. And this was lethal.

She left the room they shared and, as her feet were pounding on the floor faster and faster, looked for the room where training usually took place. And there he was.

Gasping, hands shaking and her gaze caught by fear.

She opened the door. The pungent smell of iron flooded her nostrils. She decided to follow its scent. She felt her airway closing and blurring sight, icy needles paralyzed her heart. Her vocal cords refused to vibrate the unspeakable horror in front of her eyes. A connection had been cut off, her pulsating golden irises were screaming and the sound was dying inside of them.

She saw him tossed into the darkest corner of the room, like a used and forgotten toy.

Bowed head, his face hidden by his blond hair in an act of shameless shame. He was shaking, had goosebumps, and she could see his ribs move through the swollen white skin as he breathed. He had never looked so thin and frail, his figure so thin compared to the red scales that swallowed him bite after bite. They started sporadic from his chest and then slowly thicken on his arms and hands deformed into long claws. They painted the portrait of a beast and found maximum expression in the two huge red wings wrapped in a shield, protecting him from the cold of the outside world in an embrace. It looked like the monster was trying to save its own prey. It emphasized the misery, the greatness and strength of the red hunter and the labored breathing of its pale victim. Naked and with his back torn.

Blood overflowed copiously, snaked elegantly dragging its red vital flow downstream, it marked the grooves of his ribs and suddenly fell silent, insinuating itself between the inanimate tiles of the mosaic on the floor. His milky skin was imprisoned in a network of faults of flesh torn apart by the fiercest of beasts. It was scarred, its edges matched perfectly with the width of the claws of his hands, she could feel their power sink into his taut muscle fibers, stretch them to the ends like springs, and tear them away as waste material, a further obstacle to the main organ that he was burning to find. So he dug again, and again, in an unbridled greed for a proof of his humanity. The pain wasn't enough, he wouldn't stop until his claws gripped his beating heart. He had to tear the flesh, the dress of his existence that now felt too tight with the darkness that threatened to overflow and pick him up again in its coils.

"Go away..." he murmured.

Valtor had perceived her presence ever since she had stepped in, fear washing through her veins. She was the last person in the universe who could see him reduced to that. He trusted her, she had been the first person to dig under his surface of powerful narcissist wizard, making him discover a different person. Before her were all the things that weren't and would never be. He was never going to sleep with anyone, he did with her, he had never had a real friend, his mothers had taught him to calculate everything based on utility and how anyone was just a pawn on a chessboard. He had aquaintances, many flirts with countless women and men, and he was never the one in love. And neither were they. For each of his lovers he already knew, the moment when he left their bed, that all that would remain was one more meaningless hot night, an exercise of the word love. They all carried out in the same way, with an absence of words, and he was conscious of being but an object of lust due to his body and his power. And then, she came into his life, the only woman immune to his fiery charme and who even seemed to hate him. He had never spent an entire night on a sofa eating junk food and talking of the most diverse topics, he did with her. He had never received a hug, she hugged him, after a mission with a positive resolution. He never cared for the feelings of others, now he couldn't stand sadness to veil her eyes. She had occupied his heart and not only he loved her madly, she was also his best and only friend. He trusted her, but he didn't trust himself and the monstruosity living inside of him.

"Valtor..."

She couldn't believe it was him. She spelled his name with dragging slowness, almost reluctant to attribute the name of the man she loved to that foul creature. It was him, it had taken two words, a plead to walk out the door and go away.

"Griffin, please, go away, now."

"You're hurt" she said when the only thing her spinning mind could still focus on were his wounds.

"Go away!"

"I wanna help you."

A loud roar cut through the air, and she found herself on the ground, overcome by the power of his claws. It burned and shone bright red on her thigh between the silk of her nightgown, it wasn't too deep, a shallow cut. He had hurt her on purpose for the first time.

Another scream and another sob. Valtor was looking at his hands with wide eyes. He was forced to protect her in the only way his other self knew: violence.

"Are you happy now I've hurt you? Help me? Who do you want to help, a beast? I'm a freak. Look at me Griffin, look!" he cried amid sobs that threatened to suffocate him, too large and noisy that struck his lungs like prisoners in a desperate flight to freedom. A distorted chant broke his larynx, his swan song.

Lying on the floor with an itching cut and blurred thinking, she saw right through Valtor.

She had already heard of those feathered winged creatures earthlings believed in. She realized he was an angel. A fallen one.

He wasn't born for all of this. He was a creature of pure light bound to an eternal exile in darkness, and although the flame that burned within him tended to return to its original light source, it was held back by the iron fist of darkness. She was a creature of the dark too, a witch, but she had decided to be one, he was tainted and that made him the greatest shadow of all. The monster that enveloped him, moving the threads of his very existence, fed every day on the fiery light of his soul, now reduced to a mere flame. His monstrousness came from this destructive coexistence between light and dark, in which only one of the two would have definitively won. The flame burned, it couldn't keep silent and was responsible for his injured back. Darkness was close to him, so he had scratched it off, like a stain on a piece of precious silverware, he wanted to perform a desperate act of purification through his blood to finally wash himself away from the darkness and to get back to the pure light being he had always been meant to be. At least once.

It was written in his eyes which were shyly looking at her through his hair's wheat strands, although he tried to hide them under layers of ice and indifference. His pupils were imprisoned in a web of red capillaries, but they still managed to keep their last drop of pure humanity. It wasn't the same look he gave her every night as he adored her body, neither that of the sarcastic and ironic wizard, it was the one of every time his mothers would have criticized him, of when he tried in every way possibile to impress her, just to snatch her a compliment or a smile. In those moments he tore his heart out of his chest and fed it to his tormentor, craving for trivial affections.

She got up from the floor confident and proud, knowing what to do.

"Go away!" he yelled.

Griffin approached him ignoring all his moans and wrapped his face in her warm hands and traced every feature with her fingers. She felt the difference of texture between his skin and the red scales staining it. She stroked his nose, forehead and lips. She raised the corners of his lips, uncovering white fangs. She smiled and kissed him. Just a smack.

He was blown away, stuck in an idyll that tasted of her. Adrenaline was rushing, he had made it.

She grabbed his hand and looked him straight in the eye, the gold of her irises had never been so metallic. Maybe tired of lies, the purple-haired witch was so determined and a slave to curiosity that she delved into the darkest of truths, even one that would harm her. It wasn't over, she knew it. He was trying to play it cool, but with his eyes in a runaway dance and his smile crooked to the left, he had the classic facial expression of a child who had succeeded in getting away with something.

"Is that all? Is there anything else I should know?" she asked firmly.

That question was a cold shower. He shook his head. He was lying, there was so much more she should have known, the whole side of himself he never had control over. What she was seeing now was just a glimpse of the monster he saw every morning in the mirror, when all humanity crumbled to pieces and his eyes lost their pupils. But he still didn't want that kiss between them to be the last. She would have loved him until there was but a drop of man in him, but after that?

"You're lying Valtor. Show me, don't hold it back"

"Please, I can't!"

She would have run away. He was trying to become human again and she was asking him to show her the monster.

"Just do it!" she ordered, clenched fists and fixed pupils.

"Why are you doing this Griffin?"

She didn't answer him. She was emanating ice from all over her body, posture was stiff, back straight and lips tightened. She wouldn't give up until she got what she wanted.

He started changing, his body turning into the twisted fantasy of three long gone witches, and soon all human features were erased from his face. Stripped of his blond hair, abandoned to the ugliness of his inner skeleton. Now he was way bigger than her, the monster's palm almost the size of her entire face. All his senses were on the alert, looking for the easiest way to kill, the purpose for which it had been built. What she was in front of was a machine ready to kill, plus her neck was so thin.

She didn't even flinch. She did exactly what she had done beforehand. She watched the monster's facial expressions changing, how his blue stoney eyes were boring into her body, finding the most effective way to kill her. And then as if she had read his mind, placed that exact same palm she had held before around her fragile neck, playing the beast's game.

"It would be so easy, wouldn't it?

Damn, it would. The demon could feel her neck cracking under its strength and the air leaving her lungs in her last attempt to breathe.

"Squeeze, what are you waiting for?" she said giggling, but an invisible force was holding the creature back, incapable of applying any pressure. It screamed with rage, not realizing what was going on and why the smile on her face was getting progressively bigger and brighter. She enjoyed the fear flushing down her veins, it was too much to handle and that was making her steady. With her mind blank, she leaned over and with its hand still over her neck, kissed the creature on its mouth.

Leathery red scales began to retreat like clouds after a storm, finally letting his white skin breathe. The demon, his wings were gone.

Valtor broke down in her arms. He was too tired to express the growing happiness inside. He couldn't believe it, something like this had never happened before, getting rid of the other Valtor so quickly was an intangible dream. Everytime his mothers made him assume that form, he would spend hours of excruciating pain, waiting for the beast's claws to disappear. He holed up in the darkness, allowing himself to be consumed bite by bite, seeking in his mind an end to his labyrinth of torment. She had been the first one to get him out of there, a gleam of light at the end of the tunnel. He hoped it could've lasted forever.

He plunged into her eyes like a lost puppy, letting her capture his soul in her thick lashes.

"Don't I scare you? How can you kiss that beast? You must kill the monster Griffin, I'm begging you! Free me, save me, I can't bear it anymore! "

The more he tried to chase it away, the more he felt it crawl through his veins like a poisonous liquid. It was choking him from the inside, he could feel it making its way through his mind, it was making fun of his neurons in a black pool. He felt his head throbbing, unable to contain all that anger and hatred. He screamed in pain in a soundless space, one day he would tear his skull to pieces

"Where are you ?!" he said screaming at the top of his lungs. He couldn't see straight anymore, his whole body shaking with anxiety, blood rushing through his veins and his heart loudly pounding in his chest.

"Hush, I'm right here. I'm holding you, see?"

"D-don't leave ..." he begged her and rested his head on her chest.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you, look at me." She cupped his chin in her hand, so he could meet her gaze again.

"Come on, we must get to our room, your wounds are bleeding."

"Your thigh..." he glanced at her leg with his face twisted in horror. Guilt building up.

"It's just a scratch. A pinch of magic and it will go away. It doesn't even burn anymore!" Griffin tried to reassure him.

She concentrated and teleported them to their room in a quick snap of fingers.

"Can you stand up?" she asked him.

"I- I ..."

"Don't worry, I'll hold you. You can do it."

She put an arm around his shoulder and tried to hold him by the waist, taller and heavier than her, backing him was hard: she had to.

Valtor stood up. Pangs of pain. He was weak, his knees buckling, joints croaking, it was as if his bones were breaking from the inside out on by one. He groaned in protest.

"I know, hold on, it's just one more step."

He freed himself of her grip and met the soft mattress of the bed they shared.

Griffin helped him sit up, covered his lower body with blankets, then she placed her hands on his back, focused and chanted a spell. Wet: blood between her fingers. The magic tickled the torn cells giving them a smoother edge.

"I'll be right back." she said. Then she rushed to the bathroom and, in the wooden cabinet, she found a cotton cloth, some ointments, flasks and some bandages. His wounds were too extensive and deep, she had managed to stop the bleeding and somehow reduce their size, now she had to worry about disinfecting.

"This will hurt just a bit."

"Get your hands off of me, now!"

He spun around, his voice high and firm, swollen veins and a sunken neck. It was a defensive act, it seemed to her the desperate move of an hunted animal fleeing its tormentors, veins darting with fear and aggressive bearing, pretending to be the one who holds power. But she wasn't his mothers, she couldn't get upset, he wasn't lucid and this complete reversal of attitude was proof of that. He no longer held the reins of his thoughts, he was finally letting them gallop on their own, fragments of past and present intertwined together. He proceeded by associations of ideas in an increasingly blurred time boundary: the disinfectant burned like Tharma's lightnings on his legs.

"Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you." she said. She had all her senses alert, he approached her by burying his nose in the hollow of her neck, he smelled her skin, traces in the air, caught violet and amber.

"It's me. Look, it's just disinfectant." she reassured him by pointing to the bottle on the bedside table.

Valtor retrated, recognizing it was the woman he loved and not one of his mothers in front of him. His heartbeat became slow, shoulders down, now he almost seemed like a lifeless doll in front of her. He let her keep on her work without any complaints. She finished dressing, then she bandaged his wounds in deafening silence, she could only hear his breathing.

"Stay there." she whispered softly heading towards the little wooden cupboard in the room.

It had been her idea, she felt like a stranger in that house and the thought of going down four floors each time to get to the kitchen, risking meeting her witches, made her shiver. Of course, she was much freer than any member of the Coven, somehow the Ancestors respected her, listened to her plans and strategies carefully, never a word of mockery, all she had received in years of service was advice, few compliments and an expression she could not discern. They were alert, analyzing her, looking for flaws and weaknesses, Liliss stammered something out under her breath, the others two nodded. She felt watched, stalked, obsessed with the thought that sooner or later they would've chained her too in their perverse game. For this reason she avoided all actions, tried to keep relationships with the three as detached as possible, remaining a puzzle in front of the witch of illusions was her goal.

She opened the cupboard and placed the material on the table. She put some water in the electric kettle, opened the inlaid wooden casket and began to choose the most suitable herbs, lightly caressed each one, letting the fragrances dance in her lungs.

It reminded her of her dad, as she watched him as a child as he made her a cup of tea whenever she was down in the dumps. He caressed the herbs in his study with delicacy, immersing himself in the pungent smells, then he would call her beside him in that olfactory research, telling her the benefits of each plant and how to make the most of them, and it was the sharp rosemary for healing, mint for stress, balsamic anise. In that little corner of nature, with the well-known brilliant notes of the cedar peel and the skilled hands of her father who mashed the leaves, her mind relaxed.

She waited for the herbs to finish their brewing time, then she poured the tea into a white porcelain cup adding a teaspoon of honey.

"I made you some tea. It'll help you feel better. Open your mouth, please."

She softly blew on the cup, cooling it off just a bit, and brought it to his mouth. Valtor followed her command, the smell was heady, notes of lavender, hawthorn and red tea sang as the hot liquid ran down his throat.

When he had finished to drink, she put the empty cup away and wiped his lips with her thumb. She kissed him on the forehead and let him lay down, tucking the sheets.

"Griffin ..." Valtor suddenly mumbled.

"Tell me."

"I- I ..."

"It's okay, you can tell me whatever you want."

"Why are you not angry? I- I ... hid you a part of me."

She had no right to be angry. She couldn't be when those pure eyes were fixed on hers in search of certainties. He was looking for answers and confirmation in her words, when she at first still could not realize what she had just seen. Such nonsense could not be described and questioning was useless. What could be rational about the cuts he carried behind his back or the red scales that covered him? Nothing.

What was rational about the man usually full of himself who was now trembling with fear in front of her?

"Why should I-"

"You must be."

Rather, he wanted her to be. He wanted her to scream, spit every insult, every slimy truth, so that he could sink into the depths of his self-contempt. Yet, she was calm and taking care of him. He didn't deserve it and couldn't stand her stare full of love that should've been directed towards someone way better than him. He was a hero for trying to save her from the horror that bore his name and a coward for wanting her still by his side. She hadn't run away from fear and it pulled her even closer to his heart. It was killing him.

"I know, I should've told you." he continued. "My mothers created it, something I have no control over. They wanted to try a new spell today and things spiraled out of control and- "

"And you hurt your back." she said.

And it hadn't been even the first time.

He was 7 years old, missing incisors and messy blonde curls, when he used to curl up in a corner and gaze out at the sky and the garden below from the large living room windows. He envied the swallows, they were weak, tiny fragile bones destined for a meal to a larger predator, ephemeral existences with a noose around their necks given by the true and only mother nature, yet they sang, they whirled in the sky unaware of any danger in an eternal spring. It was the same with flowers, they would be waiting a whole year to show off their magnetic colors and then bound to perish in a sweet smell that penetrated his nostrils. They all died in a quick smile, almost a game of darts, they threw themselves at maximum power towards the target of no return, as if they didn't care about the ending, it was just a necessary condition for their fleeting beauty. They slowly went towards death not feeling its weight for their entire existence, nothing more than a momentum. Blink of an eye, his irises were now laying on the various paintings hanging around the room: Liliss had an obsession for art and each painting had to represent a specif mood of hers. There were battle scenes, clanging of swords, diaphanous women with bare breasts standing face to face with a young men gambling in the dim black of oil painting. Stormy seas, forests and then aimless flowers and seagulls. Why were they still? What had stolen their right to chase each other across the sky? Someone had decided to enchant them in a precise instant, in a fixed scene against their will, while their fellows whirled free. He felt sympathy for the water lilies forced not to close and for the always red apple stuck in the basket, perhaps because he himself was a still life, the flying, the wanting, the perishing were out of his will, the one of a lacquered image. It was crystal clear in the definition itself, still life, how could a being stained by nothing have vital momentum since its very conception wanted it still? He was still life. In a frame, sick with rot and alive in the stroke of the eternal puppet position imposed by his mothers. Rot bit into his bones, poisoned his nerves and threw them into a muddy puddle where the reflection did not match his will.

His child self decided he would free every little bird from the canvas and destroy all those paintings, he hated still lives, so he bit his lip as hard as he could until the taste of iron flooded his mouth. He moved on to something else, now the game was scratching his skin to color it pink, holding his breath with the utmost force. He learned to control his flames, wanted to test its power and chose his arms as a target. He was a teenager and as he shortened his hair with scissors, he thought what it must be like to stand in their place and be cut off. And he felt it on his skin. It wasn't like anyone would've noticed, the wounds merged with those inflicted by the Ancestors, leaving cords of raised skin. He was their toy, therefore he demanded to be broken and he would help them by making their job easier. Wasn't it what a good son must do?

"At least my blood is red, isn't it?" he said as he interrupted his flow of thoughts. Lips twisted into a sinister smile and wide eyes.

"Of course it is red, but what do you mean?" she replied bewildered.

"It's good news. I'm a beast, it could've been black or blue as well, but it is red just like yours."

His calm tone spelling poisonous words hit her like a shard leaving her heart shattered.

"You're no beast." she said.

"And what would I be if not a creature? These feelings, this warmth towards you, how do I know they're mine? How do I know they're not controlling me and you're just an illusion of Liliss? Are you real Griffin? Can you answer? "

His pupils dilated, he spoke to her in a swirling crescendo, his voice rose, it cracked, its rhythm accelerated hysterically, breathing short and broken, his fingertips digging deep into her arms' skin.

"You can't love me! You just saw it!" he spat out.

She stared in horror at the atrocity of those words. Reality was mangling her eardrums as a cat scratching on a chalkboard.

"Griffin, these eyes, this hair, are just a wrapper, a beautiful case for the most hideous of gifts. If I hadn't looked like this, would you have even looked at me? Would you have ever spoken to me or would you have run away?" he asked. He asked her what she would've done, when he was the one who wanted to escape the mirror every morning. He saw the monster chuckling there behind him, next to his immaculate reflection, laughing, enjoying the blond's stupidity for wanting to conceal his true essence, as if a line of defined eyeliner and eyebrows would've done the trick.

"You're still making questions." she whispered in wonder.

"I must know!" he screamed. "I need to know if you're willing to love a monster, because ... that's what I am."

Griffin cupped his cheeks, her hands so gentle and soothing, and she smiled, the most beautiful he had ever witnessed, a glimpse of light in the pit of darkness his life was.

"You're still questioning, Valtor. You're the answer. You want me to tell you that you are good, that you are a man, to confirm something that runs in your blood, and you still do not know what it is. The answer is your own self, in your doubts. You are worried, you are taking care of something and in this action there is humanity. I cannot give you the answers you are looking for, but I can say that I feel them here. "

She placed her hand on his heart.

"When the spark in you has gone out and your vocal cords no longer vibrate, with no doubt, you'll be a monster. Without even realizing it, you'll spread terror and death, emotions will be unknown to you. But you have those and they're beautiful. You're human, Valtor, this is why you hate the beast, hence you fight. But this back means giving up, these tears on your face, well, they're a victory. I hate the monster, as much as you do, but it's not the one with red scales and big wings. Your own monster is living inside your mind, it feeds off your insecurities and how I'd like to kill it off if I only could! Free you and look at the man, I can say it outloud I- I... L-lo-ve."

Her voice cracked, the word love hard as tears tried to find their way. She held them back and took his hand between hers, in what looked so much like a promise.

"Valtor, I'll never love the beast. I love you."

"What if I were to become one? Would you give up on me? Would you ever leave me in the dark, alone? You'll never leave, will you? Will you always be by my side? Don't lie, please."

The witch hugged him eagerly as her heart broke under the weight of the demons in his mind. The adult with the oversized ego had collapsed into a child to be protected.

She lay down beside him and slowly started stroking his hair, lulling him to sleep. Another sob.

"She left me Griffin, she left me alone in the darkness with that monster. I'm scared."

"Who left you?" she asked softly.

"Believe me, I was good, I had never done anything wrong. I was small, useless, and it was too strong, I couldn't beat it. I was afraid of the dark, and she wasn't there to protect me. So dark ..." he spoke feebly, he turned his head.

Eye frames the void, remembers a room with a forthcoming beast, roaring flames, pain. The vague phrasing, frightened of giving voice to his nightmares, chased his weaknesses with choked breath, tried to catch them one by one, but they were dripping off his lips.

"Who are you talking about?" Griffin asked shaking his hand, giving him all the courage to speak up his mothers never tried to give him.

"Mom." Valtor stammered, gasping. Without even the pronoun my, he was almost referring to entities out of time and space whose name trembled leaving his mouth. She knew he didn't have a mother, the blond man in her arms was a creation of the Ancestors, yet he was longing for a family, bonds made of genes and flesh.

"Mom left me and the darkness came for me. It was so cold, I couldn't move." Darts of frozen darkness, enveloped in himself like a shivering maggot. The creator speaks, the son obeys. The creator breaks his will, sets the rules, commands. Violence, punishment, obedience, blood and broken bones. The cold becomes stronger, snow cuts his face, the son gets tired, he begins to ask questions, he strives to know the purpose of everything. "Your purpose is us Valtor, without us you are nothing" Belladonna ruled.

No words, another cry that desperately asked to be given voice. He was hungry for love.

"I don't want to be a creation. I can't be their son, Griffin. I feel it, I sense it, even they are not that powerful to create life out of nothing. It's burning inside of me, I don't belong to this planet, Whisperia's not my home, but somehow I ended up here with them, the mighty son of the Three Witches. Maybe I wasn't a good child, was I? I wonder if she remembers me. I don't remember her, one moment she was there to hold me, the next she was gone. I can still imagine her touch and scent on my skin, I bet she smelled of roses, because I love roses, don't I? I ask myself where is she now, what is she doing and if she is proud me or if she ever loved me. But she's not here. Belladonna, Liliss, Tharma never left me, though. I know, they're definitely not the mothers of the year, but they never left me. I'm a weapon, I told you, the most powerful of them all, they can't lose me. They hate the man I am, but they appreciate the beast and therefore I'm sure they would never leave me.That's why deep down I think they may care about me, I got what they need. I love them."

He smiled as he tossed his head back among the silk cushions, knowing how much a fool he was making of himself. She was still there, strong and still as always.Trembling lips, every cell of her body was fibrillating, they wanted to detach from it and rush on him like thousands of shooting stars, build him a shelter, save him from his mothers and love him, giving him a bit of that care he had always been denied. She knew her love wasn't enough.

Meanwhile Valtor wondered how much easier it would've been to turn off the light and let himself be swallowed up in an endless dream. Darkness would become his new home, and without even the small glow of its flames, it wouldn't be dark anymore, just nothing. No sound, no fight. Maybe she could've been the one able of dragging him out the pit he had digged himself. He raised his head and tried to meet her gaze for the last time, his lids starting to feel heavy.

"Griffin I don't know how much longer I will be able to keep the monster away. That's why I need to know that no matter what you'll stay by my side. Will you? "

"I.."

Interrupted sentence.

He had already fallen asleep without even waiting for the answer to how much he wanted it to be positive. It was easier to unstich himself from reality and follow the threads towards the dreamlike enchantment, in which the canvas tapestry with their smiling faces imprinted would never unravel.

She sighed. It was her turn to cry now.

She didn't know. That was the answer that was so difficult for her and it was breaking her heart. All the words of courage and comfort that had come easily from her before were now dead in her throat, none of them were for her. She had seen his blood slipping right through her skin, she had touched what was the most intimate about him that somehow managed to appear so right as it sneaked into her bony hands. The red of his blood fingerprinted his pain, left her the keeper of what was dearest to him. As the sea after an undertow regurgitates its treasures on the beach, the darkness in him had left away the most precious of his secrets: she had felt his humanity, now it was up to her to decide whether to wash it away or dry it and no soap would have ever canceled it. She could not wash her hands, she looked at them in the twilight of the night, turned them again and again, searched for escape routes between the lines of her palms, but the more she squinted her eyes in search of a pattern, the further she was pushed away. He was now in her hands.

She threw herself into the silk of the bed and looked at him: eyes closed and his lashes tickled his cheeks slightly. How could a monster be so human? And she, how could she be so hypocritical, unable to give an answer and yet she was hugging him? And fuck, how much the cut on her leg hurt.

Perhaps their relationship was a ship on fire on the high seas. Water and fire, a beautiful tragedy to be consummated in sync until one annihilates the other. Water never dies, it changes shape. The heat of the fire would've forced it into crystalline darts that would hurt the sky like swallows at dawn.

She was a bird. A real one.

Birds fly away.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

---

tw: general howard stark warning

---

There is a buzzing by his ear.

At first, Tony doesn’t really notice it, waking up in short increments before being pulled back under. But he keeps waking, unsure what keeps tugging him out of his dreams, hand flapping around his face as he tries to stop the incessant ringing.

“Blergh,” he mumbles into his pillow.

Batting his hand around to quell the source of annoyance, he comes to grip his phone, squinting as it lights up inches away from his face and vibrates against his palm. For a second he thinks it’s his alarm, but then he remembers that he didn’t set one. It’s a succession of text notifications cascading down his screen that alerts him out of the slope of slumber with a start.

The only time his phone goes off like this is an emergency. The first thing he registers is that it’s only eight-minutes after seven. He blinks, sight clearing from the sleep wedged in his eye as he reads the flurry of still-incoming texts.

> so thanks for last night > yknow > for the ride > i mean > you know what i mean > anyway > so that folder i gave you had my BIO notes, not econ > im such a doofus > i need them back > don’t bother looking at them lol > can we meet up?

Tony groans, eyelids heavy as anvils. Jesus christ. He didn’t get home until four after dropping this guy off and he’s already up and bothering him? What gives?

Exhausted and annoyed, he tucks his phone under his pillow and sets it on do-not-disturb for extra measure. There ain’t no way he’s getting up at seven on a Saturday for fucking class notes. Prick.

In his opinion, he’s filled his quote of good deeds for the month and he doesn’t need to be up for another few hours. Whatever it is, he thinks, snuggling into his pillow, he’s sure it can wait.

---

The next time he wakes it’s just after nine. There’s a gap in his curtains allowing a sharp shard of sunlight into the room where it directly pierces into his eyelids. 

He groans tiredly into the drool patch on his pillow, willing sleep to come back to him, turning on his other side, gripping the edges of the quilt and tightening it around himself until he is firmly cocooned within it. It’s nice and warm, and sleep is such a rare commodity to him so it’s novel to bask in its dregs. But there isn’t any more sleep to come he’s quick to realize, giving up after a few minutes and blinking up at the ceiling. 

Nine is practically six. It’s criminal to be up this early.

There’s an unusual flurry of texts on his phone, some from Rhodey, but most of them are from Parker, an endless ladder of increasing franticness. 

Tony tosses his phone to the end of his bed carelessly. 

It’s been literally less than twelve hours since he’s had to deal with the shithead. Surely whatever was lodged up his ass couldn’t possibly be as important as Tony ignoring him. 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he stands and stretches his arms up high, fingers curling. The stretch feels good and he takes a quick sniff of his armpits to gauge if he can forego a shower for the third day in a row. 

The stench is wicked. It’s possible that he’s overdue.

He strips off as he heads towards the adjacent bathroom, naked and nursing a semi.

He can’t help but shudder as his back meets the cold tiles, the intuitive shower head following his body with a mechanical whir, miscalculating its aim and spraying him in the face.

Ah. That will need to be recalibrated, he notes. 

But, he can’t say he really minds, tolerating the spray, even as it hits his mouth like a fire hose. He ducks his head to wet his hair, reaching blindly for the touchpad to dial down the pressure. Once the water is to his liking he reaches down to take himself in hand, leisurely stroking himself.

It’s just a perfunctory part of his morning ritual; he doesn’t really have anyone in mind as he brings himself to full hardness, just the fleeting memory of lips around his cock, the next of a well rounded ass, not feeling particularly creative. 

Okay, so maybe he pictures some big, brown eyes and dark hair he can run his fingers through. And maybe he goes off like a rocket. That’s his business.

Anyway, once he’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he inspects his appearance in the mirror. The bruises on his face are still pretty gruesome, deep purple and beginning to yellow around the edges. The cut on his lip seems to be well and truly scabby.

Turning to the side, Tony takes observation of his overall torso region; his stomach is not as defined as he’d like it to be - probably due to his affinity for carbs and sweets, if he’s honest. Between a few fingers he can pinch the skin and pull it a little -- and look, he’s a bit soft around the middle, but he lifts, alright. Maybe he isn’t exactly steel cut like the dudebros on the football team who have made being ripped their life mission, but he has musculature under the adipose.

Is he a little self-conscious about it? Sure. Is he worried about it enough to give up garlic bread and cronuts? No. Especially when he spots a new chest hair nestled comfortably between his pecs.

Probably a bit too proud of himself because of a singular piece of hair, Tony gets dressed in a pair of jeans that have seen better days, speckled with singe marks and thinning at the knees and a singlet, slinging on his leather jacket for the finishing touch. 

He almost forgets the bot.

“Look at you,” he says, to the mangled mess of metal on his desk. Scooping the injured, beeping bot Tony stuffs it into his backpack. “Come here, darling. Shh, you’re okay.”

Peering both ways out of the hall to ensure the coast is clear, he quickly descends the stairs, shushing the bot the whole way.

On the ground floor, he pauses when he hears voices coming from his father’s office. It takes a second to recognise the voices, his father and Stane arguing over one another, loudly, then softly. He tries to listen in, catching somewhat audible hisses about the company finance officer.

Careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak he tiptoes to the kitchen to pocket a few muesli bars and a water bottle from the fridge. 

The voices get progressively louder as he sneaks to the front door, silently saluting their maid as he passes. She waves back at him, offering a sympathetic smile as he goes out the door. 

His heart pounds as he reaches his car, parked around the corner street. 

“Alright, baby,” he grins, revving the engine. “Let’s go.”

---

“The fuck?”

It’s hard to be sure, but perhaps Rhodey doesn’t expect Tony’s unannounced arrival at his front door. Not if the furious scowl and bunny slippers on his feet are anything to go by.

Nonetheless, he slips past the front door, welcoming himself into his friends home, despite the exasperated outcry of for fucks sake Tony, it’s Saturday and it’s not even noon, can’t you call ahead? 

No, he can’t call. Well, actually, he reconsiders, heading down the hall to the basement, his friends footsteps echoing behind him, he probably could, but it wouldn’t make anyone less mad at him, so what’s the point?

Besides, judging by the empty driveway and barren living room, Rhodey’s family is already out, he’s not sure what the issue is.

“The issue is I am tired, man,” his friend complains, following him down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Me too, honeybear, freakin’ exhausted,” Tony mutters, skipping down the stairs. “Go back to bed. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Oh sure, and let you solder your fingers together again. Nah. Not taking the fall for that.”

“I’m not going to solder my fingers together. I’m a pro.”

“Unless you need me to remind you of last summer,” Rhodey takes a seat at the workbench, “I suggest you shut up.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Tony asks, retrieving the bot from his backpack and setting it upon the bench. “I’ll have you know that I’ve learned since then.”

“And yet you still refuse to wear gloves,” his friend sighs, settling heavily upon the adjacent chair. There’s a comfortable quiet between them while Tony works, carefully settling all the pieces onto the table, moving each with care.

It’s hard to miss the weight of observation on the back of his neck, but he lets his friend drink his fill before he’s ready to speak.

“You fuck up something?” He points to the bot.

Tony shakes his head, pressing the solder into the circuit board. “No. Well, yes. The coding is perfect, as usual, but this idiot isn’t any smarter than a Roomba. He’s meant to be smarter.”

“So?

“He is smarter. I dunno, sometimes he messes up,” Tony mumbles, reaching blindly for the bent-nose pliers before Rhodey places it in his hand. “He’s not bad, just dumb. It’s not his fault.”

“And again, what happened? Did you run him over?”

“No, the old man got sick of me playing with ‘toys’. Dumb-dumb here met the wall in a very dramatic fashion. It was an Oscar-worthy performance.”

There’s a sigh from behind him.

“Does that explain your face?”

Tony glances behind him and smirks. 

“You mean my dashing good looks?”

“Tony.”

“Honestly? I got into a fight with a feral racoon that ran off with some old lady’s purse. It nearly cost me an eye, but I saved the day. She called me a hero, gave me some stale crackers from her purse and then gave me her number.”

“Tony.”

“Fine. I was skateboarding. I was in the middle of executing a super complicated kickflip but lost control when an enlarged gutter rat scurried in front of me. I flew headfirst into the gravel. Very embarrassing. That work?”

“Tony.”

“Look, just leave it will ya? God, you’re like a nagging wife. Pick whichever story makes you feel all nice and fuzzy inside.”

Rhodey is suddenly before him, waving something in his face. “Your phone, jackass. Your better half is calling?”

Huh?

Tony blinks, gently setting down the pliers and the chip he’d removed, taking his phone. It vibrates, Your Better Half flashing across the screen. 

“Parker, ugh.” 

He really should have changed the contact name by now, he thinks, swiping to answer.

“Alcoholics Anonymous,” Tony answers by way of greeting. “How may I direct your call?”

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole. So you are awake. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning.”

“I know. I’m beginning to think you actually might have separation issues,” Tony says. “I just got rid of you like eight hours ago.”

“I’m calling about the folder. Didn’t you read my texts?“

“Oh, I read them,” Tony settles back on the stool and continues to work on the main circuit. “See, I was just ignoring you. Hoping you’d take the hint, but I forget subtlety is lost on you.”

“Look, I need my notes. Can we meet up?”

“Right, for Bio,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Can’t it wait until Monday?”

“No. I, uh -- I have a test first period. I need to study for it.”

“Uh-huh. Just remember, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. You’ll be fine.”

“I take AP Bio, asswipe, I’m aware of that. Can I just get it back, please?”

“You take AP Bio? Was that an admin error or something?” he asks, holding the chip he’d retrieved earlier up to the light to inspect for any damage. 

It looks to be ok. The damage to the bot overall seems to be mostly cosmetic, couple of scratches, a few dents. Nothing that a few replacement panels wont fix. Whatever he hasn’t already got stored here Rhodey will surely have spare parts, it’ll be fine. God, what would he do if his friend didn’t lovingly tolerate Tony using his space for storage and barging in whenever he lucks. It’s lucky Rhode’s parents are so chill though, unlike his own. He may be a hot-head but he’s practically a saint compared to -

“ - hello? Are you still there? I can hear you breathing.”

Tony blinks. “Right. Your notes. Look, I’m kinda busy. I have a life outside of you and I don’t actually care about your academic integrity, so, you’re gonna have to wait.”

“For how long?”

“I’ll drop them off this evening, like six-ish. Hey, maybe we could do that interview with May if she’ll be around.”

“...I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“C’mon, I already told you I’m not actually hot for your aunt. I’ll be professional.”

Rhodey shoots him a bewildered look.

“That’s not what -- look, whatever. Just don’t be late okay. I have a life outside of you too.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. I’ll try and not get in the way of your weekend plans of crying while you masturbate.”

“I literally hate you.”

“And yet you aren’t denying the crying. Anyway, I have to go now, try to clean yourself up before I get there. See you at six, bubby,” he hangs up, cracking his neck before refocusing on his mangled creation. “Now where were we?”

“What the fuck.”

Tony pauses, pliers in hand. There is a particular expression on Rhodey’s face erring on the side of confused and haunted. 

“What?”

“’Bubby’?”

“Don’t say it like that - it’s like an inside thing. Don’t repeat it to him, alright, he’ll get pissy. And then I’ll get pissy.”

“You know it’s just a project, right? You two aren’t actually married.”

“Thank god. Could you imagine being married to that guy?” Tony shudders. “Scary.”

“Two weeks ago you said he was the bane of your existence. Now you have ‘inside things’ with him? You saw him last night?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping. Yeah, he doesn’t really have a good explanation for any of that. 

The thing about himself, Tony’s found over time and trial, is that he really, really likes to press buttons. He likes to test variables, wants to see what would happen if he did something he wasn’t supposed to, and map out the world as it occurs in motion around him. Curiosity means he likes to test the parameters, to see what can yield, what will bite back.

More often than not that kind of impulsive brand of curiosity has gotten him in some sort of trouble. Turns out not everything and everyone appreciates being tested - and many things like to lash out when pressed.  

Parker, Tony has found, is somebody that doesn’t yield or bite. If Tony was a betting man he’d have placed his money on the boy being more of a yielding type - but what he does is he presses buttons just as much as Tony does, buttons he didn’t even know he had to be pressed. 

And that very much interests Tony.

He just doesn’t know what to do with that information, except to keep pressing.

“I’ll explain later,” Tony promises, mentally crossing his fingers. “In the meantime, can we forget about Parker and focus on my broken baby here?”

Rhodey relents, but Tony knows that look in his eye. He’ll be hearing about it later and at the most inconvenient time. And he’s gonna tell Pepper.

Wonderful.

He really should change Peter’s contact name in his phone.

---

By the time he leaves the Rhodes residence and heads to his next destination, his robot is in somewhat in working order again. It remains fairly immobile though, just until Tony can replace the damaged infrared and touch sensor. It clicks its metal claws sadly towards Tony in the passenger seat as he drives.

It’s a Roy Orbison kind of day, so the music is loud and the guitar is heavy as he makes the drive to Harlem.

And if Tony frees a hand to pat the bot on its’ metal head every so often, that’s his business.

When he reaches the other side of the city he parks in his usual space at a nearby lot and contemplates whether or not he should leave the malfunctioning bot in his car for the sake of being professional. It clicks at his jacket, weakly grasping the material as if on a plea - and damn, Tony knows the thing isn’t actually sentient but what kind of asshole would he be if he left it here for the day.

Heart squeezing with sympathy, Tony delicately places him in the backpack, leaving the zip partially open for ‘air’.

Next, snacks.

While he’s retrieving a pack (or two) of Reeses, he comes across Parker’s folder that he’d stashed there last night. Their conversation from earlier returns to the forefront of his mind.

Look, Parker might not be the knuckle-dragging, monosyllabic dumbass Tony initially suspected that he was, and yeah he was savvy as demonstrated during their trip to the rental market - and yeah, definitely smarter than his social circle would suggest, and is absolutely and a source of constant surprise to Tony - but is he AP Bio - or AP anything material? 

Time to find out.

The first thing that Tony notices is that the notes are definitely not for Bio. They’re for Econ, as initially prescribed. 

The second thing he notices, as he flicks through the papers, skimming over the complicated graphs and annotated research, is that what he’s reading is actually good. 

Well, I’ll be darned, Tony thinks, eyes getting progressively wider as he flicks through the pages. Not bad at all.

Makes him wonder why Parker thought he was missing his Bio notes though.

The answer to that becomes clear when a crumpled envelope falls out of the stack onto Tony’s lap. He picks it up, at first thinking it’s a part of the research, but pauses. It’s open and it’s addressed to May Parker.

“Um,” he says.

It’s from Queens Presbyterian Hospital, which should make him drop it as if it were burning. It doesn’t, though. Either it’s meant to be included in the folder, or it’s not and that’s why Parker has been acting like a crazy-ex all morning.

Hmm. Tony sits there, torn, debating whether or not to look into it, the overdue stamp standing out against the crisp paper like a warning sign. On one hand, he’s running kinda late and, y’know, privacy or whatever -- on the other, his fingers are already itching to know what’s in it.

Mind your own business, he can already hear Rhodey saying, mind your own business, Tony.

Curiosity and a distinct lack of a moral compass wins, as always. Just a quick peek, that should be okay, right? The envelope is already open anyway, so, it’s not like anyone will be able to tell.

God, this is none of my business, he tells himself, even as he’s retrieving the letter from within and starts reading it. 

Oh.

Tony quickly stashes the letter back into the envelope and back into the folder. Yep, definitely none of his business. 

Yeah, he really shouldn’t have done that. Big fucking yikes on his behalf. And yep, there’s the guilt -- or at least he thinks the stomach churning is guilt, it could be the stale muesli bar he ate on the way.

Nonetheless, it hangs over him like a dark cloud as he picks up his backpack and heads out to the garage across the road. What kind of asshole looks into someone’s mail because they can’t help themselves. This dick, that’s who.

Fixing a grin he doesn’t really feel, he heads to the back office. He knocks on the window, ducking his head into the open door.

“Yo,” he waves to the man sitting behind the desk. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey kid,” the man looks up, smiling before his face drops. “Tony, your face. What happened?”

“This? It’s nothing --”

“-- is that why you couldn’t come to work yesterday? Not that I mind,” the man stands up. “Are you okay? Was it --”

“-- Was it nothing to worry about? Absolutely,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Just an unfortunate encounter with a wild, feral squirrel in Central Park. I tell you, they’re deceivingly cute, but they’re pests. Totally out of control.”

“Tony.”

“Jarvis,” he interrupts, gesturing to the cars in the garage behind him. “C’mon. Look, let’s get to work, okay? Save the violins for later.”

And by later he means never.

The man sighs, world-weary, looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. At first he’s certain his boss is going to push the issue, but it must be a day for dodging bullets because he relents.

“Alright, kid. I got a ninety-four Ford sedan back there with your name on it. Busted fan belt, overheated engine. Probably needs a new set of spark plugs while you’re at it.”

With a grateful nod, Tony heads back, locating the vehicle in question. It’s rusted to all hell and probably not worth the cost of repair, but he gets stuck into it anyway, keen for a distraction. He sets his bag and bot down near him while Jarvis blasts Alice Cooper’s Poison.

Tony might not have all the answers to life’s problems, but this is something he knows how to fix.

---

He probably distracts himself a little too well, because by the time he’s wrapped up with the Ford it’s already five-thirty and he’s a mess of engine oil and coolant.

It’s only when Jarvis squeezes his shoulder and points to the clock on the far wall does he realise that he’s lost his sense of time. How the fuck is he supposed to clean up and get all the way from Harlem to Queens at this time of night?

“Ah, crap,” Tony mutters, setting down his socket-wrench in his toolbox. “I’m late.”

“Late for what? You got a hot date or something?” Jarvis asks, stepping back to give him some room as he rushes to the staff bathroom. 

“What, no,” He calls back, running the faucet and pumping soap over his hands. “I gotta go see about a guy.” He struggles to hear his boss over the running water but he doesn’t have time to stop and figure it out. 

“From school?”

“Yes, and a prime pain in my ass,” Tony mutters, drying his hands on his jeans, walking back into the garage. “Anyway, see you Monday, chief?”

His boss nods, passing Tony his earnings for the week in cash. Tony should have known to dash and run because he starts hearing the proverbial violins when Jarvis clamps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a way that is more paternal than Tony is comfortable with. 

“You know you can call me, you have my number. You come up and see me and the missus whenever you want.”

Tony fake snores.

“Jarvis.”

“We have a spare room,” he insists, shrugging sheepishly and stepping back. “It’s yours at any time.”

“I see you enough, okay, don’t push it. I’ll see you Monday,” Tony draws him into a one-armed hug and claps him on the back. “Don’t you worry about me.” 

“Don’t make me worry.”

“No promises,” Tony salutes, slinging his backpack on shoulder and walking backwards out of the garage to the street. “Hug the missus for me.”

Jarvis salutes back. 

With that he sprints across the street when there’s a gap in traffic, bot snapping gently at his hair as he runs.

Sweaty and sore, he is full of energy, a sense of accomplishment coursing through his blood, like an afternoon of work can only provide. He should fire off a text, he thinks, as he starts the ignition and heads out onto the road, yeah. Let Parker know he will be late.

And he does genuinely mean to send a message at the next traffic stop, but then Queen starts playing on the radio and Tony isn’t a fool, okay, he turns that up loud.

Next traffic stop, he promises himself.

---

“I’m beginning to think you can’t read the time,” Parker opens the door with a scowl. “You said six.”

Wincing in the hallway, Tony looks at his phone. Six-fifty-nine. It’s not totally his fault, okay. There was a pile up along the way and traffic was a nightmare of  ridiculous proportions. He swears he’s gonna be the first person to invent a commercially viable flying car just for the sake of personally avoiding road congestion.

“Yeah, so. Here’s the thing: I had things to do, okay, priorities --”

“You and your priorities, I swear to god --”

“Here,” Tony cuts him off, passing him his folder, letter neatly inside where it isn’t going to obviously slip out. “Your folder, dumbass.”

Peter grips it, holding it to his chest as he stares at Tony for a moment, before passing it to the nearest flat surface, a weathered and small table that holds their keys.

“Okay, thanks,” Peter nods, smiling grimly, looking behind his shoulder. “Appreciate it. You can go now.”

“So where are the Econ notes,” Tony blurts, wincing as he plays dumb. “I mean, if you had something prepared.”

Peter blinks, surprised. “Oh, uh. Um, It can wait until Monday, can’t it?”

“The assignment is due Wednesday.”

“Right. Um, just give me a sec --”

“Is that Tony?”

May appears behind Peter, smiling brightly. Tony waves, rocking back on his feet. 

“Hey, Missus Parker.”

“Hey there, handsome,” she hip-checks her nephew, joining him in the doorway and glancing between the two. “You didn’t mention we were having company tonight, Pete.”

“He’s not handsome and he’s not staying --”

“-- I was just dropping something off,” he looks to Peter. “And excuse you, the lady has spoken and I have to agree. I am handsome. Some might even say that I’m debonair.”

“And some might say that you’re deplorable.”

“Hmm, I think you mean adorable.”

That prompts a smile out of Peter. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his chin up, all haughty.

“Tony Stark, you are many things, but adorable isn’t one of them.”

He leans in, pouting playfully. “Oh come on, Parker. I’m a little cute, aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Uh, let me check,” Peter pauses before smiling sardonically. “Verdicts in - jury says you’re one-hundred-percent despicable. Sorry.”

"I’m sure I could sway the jury.”

“I think you mean you could pay the jury.”

Tony nods, pretending to be serious. “Well, yeah. You know, for consensus.”

Peter licks his lips, shifting closer.

“Consensus is important...”

“...Well, if you two are done,” May says after an extended period of silence, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “We were just about to head out to a Thai place around the corner. Tony, you should join us.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I should go --”

The rest of his words are cut off by a truly monstrous growl of his stomach. He winces, scrunching up his nose sheepishly. He probably should have eaten more than Reeses all afternoon.

“Well, I guess that settles that,” May says, stepping out of the doorway and beckoning Tony in. “Come in. Sorry about the mess.” 

It’s with Peter still staring at him that he reluctantly enters their apartment, brushing past the other boy. It looks the same as it did the other week, mostly tidy and smelling like incense. There’s a sizeable stack of unfolded laundry on the dining table, however, that wasn’t there before. 

Tony’s distracted by a pair of dancing-bulbasaur boxers sticking out of the pile when May leans in close to sniff at his hair. 

“You’ve got something in your hair, honey. Is that paint?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, palm coming back streaked with green. “Oh, uh, radiator fluid,” he explains, holding up his hand. 

“Can I ask what you did to your face?”

“I saved a homeless guy and his beef-sandwich from a pack of rabid, angry dogs. No need to call me a hero.”

May looks at him oddly. “Oh, well, if you say so. Go get yourself washed up and we can head out.”

The burn of Peter’s stare follows him all the way to their bathroom.

---

The meal is less awkward than Tony thought it would be.

Well, for him at least.

Over larb and khao pad they’d gotten through an informal interview with May about her experience as a caregiver with a single income. Not only was it informative for his own future financial independence, but she has been generous enough to speckle in colorful anecdotes of her nephew’s upbringing. Parker’s face has been getting progressively redder all night and it has nothing to do with the spice in his food.

Tony has enjoyed the evening thoroughly.

“ - and of course, we were lucky we hadn’t decided to go cheap on the health insurance. Especially when Pete here broke his wrist at gymnastics when he was eight.”

Tony barely holds back a snort. 

“You did gymnastics, Parker?”

Peter tips his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighs. The flush seems to be creeping down his neck too, Tony observes gleefully. He stuffs a large mouthful of rice in his mouth to mitigate the urge to tease. 

"Yes, he was very good, weren’t you, Pete? So talented, you should see his medals.”

“Stop, please.”

“C’mon, no need to be embarrassed, Pete, you were amazing,” she says. “You’re still a flexible little bug, aren’t you?”

Tony chokes on his rice.

Peter has his eyes squeezed shut and looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

“May, I’m literally begging you.”

“Uh,” he beats at his chest with his fist, swallowing roughly. “So how long did you do that for?”

“Until I was fourteen.”

“Why’d you quit?”

There’s a very deliberate, weighted pause. May and Peter share a look between them and Tony gets a deeply uncomfortable sense that he’s just stuck his foot in it. Retract, he thinks, already regretting opening his mouth.

“Well,” May clears her throat, her tone light. “After my husband, Pete’s uncle Ben died, we moved away and we had to make some... financial cuts at the time.”

The bite he’s just taken goes to ash in his mouth. God, he really is a big idiot isn’t he. He’d assumed that May never got married to the man in the photos or that they’d just divorced, he didn’t realise that he’d passed - and so recently, too. Welling up with shame, he can’t stop himself from glancing at Peter, who’s staring at the table, lips pursed.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” May waves her hand dismissively, but her smile is strained. “Anyway, what about you, Tony? You’re severely asthmatic, right? That must have been hard, growing up if you wanted to play sports.”

Tony’s eyes widen.

“Yes, um, so hard. Luckily I’m not really an exercise-y kinda guy. I personally prefer to keep a heart rate below eighty beats per minute.”

“Did you have any hobbies growing up?”

“Yeah, driving my parents crazy,” Tony says, glad for the shift from the somber topic. “Escaping from nannies, seeing how quickly I could get them to quit.”

“You like tinkering,” Peter says quietly, looking up. “You mentioned, before. Cars and stuff.”

He shrugs, starting to feel as if he’s under the microscope, especially when Peter looks at him, eyes glittering with thinly-veiled interest. 

“I mean, I don’t know. I like - building stuff, I guess. Machines and robots, y’know, cars. It’s like, whatever.”

“You want to be the next Elon Musk or somethin’?” Peter asks, not unkindly, resting his chin on his hand.

“Nah, I wanna be the first Tony Stark,” he scratches his cheek, suddenly bashful. It’s an uncommon feeling for him. One hard to avoid, however, particularly when there is a boy who Tony doesn’t really hate who’s asking about his life like it might matter. 

He clears his throat. “Anyway, mostly it was just me cataloguing all the ways I could make the vein in my fathers’ head pop. I’m still working on that.”

May looks between them, smiling.

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

“Sure was.”

Still is, apparently, no matter how much he tries to stay out of the way.

The silence that follows is punctuated by the sounds of cutlery scraping across plates, of shrinking ice cubes rattling against glass. It feels pensive at the same time as it does thorny, like Tony opened the door to let someone in but accidentally let out a few ghouls.

And despite knowing he’d stepped on a landmine with the Parkers, he can’t help but wonder what other pieces of the puzzle he’s missing. Why Peter doesn’t live with his parents. Not that Tony is invested in him or anything.

He just doesn’t like mysteries, that’s all.

May excuses herself after to head to the bathroom not long after. It’s during that time that the waiter brings the check, which Tony takes immediately, slipping in some of the cash he’d gotten earlier, despite Peter’s protests. He was gonna do it anyway, even if he didn’t have the letter in the back of his mind.

“Stop paying for me,” Peter says after he passes the check-book back to the waiter. “Your family is rich, I get it. I’ve told you, I don’t need your charity.”

Tony shakes his head. It’s not worth mentioning that the only money he spends doesn’t come from his family.

“It’s not charity. Do you really think I’m that nice, eh? C’mon. Maybe I like lording it over you.”

“Well, at some point I’m going to pay you back.”

“And when that time comes I’m not going to accept your money.”

“You will,” Peter smiles wryly down at his plate. “I have my ways.”

“As do I, sweetums. Now, do me a favour: shut up and finish your larb.”

Peter does, but something about him shifts. It seems more quiet and contemplative, his eyes staying longer on Tony than they normally would. He wants to tell him to take a picture, but for once, Tony thinks it’s probably best if he keeps his mouth shut.

---

Back at the apartment, Peter goes to retrieve his ‘Econ notes’, taking the folder from the table and retreating to his bedroom. In the interim, May offers to let Tony stay over, inviting him for what he’s sure would be a rousing game of Mario Kart. 

He politely declines.

“You sure? Winner gets to choose a movie.”

“I should really get home,” he says. “Thanks though. And thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Thank you for paying, you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back.”

“No need. Think of it as payment for your services and letting us pick your brain tonight.”

She reluctantly accepts with a lot less pride than what her nephew displayed and that makes Tony feel a little sick, because it’s evident that she’s a proud and stubborn woman by nature. Her acceptance, albeit laboured, speaks volumes as to the reasoning behind it.

What takes him by surprise is when she hugs him goodbye and kisses his cheek.

“You’re a good egg, Anthony. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

It’s probably the most maternal touch he’s had since, well. Probably since he last went to stay with Jarvis and his wife. Fidgeting in the hold, he’s not sure if he wants to squirm or to sink into it.

May leaves when Peter comes back in, a familiar stack of notes in his hands that he passes to Tony.

“You gonna kiss me goodbye, too?”

“What?” Peter blinks.

"Uh, never mind,” Tony waves the papers at him. “Thanks for this.”

Peter looks around to make sure they’re alone before leaning in rather promptly. 

“Wow, hold up on the proximity there,” Tony inches back, startled by their sudden closeness. “I was joking about the kiss --”

“You read the letter, didn’t you,” Peter whisper-hisses.

“What? Letter? What letter?” Tony says, voice strangled. “I don’t know of any letter.”

He gets a painful poke in his chest for his lies.

“Don’t play dumb. It wasn’t where I left it.”

“I’m not -- ow, quit poking me.”

“Then stop lying. You’re unbelievable -- don’t you know that opening someone else’s mail is a crime?”

Tony’s shoulders slump as he concedes.

“Look, it was an accident, it just slipped out. And also, it’s not technically a crime, if the envelope was already open.”

“Oh and the letter magically opened itself and forced you to read it.” 

“That could be argued.”

“Why couldn’t you mind your own business?“

Sick of being poked, he shoves the papers between his arm and his ribs to hold them and takes Peter’s fingers in his hands, squeezing the digits when they struggle to break free of his hold.

“I should have, I admit it - I didn’t think, okay, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”

Peter stops struggling, looking over his shoulder again.

“I don’t know,” he leans in again to whisper, “I only found it yesterday, I haven’t spoken to her yet. Look, I know you hate me, but can you please not tell anyone about this?”

“Why would I tell anyone?”

“I don’t know, because you’re the devil, and you get a kick out of seeing me suffer?”

“True, but I’m not going to tell anyone. Promise. That would make me look like an asshole and you like a martyr. Ergo, I shut my cake hole and continue looking better than you.”

“You’re a real prince charming,” the other boy huffs, but seems to take him at face value. “If I find out differently I’m going to come after you. You’re going to need dental work afterwards.”

Tony lets go of their joined hands, balling his fists and raising them to his face, mimicking what the other boy had done last night. 

“You wanna tousle, huh?”

He gets a light shove out the doorway for his attitude.

“Alright, smartass. Get the fuck outta here already.”

“Going, going. Goodnight, princess.”

He mock bows, peering up under his eyelashes, momentarily arrested as he watches Parker roll his eyes and bite his bottom lip in an attempt to smother a smile. 

His heart continues to beat a bit oddly all the way down to the car, where he sits in contemplative silence for a few moments until the sound of metal clicking shifts him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, hey you,” he coos, gently retrieving his bot from his bag and placing it in the passenger seat, instantly feeling bad. “I didn’t think I would take so long. I’m sorry.”

Placing a seatbelt over the bot and buckling him in, Tony begins to narrate his night to him as he pulls off the curb and begins driving.

“I guess that Parker isn’t so bad,” he tells the bot, who swivels its head in response to his voice. “I mean, he can’t dress for shit and has questionable tastes in friends - oh, and cannot hold his liquor - but I dunno, baby-bot. He’s okay. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though -- and oh my god, did I mention he did gymnastics, what a fucking dork...”

The thoughts churn and buoy him until he pulls up to his house nearly an hour later. From the driveway he can see his fathers office light still on.

The sight of it makes his stomach drop, all good cheer gone in an instant. 

“Damn,” Tony whispers to himself, tapping his knuckles against the steering wheel. This time of night on a Saturday can only mean one thing and he is really not in the mood to be in the crosshairs of whatever his father and Stane are up to.

But before he can work himself into a worry his phone vibrates in his pocket.

> hey, look, thanks for not being a total dick tonight about everything > and last night as well, I guess > yknow what i mean < ur welcome < by the way, i’m proud of you  > for what < not finishing off ur aunts beer tonight < takes strength < asking for help is the first step > omfg i take back what i said > ur the worst < and ur a pain in my ass > they have creams for that u know > anyway, g’nite, butthole > p.s. you’re still not adorable Tony smiles down at his phone. < goodnight bambi The bot clicks at him, breaking him out of his train of thought.

“Don’t look at me like that. Let’s go in, but you gotta keep quiet, okay.”

He manages to avoid detection and attention from anyone, despite accidentally stepping on a squeaky floorboard. Maybe it had something to do with the record player and raucous laughter coming from the office.

In any case, Tony’s just happy to make it back to his bedroom. There, he toes off his sneakers and starts getting ready for bed, stashing the leftover cash into a drawer.

It makes him think about Peter’s reluctance for Tony to pay for over the last couple of instances, and how freaking annoying that is. And rude. 

Honestly, the dude should count himself as one of the lucky guys - Tony is not that magnanimous. He doesn’t experience an impulsive, unthinking eagerness to provide for just anybody.

Oh.

Tony stills in the middle of his bedroom.

Oh no.

He knows what this is.

“This is bad.”

---

*

*

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tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers @starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen

[pixielix]

୭̥⋆*｡ chef!au jisung

pairing: crush!jisung + gn!reader (ft. bartender!minho) genre: fluff word count: 1.1k warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, food, knives (for cooking) ib: god’s menu mv ( Big Surprise ! )

come work at our restaurant they said

it’ll be fun they said

you scrape the bottom of your motivational barrel to drag your lifeless body out of bed at 5:30am

you’d promised minho that you would come to work early so he could teach you how to make a couple of his signature flaming cocktails

(even though anyone would know that all it takes is adding a layer of strong booze on top of any drink and setting it on fire)

but he was determined to share all his bartending secrets and make you his apprentice

so your bus pulls up outside the back entrance of the restaurant, located down a dark alleyway that’s illuminated by a single red neon sign

it reads “神메뉴“

you stumble half-asleep across the concrete and approach the backdoor covered in bright graffiti art

you freeze hearing a noise echo from a shadowed corner of the alley

“pspspspsps-”

you spot the silhouette of a man squatting in front of a small orange cat

the cat’s eyes narrow in suspicion then soften as it gently nudges it’s head against the man’s hand

the loose sleeves of his hoodie slide back while he gives the cat a few soft pats, exposing a tattoo on his wrist

you squint to get a better look as you recgonise the insignia shaped like a flame with the words ‘cross boundaries’ written across it

he’s almost unrecognisable out of his polished black chef’s uniform, but you’re sure it’s him

“… jisung?” 

jisung turns and looks up at you like a deer in headlights

“you’re here!” he exclaims sharply before discreetly adjusting his tone to be a little deeper, “i mean ahem- oh you’re here? what brings you here?”

the cat scurries away as he jumps to his feet

“i’ve got bartending lessons with minho” you chuckle awkwardly, “how about you?”

“just felt like cooking” he scratches his head, “maybe try a couple new dishes i’ve been thinking of”

it was no wonder why you'd barely seen jisung despite working at god’s menu for almost a month

he was always the first to come and the last to go home, never leaving the kitchen during his shifts except to greet the diners when it was quiet

part of you had assumed he was the stand-offish, nonconformist type

but maybe you were wrong

jisung scrambles through his backpack for the key to the backdoor that’s hidden under a mess of tangled earphones and assorted snacks

the door opens with a screech

“lee minho......” you curse under your breath upon discovering that your ‘mentor’ is nowhere to be seen

your phone chimes with a text notification

“tiroriroriro~” jisung softly mimics the noise, making your shoulders relax as you laugh at the cute impression

something came up! i’m sure jisung can teach you to cook instead lol 😽 Received at 6:03am

your shoulders immediately tense up again

your brain goes into overdrive recalling the details of a recent conversation you had with minho when you were practicing making (and drinking) cocktails

the topic of love and relationships had naturally came up throughout the drunken midnight heart-to-heart

you’d interrupted minho in the middle of a passionate sonnet about how people need to lower their standards

“welllll myy shtandards are shimple!!” you announced proudly with slurred speech

“i like aaanybody that can make me yummy food” you giggled to yourself like a little kid

“doesn’t that make jisung your ideal type?” minho smirked, prodding at your flushed cheeks

“mmmm...... jisung.....” just the sound of his name made your smile grow wide as you repeated it over and over in a sing-song tone, “haann jiiiisssuung”

so the cat was out of the bag

SKDJKS I HATE YOU Sent at 6:05am

you wonder if he’s already told jisung, but the young chef looks too caught up in organising his ingredients to even look at you

“have you eaten?” he asks without shifting his focus from the shiitake mushrooms he’s slicing

“no... not yet”

“good! i’ll make you something” he smiles, his eyes curving into crescent moons that make his cheeks puff up a tiny bit

you feel the urge to politely refuse but you know a good meal could help distract you from the nerves

“okay deal. but you have to let me help!” you roll up your sleeves and force an enthusiastic smile

he nods, carefully handing you the knife

it’s a mixture of nervousness and the fact that you’ve never been the greatest cook that results in some very wonky-looking mushrooms

jisung peers over at you from where he’s preparing the soup base

“do you...?”

“yeah please help me” you quickly concede

he chuckles slightly, positioning himself next to you and hovering his hand over yours

“your technique is good, you just need to take it a little slower” he leads your hands with a gentle touch, “focus on precision over speed”

you feel his breath against your ear and try your best not to flinch, conscious of the sharp object you’re holding

“t-thanks” 

jisung takes a step back when he suddenly realises how close he is

you rush to change the subject and break through through the awkward silence

“what’s the story behind your tattoo?” you blurt out

“oh i um-” he pulls back his sleeve and traces the outline of the flame, “i got it when i started this job”

he smiles weakly in reminiscence, “i was so nervous...”

your mind wanders to the few times when you’ve seen him present his dishes to customers with so much satisfaction and pride, like he’d spent his whole life perfecting the one meal

it was hard to imagine an ounce of self-doubt in his system

“but i knew i had to pursue my dream” he continues, “i had to cross any boundaries”

you feel a sense of deep admiration make your heart go warm as you watch him silently and slowly repeat the words to himself

“cross boundaries, jisung”

he suddenly turns to you with a glimmer of determination in his eyes

“can i take you on a date?” he asks directly

you stare back at him blankly for a few seconds while your brain tries to process the words

noticing the way he’s literally holding his breath and might pass out at any moment, you give a few quick nods

“yes!! i’d love that!” you smile brightly

jisung buries his face in his palms, bursting with relief

he looks back up at you with the softest, sweetest, most sincere smile you’ve ever seen

“you have no idea how much i’ve wanted to ask you that”

it seemed like there were so many things about han jisung you had no idea about

but you were so ready to learn

m.list

[theonekid123]

Seashells and Dandelions

Summary: Marco Bodt’s childhood friend joins the scouts in hopes of making a better life, Marco being the person he is refuses to let her do it alone and insists he comes with her. They go through highs, (making friends, growing a stronger friendship, and making memories with each other and their new friends) and lows. When Marco’s death hit Y/N it hit hard and they sought out the comfort of Armin, the two being previous friends to get closer and eventually form a romantic relationship. However living in a world of demons can take a toll on relationships platonic and romantic.

Chapter 3

“No Jean I am not going to talk you up to Mikasa, STOP ASKING" Jean was a great friend don't get me wrong but I am not a wingman.

"Ok but can you please at least-" I cut him off before he could continue his pleading

"NO" god he was persistent

"If you do it for me I'll talk good about you to Armin '' He replied wiggling his eyebrows. I was not about to let Jean ruin what I have with Armin. We're just friends and I don't need him thinking weird of me.

"There's nothing bad about me to talk about" I responded, obviously there was but Jean couldn't have known any of that.

"The I guess I'll just tell him about the time you were cleaning the stables out and-" my eyes went wide, I thought i was alone when that happened

"Ok fine horse ass" I said, stomping away from him.

.

"Jean's not that bad. Ok he's pretty bad but still" I was currently hanging out with Mikasa, Annie and Christa. Somehow Jean got brought up in a conversation so I did what I promised and forced myself you talk about him in a non mockery type of way

"Do you like him?" Christa asked excitedly.

"No, I think Marco has a thing for him" I explained

"Who do you all like" I smirked as I looked at the girls around me

.

"She literally said she didn't like you like that" 

"Ok but maybe what she meant was-"

"No. Jean" I told the boy sitting in front of me while Sasha and Connie were losing it. They thought it was hilarious. Which I kinda was. But they were giving me a headache so I got up and walked out to the porch. The sun was almost set but it was so pretty this time of evening. The spring flowers were blooming. There were dandelions in bunches scattered across the base. My favorite flowers

"Damn, Persephone really outdid herself this time" I whispered to myself, not noticing the person not too far to my right.

"Who's Persephone?" I jumped at the familiar voice and turned to see Armin looking at me with curious eyes

"Oh, I.." i looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear

"Do you really wanna know" I asked and he nodded his head after a moment of what I assume to be thinking. A smile crept up on my face as I suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him along with me into the forest. Where I knew there wouldn't be anyone around. I had stopped running and let go of Armin’s hand as I crouched down to pick a dandelion. I got up and put it in Armin’s hands, he held it delicately 

"You can't tell anyone what I'm about to say" I said looking serious. He nodded his head looked more curious than previously 

"Persephone is the goddess of Spring, she's also the queen of the underworld. '' Marco always told me that I got some sort of "glint" in my eyes when i would talk about mythology  

"You've met her?" Armin asked, eyes wide with excitement 

"I read it from a book I found. It's kinda illegal actually" I explained scratching me neck embarrassed to admit I had illegal information

"Do you know about the ocean?!" Armin practically screamed

"You know about the ocean?" I asked probably as excited as him. 

"Tell me more about Persephone and we can talk about the ocean. Please" Armin said grabbing your hand and pulling you down to sit with him

.

"That much salt?" I lost track of how long we had been talking but it was definitely dark and cold.

"I know it's crazy right. One day I'm going to go to the ocean with Eren and Mikasa…...and maybe you" he mumbled the last part but I heard it

"I would like that," I responded looking at my hands in my lap. I looked up to see Armin already looking at me. Damn he made me nervous 

"I think I like you, more than a friend '' Armin blurted out and then blushed a deep shade of red. I grabbed his hand and leaned over taking the dandelion he was still holding in his other hand and tucking it into his hair behind his ear then placed my hand on his shoulder

"Me too" I said, giving him a quick kiss of the cheek and pulling away quickly. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, softly, and pulled me closer to him before he softly pressed his lips onto mine for a short, sweet kiss.

.

.

.

"You killed him," I said, walking out from behind a pile of wood. I knew I shouldn't have eavesdropped. All I thought I would hear was some gossip about the other cadets. Not...this.

"Y/N! What are you doing" Reiner exclaimed. Annie and Bertold both looked over. I couldn't move all I could do was stand there. I felt numb and betrayed. People I thought were my friends...were my enemies.

"Y/N listen plea-" I cut Annie off. She doesn't get to talk, none of them do

"No, stop. Why? Why would you-I don't understand, I thought we were friends. I LOOKED UP TO YOU RIENER! I-I trusted you, all of you and you killed marco. WHY!?'' At this point I could feel the tears streaming down my face, my head was swarming around. I didn't understand. They didn't say anything, nothing

"Are you going to kill me now, are you just going to betray everyone" 

"Y/N please just listen" Bertotld said taking a step forward 

.

.

.

"I know who the female Titan is" I said as I played with Armin's hair

"What do you mean, you have an theory?" he said looking up slightly from his resting position

"Annie" he got up and put the book he was reading to the side.

"I know" he sighed while sitting across from me as I sat up

"I know who the colossal and armored titan are too" his eyes widened and he looked hurt, probably because I never told him.

"Do we trust them?" He asked wanting to know if they were going to get betrayed again

"Yes. But I swore no one would know unless they came back to act or…..they killed me." He looked confused, but I would be to if I was in his place

"I'm telling you in case I die, you need to calculate how to use the information. If it gets out too soon they might act out and I might die" maybe it was manipulative and selfish but I can't die, not without knowing I made the people I love proud.

"I understand"

.

.

.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, I swear" they looked convinced, I've never broken a promise other than the one I made to Ms.Bodt. I know I was being irrational, I should tell everyone but I just couldn't. I couldn't betray them the way they did me. And maybe I was being selfish but I didn't want to die either, I couldn't. I had to stay alive for Marco, for everyone who died. I had to make sure they didn't die in vain. Marco would've done the same thing, he was so understanding and accepting. I had to do this. But one thing for sure, I'm not losing any more friends because of these people.

"I'm not doing this for you, don't get it twisted, I'm doing what Marco would've done. If you would've given him the chance" I said turning to walk away, but not before I left them with a statement that they could interpret however they wanted.

" If anything gets worse then now, I won't hesitate to expose each and everyone of you" .

.

.

"I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime" you broke the peaceful silence and Armin stopped writing. You laid half awake in the small bed as Aemin wrote at the desk on the other side of the room. His back facing you. He wasn't sure if you were just talking nonsense or if you were aiming your words towards him.

"I'm pretty sure you're that love of mine" at this point he turned all the way around, now straddling the back of the chair as he looked at you, who was laying halfway off the bed. Your forearm draped over your eyes, voice slightly hoarse from just coming back from a mission. You had his attention whether you meant to have it or not. You were thinking about all the peaceful times you had with Armin. A specific time popped into your head, playing on repeat. The beginning of spring, you had a day off and you invited Armin to your special place. Since he had shown you his. It was far off, not too far away from the base, a field that was blooming with dandelions. They have always been your favorite, a few trees scattered the area. You had picked so many dandelions and made a wish on every one. Armin had asked what you wished for and you told him you couldn't tell or it wouldn't come true. He didn't think anything of it.

"I'm in a field of dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine" the memories of times you would take him to this special spot came flashing back into Armins mind, how you wished on so many. He felt warm, not the embarrassment, kind of warm. The kind he felt when he was with his grandpa, his parents. He felt loved, but I was different this time.

"I see forever in your eyes, I feel ok when I see you smile" you had slowly began to sit up and looked over, expecting to see Armin with his back turned to you, not him resting his chin on his arms, that were crossed over the top of the chair, with a sweet smile plastered on his face. You got embarrassed and turned to avoid his eyes.

"Please" you heard his soft quiet voice, you looked at him as he spoke a single word, it sounded almost desperate

"Continue" and you did 

"I think that you are the one for me" you seemed a little self conscious in this moment so Armin gave you a nod, he knew it reassured you

"When you're looking at me I've never felt so alive and free, when you're looking at me I've never felt so happy" Armin stood up and walked over to the bed, grabbing your hands gently and pulling you off the bed. Not soon after he had his arms wrapped around your body, whispering 'I love you'. You felt safe and loved. To think it began with you just saying whatever came to your mind.

. 

.

.

(I took a lot of inspiration from the song “Dandelions” by Ruth B in the end”

[for-ests]

Love It If We Made It: Oikawa x Reader (Part 3)

1 / 2 / mlist 

word count: 3, 744

summary: you and oikawa share a kiss, and the truth finally comes out.

The sensation was overwhelming, yet you cherished every second of it. You gripped onto his jacket with entail, steadying yourself as your knees threatened to buckle underneath you.

It would never be possible to pour almost four years worth of emotions into one kiss. 

Oikawa held onto you just as desperately, pressing into you and begging for more. His large hands moved up from your hips and against your arms. He was unsure where to place them—he was unsure how to please you. 

Deepening the kiss, you pulled him down further. You didn’t want the moment to end, knowing nothing could be more blissful than finally gaining the courage to kiss the boy you loved back. 

“Y/N…” Oikawa mumbled against your lips, his husky, needing tone, sent vibrations down through your core. 

You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t move. 

You moaned in response; wishing you could continue, wishing more than anything to show him how much you cared for him. If all your problems were nonexistent, you would confess. 

But after your past mistakes—there was no room for error. Everything with Oikawa needed to be slow. It needed to be perfect. 

Placing his hands back on both side of your cheeks, Oikawa pulled his lips away to breathe. The kiss made your eyes sparkle. Oikawa found your embarrassed expression incredibly charming. He always had, and he always would. 

You gaze flickered up, demanding his utmost attention. 

"Fuck, Tooru... why are you doing this to me?"

For a moment, neither of you noticed the tears filling your eyes. You didn’t even know until you felt the warm streams slide across your skin. 

“You need to know how i feel about you.” 

Your breath was gone, your voice refusing to sound. He had always felt this way about you? In the exact same way you had felt about him? 

“How I’ve always felt…” I

You fell against him in defeat before he could finish his sentence. And shockingly, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. An embrace that promised you safety. 

“I feel it too. I always have.” You cried into his shirt, letting the tears finally flow in pure vulnerability. It was at that moment that Oikawa realized that he had never seen you cry before. 

Even as a child, you were never weak. If anything, it was always you and Iwaizumi taking care of him. And even if he had just endured an embarrassing and dream-crushing defeat—he needed to be there for you. 

This moment was going to be about you. 

Lifting your head, you mumbled out a few words in hopes to stop yourself from crying. “I never got over you and we were never together… how can that be possible?” 

Oikawa’s eyes glossed over. He could tell you were distraught, that you had been distraught all this time. Your relationship with him had ended so abruptly without any answers, without any communication. The boy had practically mourned his childhood friend, as if you had died. Your family had moved within days and all you said was ‘see you later’ like you were going on vacation, not able to fathom the sense of permanence.  

Oh how badly he wanted to travel back in time to those days. The days when you and him could only care about whose house was going to have enough blankets to cover the rooftop of your pillow fort. 

Despite his words, Oikawa’s face was graced with a smile. “I tried so hard to forget you. I tried to pretend it wasn’t real.” 

“Me too.” 

The boy closed the small gap to press his lips back against yours. You squeezed your eyes shut in response, relishing in the contact. With one simple action, Oikawa was able to send your heart back into overdrive. 

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the sudden wave of mixed emotions. You were incredibly sad, yet the thought of finally being able to hold him in your arms was enough to silence your inner turmoil. 

More. You wanted more. You wanted all of him and more. 

Oikawa could see it in your eyes. He could read you like a book, the only book he had ever wanted to read in his short eighteen years of life. 

Yet, there was still something he did not know. You were different and he needed to know why. To really share what you were hiding inside, Oikawa knew he needed to pry it out of you. 

You had always been so closed off. But not with him. 

“I want to make you mine, Y/N.” He whispered before he could properly formulate the rest of his thoughts. The boy was unable to deny how deeply you affected him, the thought of you alone making his heart race. 

“But-“ 

“But what…?” Your shoulders immediately tensed. One word and your walls shot back up, your conscious immediately preparing you for heartbreak. 

Trying to take a step back, you averted your gaze. But before your heels could even rest back against the parched soil, Oikawa pulled you back into his arms. 

"I need you to tell me what happened.” His voice was soothing in your ear. His breath was gentle as it fanned down the side of your neck. 

“Tell you about what?” You tried to deny him entrance by playing dumb. You didn’t want him to see this side of you. Nobody could. Nobody would. 

Nobody but him… 

Oikawa didn’t budge, relentlessly prying for information on your traumatic past. “I can just tell, Y/N. Something happened to you.” 

The part of you that you hated refused to show weakness. You wanted so badly to discard the emotional trauma, you wanted to cry until you couldn’t cry anymore. You wanted to fall into Oikawa’s arms and have him hold you up. You wanted somebody to take care of you for once, somebody besides your parents that were hardly dealing with their own demons, the regret and self-loathing that followed the death of a child. 

There was no handbook to guide you through the loss of a family member. One who had been ripped violently from your grasp without a proper goodbye. 

How could you tell Oikawa? How could you relay the information that someone he knew as a child had passed away without his knowledge? Without a word from you or anyone else that knew him. 

Was there any way to explain why he wasn’t invited to the funeral? Even if the answer was as simple as you had forgotten. Only family members had been allowed to attend, your parents unable to keep it together in front of anyone else. 

“Tell me,” Oikawa breathed, eyes searching yours for a possible answer. Anything that could explain the despondency that littered your expression, your gaze, your movements. Where did the life and soul he had grown to love go? “You can tell me anything.” he promised, imploring for an answer at this point. 

It broke his heart to see you like this. So desperate and lifeless, a stark contrast from the bubbly, shy, yet excited and playful girl that had been by his side for years. 

Oikawa wanted her back. He needed her back. Or else he wasn’t sure how he would make it through his senior year unscathed by pain and disappointment. 

Selfish, yes. But Oikawa was rarely selfish. 

“Y/N?” His voice cracked. The boy was growing concerned that you had gone almost a minute without replying. Your eyes staring straight ahead, gears seeming to turn inside of your head as you tried to invent an excuse as to what happened to you. 

Why were you so closed off? 

“Please.” Oikawa exhaled, hand caressing your cheek once more. Your eyes closed shut in response, savoring his touch, his actions- practically everything about him that you had been deprived of for years. 

“Haru died, Tooru—“ Your voice faltered at the mention of your brother's name. “He’s been dead for months.” 

Oikawa swallowed hard, shock crossing his face in an overwhelming amount. It was evident that he had no knowledge of his passing. “Y-you’re brother?”

You nodded furiously, in hopes that you didn’t have to repeat the sentence. Now that part of the truth had been unveiled, you were bracing yourself for more questions. 

“Oh my God…” Oikawa blinked, his sculpted nose scrunching in an unpleasant way as he briefly reflected on every moment he had spent with your baby brother. “Please tell me you’re joking…” 

Tears graced his strikingly mystifying eyes. The sight of him falling apart at the mention of your brother's name caused you to panic. You weren’t even sure if he had remembered you brother, someone as popular and busy as Oikawa had many friends, with many siblings, and many family members. 

But truthfully, you were the one who had forgotten about the moments you shared. The moments that Oikawa had cherished and held shocking close to his heart. 

Another gust of wind blew over the cliff, strong enough to ruffle Oikawa’s brown strands so far out of place that he was briefly distracted. Now, to you, the wind felt like nothing. You wanted to feel it, yet there was nothing. 

“No… no, he got in a car accident… with friends…” 

But he didn't say anything at all, he just hugged you as tightly as he could. Nothing else had to be uttered, for Oikawa knew you well enough to realize all you needed was contact. Contact that you were unable to gain from another, for nobody else had compared to how safe you felt in his arms. 

“Tooru-” The plea left your lips in desperation. How did you let this happen? You were supposed to be comforting him. He was the one who was devastated… Yet, now all he could focus on was making you feel sane again. 

“Shh…” Gently, he rested his chin on the top of your head. “Everything will be okay in time.” 

You gripped him back, letting your tears soak into his shirt. This was the first time you felt helpless in Oikawa’s arms. This was the first time uncertainty crept into your mind. You had always been so sure of your future plans. You had always been so sure of what was best for you, what you wanted, and what you wanted to care for. 

Yet being able to nuzzle Oikawa’s chest again, brought a form of suppressed hope that made you question everything you had ever known. Recently, everything that had ever been stable in your life had been snatched away from you. 

What was wrong in finally letting Oikawa truly in, in all of his entirety? If anything, that was what you deserved. 

“With you, I might be okay.” Your words came out quickly, hopelessly unfiltered and truthful. 

“Y/N,” Your name upon his lips caused shivers to course down your spine. How could you let someone have so much power over you? 

With an immense amount of courage, you raised your head from the safety and comfort of his chest, Listening to his heartbeat was enough to put you at ease. The ringing in your ears subsided, and that's when a familiar sinking feeling resided back into your stomach.

There was still more to confess. From you and from him. 

“There’s more.” Oikawa insisted. “I know there is.” 

Clutching onto his hand for support, you nodded once more. There was no use in holding anything back. “The only boyfriend I ever had cheated on me, right before this all happened...” 

You didn’t need to explain why it hurt so much. Even if you felt like you did, the pain was perceptible. For months you hadn’t processed the emotions you were feeling. As if there was even a correct way to mourn the loss of a brother and the loss of a lover at the same time. 

Tears immediately filled Oikawa’s eyes. Angrily, he bit his lip, averting his eyes in shame. He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at himself. How could he let life take you away from him? The boy felt like he was meant to protect you, and you had been damaged every second he was absent. 

But without the distance, he might have never been able to realize how deeply he cared for you. The love that had always occupied his heart and refused to leave. 

“Who.” Oikawa demanded, squeezing your hands reassuringly. “Nobody gets to hurt my girl.” 

Your heart skipped a beat from the informality. It felt so good to hear him admit that. Your heart had always been his, even if you tried desperately to deny it. You didn’t want to be like everyone else. Everyone was infatuated with Oikawa whether both of you wanted to admit it or not. 

“It doesn't… It doesn’t matter…” Your voice faltered. “I wasn’t your girl at the time.” 

“You were before, and you are now.” Oikawa’s eyes were threatening to overflow, to expose the weakness he had been trying too hard to conceal. He didn't want you to see him like this. You were the last person he wanted to fall apart in front of. “It’s always been you.” 

The corners of your lips upturned to form a smile. You had never wanted to be anyone else’s but his. That’s why your last breakup was so heartbreaking. You had used someone else, willing to try anything to get over Oikawa. It was childish, and that was your mistake, but in the end it had turned around to emotionally scar you. 

Oikawa had made the same mistake, and received the same consequences. 

Taken hostage by your emotions, you bunched your fingers around Oikawa’s warm-up jacket and pulled him back down to kiss you. The kiss wasn’t sweet this time, it was angry, it was filled with regret and remorse. 

Oikawa didn’t want to stop. He wanted to continue until his lips were bruised and his heart was full. 

Yet, despite the conformation in the kiss, there was still conflict in your eyes. Resting your hand against the hardness of his chest, your questions persisted.  “What happened to you?” 

The boy set his hand over yours. The waves crashing against the shoreline below had somehow increased in volume, but that was because the wind had subsided. No matter what he said, Oikawa would look back at this moment with you and cherish it. 

There was something so beautiful laced within nature’s tranquility. It heightened Oikawa’s confession and his emotions. The stunning angle of the sun danced along your features, carving an angel out of an ordinary girl for one single boy--him. 

Why couldn’t it have always been that way? 

“I had a girlfriend for a while.” Oikawa’s eyes grew dark. “She broke up with me because she knew I was still in love with someone else.” 

He had blamed it on volleyball. But in truth, he had never pursued another wholeheartedly. He didn’t want to, and he didn’t know why. He could have any girl he wanted. And now that you were back in his arms, the subconscious reasoning behind his desire was glaringly obvious. 

Your mouth parted at the confession. 

But before you could say anything, Oikawa continued. “That someone was you. I was never able to get over it because I realized it too late.” 

“It happens.” You whispered, sympathizing with his previous actions. You had been in the same boat, but Oikawa was lucky enough to try with a girl who didn’t break his heart in the process. You weren’t as lucky, you were scarred, almost beyond repair. 

What had happened in the past was inhibiting your eagerness to love Oikawa to your fullest potential. You didn’t want to ruin things with him. You knew the boy well, or you had, and you knew what made him tick. You knew what made him happy. 

“It really doesn't…” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that to her.” 

The mistakes from Oikawa’s past were not entirely uncommon. Yet, he was not afraid to admit his wrongdoings in your presence. That’s what made him strong in your eyes, and with his honesty and vulnerability, came the urge from within yourself to do the same. 

Funnily enough, you were still jealous despite the blatant fact that Oikawa had always put you first. Even though you had no reason to be. For a relationship was two sided and you had neglected him as well. 

Shoving those unwarranted feelings away, you decided to make him smile instead. He had such a blinding smile, one that could cheer you up no matter what topic was at hand. “I’m surprised you were even able to convince her in the first place to be your girlfriend… With your fangirls and all.” 

“Wowww Y/N, you really have to bring that up after such a heartfelt moment, huh?” The boy shook his head, and when you finally saw his lips curve up with a grin, you poked him in return, hoping to rile him up even further. Like you used to, like you always had. 

“I know…” You shrugged. For a moment, you were hesitant to admit it. But when you gazed into Oikawa’s eyes, you knew your admittance was safe with him. “I’m just a jealous person… I always have been.” 

The boy seemed as if he wanted to bring you back into his arms. “As you should be.” 

“Has any of…” You paused. “That changed?” 

Suddenly, before you could fully fathom what your own words were referring to, you reflected on the countless moments of you watching girl after girl confess to Oikawa, of them giving him presents, and of them surrounding him to the point where you felt unwanted and rejected. 

The memories were evident in your expression. Childish and immature maybe, but to you, it felt like the world. You couldn’t help how you felt because it was human nature. Jealousy, sadness, and possessiveness. 

“I receive a lot of attention from others. But none of it is real. None of it matters.” 

Oikawa meant it with every fiber in his being, with every single word he uttered, with every emotion he had ever felt towards you. Everything was heightened holding you in his arms, everything washed over him like a wave. Now that he was old enough to properly process the feelings that were deeply rooted within his soul. 

“I would do anything for you.” 

His words pulled tightly against your heartstrings, so forcefully that you felt the urge to make love with him for eternity. You couldn’t describe the feeling, relief? Was it relief over the countless years you had spent craving for his touch and affection? 

“Me too.” You grasped his hands once more. 

It was then that you realized the time spent without Oikawa was intended. The both of you needed to mature separately before you could truly come together as one. Even if you thought he was perfect, he wasn’t. He still had more growing to do, but now most of it could be with you by his side. 

You were far from perfect then, and you will still far from perfect now. But you knew that Oikawa had changed, and now possibly, he could love you despite your faults. 

Without being apart, your love for him might have remained in the shadows. 

You were not children anymore. 

Still, you wanted to feel like a child. You wanted to dive head first into the relationship you had always craved with Oikawa. What was stopping you now? 

“I promise to never hurt you.” Oikawa said, squeezing your hand and leaning forward to press his lips against the top of your forehead. 

“I believe you.” 

Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

Snickering, you pulled away from him to fully immerse yourself in your surroundings before you and him left the magical spot. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”

“Do you know how stubborn you are? I prepared an entire speech in my head!” 

“How thoughtful.” You grinned sheepishly. 

“You always tease me, Y/N-Chan.” He rested his arm around your shoulders, nuzzling you with innocent and nostalgic affection. 

“There it is.” You whispered, relieved to see that his normal, playful, and teasing nature was creeping back into his gestures and vocabulary. 

“There is what?” He teased, knowing you had already deciphered the meaning behind the nickname. A nickname that had started with you and had branched out into his countless friends and other relationships. 

You tilted your chin up, side-eyeing him with a simper. A simper that somehow spoke volumes about the underlying meanings with each sentence you spoke into the restless winds. 

The breeze felt cool against your cheeks, stabilizing the heat that threatened to persevere. Yet, you remained warm under Oikawa’s frame,  the weight of his body causing your mind to swell with endless possibilities. 

Suddenly he shifted, he shifted in the way that you would have when you finally gained the courage to admit something that had been settled into your subconscious for weeks. 

Out with it. 

Oikawa shifted his gaze onto you, solely. “Y/N… Will you be my girlfriend?”  

Your heart palpitated sharply. Was this the right move? Was this actually what you had been yearning for?

Searching his smoldering amber eyes, you found your answer. There was barely a second that passed before you replied. “That was all I ever wanted.” 

He exhaled, so deeply that his breath fanned down the small of your neck. “Thank God.” 

You loved him. You truly did, thinking it through, there was not a reason that you couldn’t. 

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. A silence that was deafening in the most exhilarating way. Staring into the horizon, you were reminded of the many times you had gazed into it before. You had never brought anyone there before, not your brother, not your previous boyfriend. This had been your spot, but now it was the spot you shared with Oikawa. 

And before you could realize, the hole in your heart, the hole that you had been desperate to fill for months, was healed. 

And it was all because of Oikawa. The boy had you fallen in love with and had never fallen out of love with.

tag list!

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[ghostlywritten]

Too Nice To Say Goodbye Pt. 2

A/N: Look, a bias wrecker.

For those, who are waiting on an update for ‘Uncertainty’: I’m having a tough time coming up with an interesting plot, because the third season royally sucked in my opinion. I’m gonna try, but it will take a while.

Words: 3,5k+

Part 1 

It took you a huge amount of self control to keep the tears at bay throughout the night. Haechan was fidgeting nervously every now and then next to you, his eyes constantly flickering over as if he was afraid you would blow up at any minute.

You almost rolled your eyes. You were not going to cry in front of anyone. You had never even cried in front of Mark despite all the time you’d shared together so far.

‘Speaking of’, you let your eyes wander to your ‘boyfriend’ or whatever he was right now, who was completely immersed in the show, his arm loosely hanging over Yeri’s back of the seat. 

‘They would look good together,’ you realised, noticing the admiring look Yeri would occasionally throw at him. You had known about her feelings right from the beginning. Not that she was mean to you or anything, she was just as nice as Mark. It was the quiet but passionate way she always looked at him when she thought no one was watching. 

You felt uncomfortably out of place. As if you were the villain standing in the way of their love. The best friends separated by a third person, because they hadn’t yet acknowledged or admitted their feelings to each other. It was so cliche, it was sickening you.

For the rest of the night you kept to yourself, nursing the one drink you had as you watched the others chat animatedly over mindless discussions. You wondered briefly if they had known all along what you had just concluded for yourself and felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

‘I can never show my face here again,’ you thought to yourself as you bid them goodnight after a few hours, the cold air refreshing as you stepped out with Mark in tow. You breathed in deeply, finding it easier now to keep your emotions in check since you got out of that stuffy room (and away from the lovesick eyes of Yeri).

“That was cool, right? Just us chilling, all relaxed and stuff,” Mark commented, sighing blissfully as he fell into step beside you. You had decided to walk the short way to Johnny’s flat earlier but you started to regret it now as it seemed to be a much longer route than you had in mind, not to mention the wind being freezing cold. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your sweater. Usually you would hold on Mark’s hands as they were always mysteriously warm but it was too awkward now. 

Everything was uncomfortably awkward with him now. 

Two weeks passed and you were retreating more and more into your shell, shying away from any sort of contact with the NCT gang. You couldn’t help the humiliation you felt, knowing how you were the unwelcome third wheel standing in the way of the best-friends-to-lovers relationship. They were probably all waiting for you to just be left behind and for the actual love to start blossoming between Mark and Yeri. 

But although it was quite easy for you to stay away from them and have all these bitter thoughts you just didn’t have it in you to break up with Mark. Your love for him was achingly real and it hadn’t wavered a single bit, despite the situation.

You still smiled when he did, you still laughed when he did, you still gave him a kiss on the cheek whenever you woke up first and you still longed for his touch, even if it was just a simple intertwining of your hands at night whilst he was fast asleep.

You never went as far as that anymore. Never initiated anything when he was fully conscious, not wanting to make him feel awkward. You had to cringe whenever you thought back on all the skinship you had done and how discomforting it must have been for him. 

‘When has he stopped finding comfort with me?’ you wondered sadly, trying to distract yourself with some studying. Keyword, “trying”. All you did was stare blankly at the screen of your laptop, rereading a line without taking in its contents as your eyes grew more and more tired with each passing second. 

A door opened and fell shut, shaking you awake from your mindless state. “I’m home,” Mark announced and you heard him stop his shuffling as if he was expecting an answer. 

You opened your mouth to shout back the usual “Welcome back, love” but the words died on the tip of your tongue and you just pressed your lips together, swallowing tightly. 

“Y/N, are you home?” Mark called out, walking further inside.

“I’m here,” you said quietly just as he passed by the kitchen, causing him to jerk in surprise. 

“Oh my Jesus, you scared me,” he breathed out, laughing as he held his hand to his heart. Your own thudded out of rhythm upon seeing his dimples. 

“Sorry,” you said with a wry smile before you looked back at your screen, pretending to read whatever you had put up. You actually didn’t have to study anymore since graduation came up in a month but it wasn’t like Mark knew about that.

“What are you up to?” he asked, ruffling his black hair as he took out a water bottle from the fridge, handing you one as well. 

“Just some post-studying,” you replied vaguely but he smiled anyways, patting your shoulder, “Yo, keep it up. You are going to slay,” he encouraged and you chuckled at his choice of wording. 

He had always been a promoter for hard work, cheering you on to keep going when you were close to giving up. You admired and simultaneously felt grateful for that trait as it helped you through the toughest exam periods. 

“Thank you, Mark,” you said softly, glancing at him lovingly but quickly averting your eyes, wondering if that had already been too much. Your shoulders slumped slightly. Were you really supposed to tiptoe around your boyfriend like that, thinking over which move was the least loving in order not to make him uncomfortable? 

No, you were not. And yet, you couldn’t let him go. Even if it wasn’t fair for the both of you. 

You failed to notice his face fall slightly. “Hey, is everything alright?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinched slightly in surprise, causing him to raise his eyebrows. Was that probably the first touch he had initiated in a long time? 

“..Um, yeah I’m good,” you said, quickly changing the subject, “And you? How was your day?”

“Oh, it was great. Donghyuck did such a funny move today at practice...,” Mark started off, sitting down on the seat next to you as he rambled about his day as usual. You smiled slightly at his excitement, closing your laptop and resting your head on your hand as you turned to listen to him, using times like these to stare unabashedly at him and engrave his every feature in your mind for the future. 

“...and yeah, it was just dope. You should have seen it, Y/N,” he ended, wiping his eye after another laughing fit he had.

“I wish I had,” you commented lightly, not really meaning it. You were perfectly fine with not seeing them again as bad as it sounded. 

Mark’s smile faded slightly and he cleared his throat, “Actually, the guys have been wondering where you are. They haven’t seen you in a while...,” he trailed off and your heart skipped a beat. They asked about you? Why? Or was he just using it as an excuse because he was wondering himself? “I never noticed before but you have not been around for movie nights and practices in weeks...” Your heart deflated into a pout at his words and you broke the eye contact, looking down at the counter instead. 

“Yeah, I’ve just been busy with...studying and stuff.”

“But...aren’t you graduating in a month?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You...know about that?”

“Yeah, Donghyuckie told me.” It just seemed that he was going to keep lifting and dropping your heart tonight. How did Donghyuck remember anyways? You had only briefly mentioned it to the whole group. 

“Yeah, but I might be called into an oral exam if they can’t decide on my grade,” you lied lamely, sighing inwardly when he nodded in acceptance.

The frown didn’t leave his face though and he scratched the back of his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to finish college soon anyways?” 

You shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“Not a big- Y/N, you are graduating!” he exclaimed, “How is that not a big deal?!” You stayed quiet. “Were you just going to accept your scroll without me cheering you on from the crowd?” A smile crept up on your lips, your heart warming at his sweet gesture. Mark was just the nicest guy you had and would ever meet. You could tell he still cared for you even if he didn’t love you anymore. And maybe that was why you held onto him. 

Your ‘boyfriend’ grinned back and you couldn’t resist reaching out to him. He stood up, letting you wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest. “Just tell me the date and time and I’ll be there,” he muttered into your hair and you nodded wordlessly, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

A month passed and you felt like time had almost reverted back to when you both were deeply in love with each other. Mark had seemed to realise how you were drifting away and even though he didn’t understand why, he never forced you to tell him. Instead he was determined to coax you out of your shell, asking you to go out with him to a new restaurant, playing video games until late at night and refusing to let go of you in the morning. 

You tried to guard your heart but couldn’t help but enjoy his attention again and soon you were falling back into his arms, giving in to the urge to clutch onto him like a koala. Especially at the point where you started kissing again. It was the fifth consecutive night you had spent playing Mario Kart together and you were as usual failing to beat him in any round, causing him to whoop after every win. 

“Ahh, I guess it should get boring to win against you all the time,” Mark teased as he wrapped his arms around  you when you eventually refused to play another round, “...but nah! It’s always fun!” he cackled at your sour expression and you had a hard time fighting the smile from your face. 

“Yeah, yeah I got it. You’re the best,” you uttered, playfully rolling your eyes and he squeezed you closer, suddenly causing his face to be inches from yours. Your expression turned somber as you traced all his features with your eyes, poking his dimple. It deepened when he smiled wider, his own dark brown eyes flickering between yours and - your heart fluttered - your lips. 

You stilled when he drew closer, his breath hitting your face, watching his eyes flutter close as he brushed his lips against yours before fully placing them on. You stopped breathing, your eyes closing on their own, relishing in the familiar yet foreign feeling of his mouth on yours, his hand on your jaw, his fingers tracing your skin and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing him closer by his shirt, deepening the first kiss you had shared in a long time. He let out a low groan, his chest vibrating against your fingers and to your delight you could feel his heart race as you ran your tongue over his lip a-

A phone ringing interrupted your sudden makeout session. You broke your kiss, breathing heavily as you looked up into Mark’s eyes. He looked dazed with his cheeks flushed and hair messed up and you had never found him more beautiful than now. “I think it’s yours,” you huffed and it took him a second to focus before nodded absently, grumbling under his breath. He took his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen light. 

“It’s Donghyuck inviting us over to Johnny’s flat,” he said chuckling, “He’s mad that we’ve been neglecting the movie nights.” You smiled, slowly regaining a normal breathing pattern as you straightened yourself up. “Shall we go tonight? They haven’t started, yet.” Freezing, you thought back on Donghyuck’s comments about your relationship and how the embarrassment you felt the last time you were there. 

“Uhh, I’m not really in the mood for a movie,” you excused yourself quickly, faking a yawn, “I’m pretty tired actually. But you go ahead and have fun!” Mark frowned slightly, glancing down at his phone before putting it away, “No, it’s okay. I will go to bed with you.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise but decided not to comment on it. He trotted after you towards your bedroom and you wondered whether you would continue where you had stopped when you got interrupted, your cheeks flushing slightly. No one could blame you, it had been a while since he had kissed you. 

“You know, you haven’t been hanging out with me and the guys for a while now...,” Mark approached the subject again as you both slipped into bed. 

“Oh really?” you squeaked, cursing yourself for your high pitched voice, “I didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, it’s just they have been wondering what’s up. I told them it’s nothing because...there’s nothing, right?” he asked uncertainly, facing you as you laid on your back. You swallowed down a cough when you found your throat had turned dry.

“No, of course not. I’ve just been busy with graduation coming up and stuff.” Mark nodded in agreement, seeming pleased with the excuse and you bid him goodnight before automatically turning to your side, used to facing away from him now. 

But tonight he shuffled over, wrapping his arm around you as he snuggled into your back. He planted a kiss on your head and your heart melted when he intertwined your fingers together in front of you. 

“I’ll make sure the guys and I attend your big day!” he said, his voice already sleepy and yet he managed to make your heart burst with affection. It meant a lot to you since everyone else had rejected coming - mainly your parents and close friends - due to busy schedules and such. 

You sighed, feeling happy to know you had someone to look at after you accepted your scroll.

-

But you wouldn’t have someone to look at. As you stood waiting in line in front of the stage, waiting for your turn, you wouldn’t have someone to look at. You would constantly glance down at your phone, waiting for a message to explain why he and his friends weren’t there yet.

You would disheartingly go up the stage, shake the principal’s hand with a tight smile, take a picture whilst your eyes would flicker over the crowd in vain until you had to leave the stage with a hanging head. 

‘Something important must have come up,’ you thought, worry clenching your chest, ‘What if he got into an accident?’ You immediately reached for your phone and dialled Mark’s number, growing nervous with each dial tone when he picked up. 

“Hey Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Mark picked up, frantically apologising and you sighed in relief at hearing his voice. 

“It’s okay, Mark,” you said, “Are you alright? You didn’t get into an accident, did you?”

“No no, it’s all good, I’ve just held up at practice.” You nodded. That would have been your second guess. 

“Did you lose track of time again?” you asked good-naturedly, simultaneously hating and feeling fond of this trait.

“Yeah, kind of. It was an emergency,” You nodded again even though he couldn’t see you, “Yeri was crying because she couldn’t keep up with the others. Seriously, I’ve never seen her break down like this before...,” his voice faded into the background for a second as you took in his words, “It took me and the others a full hour to calm her down. Man, she must have been holding it all in for so long...”

“I see,” you whispered, closing your eyes tightly and clenching your hand into a fist. 

“I’m really, really sorry, love, for missing your graduation. I know it’s really important!” Mark apologised again and you distantly heard a chorus of ‘sorry’s from the guys, including Yeri, “I can make it to the after party-”

“No, don’t bother, really,” you said, not able to hide the bitterness in your voice. Someone called your name, asking if you needed a ride. You turned over to one of your fellow students, who had been your roommates before you moved in with Mark, and gave her thumbs up.

“Y/N?” Mark asked, a little apprehension colouring his tone. 

“I’m not going to stay for long anyway. And you should you stay with Yeri-ah,” you muttered, dying to hang up. 

“But-”

“See you,” you ended the call, taking in a few deep breathes to calm yourself. ‘This is your day, Y/N. Don’t let anyone ruin your day,’ you thought sadly. 

-

The party was in full swing, people lingering around in circles with their respective families and friends, chatting up storms with glasses of champagne or wine or whatever they wanted. 

To say you felt like the odd one out was an understatement, being the only one without a single acquaintance around, you were forced to stand with your former roommate’s people, akwardly making conversation with them. 

“Are you alright?” your colleague would whisper-ask you every minute and you would always nod until you couldn’t even lie anymore with the tears brimming in your eyes. 

After an hour you decided to call it a day, realising that you wouldn’t be able to save any joy you had with graduating. Sighing deeply, you watched the puff of air as you walked your way home, finding peace in the silent night with the occasional refreshing breeze. You suddenly felt so tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding on when it was so pointless. 

You knew you had to eventually set Mark free and the time had come now. ‘I will ask him to come over tomorrow,’ you decided, figuring he would stay at Yeri’s or wherever she was to keep her company. To your surprise, you saw him standing in front of your apartment door, an adorably confused expression on his face as he searched his pockets. Knowing him, he had forgotten to take them in the first place. 

His features brightened up when he noticed you walk over, “Y/N, thank Jesus you are here! I probably lost my keys again.” 

“Hey Mark,” you greeted him quietly, slipping your keys into the lock and opening the door without stepping in. 

“Hey jagi...,” he called you gently, noticing your distress and holding onto your arm, “I’m really sorry I missed your day. You know, I wanted to be there so bad..”

“And I actually believe you, Mark,” you said, turning to see him smile his beautiful dimpled smile, “But I don’t think it’s enough...anymore.” You watched his face slowly drop as he registered the words. 

“Wait- what do you mean?” he asked, stepping closer but stopping when you moved back, crossing the threshold to what was once the home for both of you.

“I mean, we should end it here.”

Mark’s eyes widened, shock crossing his features. “W-what? Why??” 

You held up a hand so he wouldn’t get in, closing the door. “Please, just stay over at someone’s else for tonight. I will have my things moved out by tomorrow.”

“Moved out where- Y/N!” he pressed his hand against the wood, preventing any form of barrier between you. By now, you had a hard time keeping your tears in and you just wanted to be out of his sight before he could see them, “ Where the hell are you going? Why are you talking like this?”

“Because you don’t love me anymore, Mark!” you finally shouted out the words that you had kept in your heart, breaking it in the process of finally stepping out of the constant denial. “You don’t love me anymore,” you sighed, this time quieter and more defeated, “I can tell, everyone can tell...and I know you are too nice to break up with me so I’m doing it for you.”

“But I do love you...,” he uttered, his mind racing to find out what made you think that he didn’t in the first place, but the hesitation was clear in his voice. 

You shook your head with a sad smile, “You don’t. So please...just go.” Your voice cracked at the end, freezing him into place and you took the moment to close the door on him, and you relationship. 

A few months later you would see a heavily disguised boy holding onto a hand of a petite, equally disguised girl walking down the streets, into the cafe you would usually find yourself in and you would immediately realise just who they were, causing you to turn your back on your’s and Mark’s favourite place to go on dates.

End...I guess.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

[pagesofivy]

Ball of Memories

Prompt: Commission by @theweepingvulcan91 for Kirk x Vulcan!Reader (Spock’s Sister)

Jim is very tactile, especially knowing how much it means for a Vulcan partner, maybe some way there’d be a kiss to the ear to get the reader to blush, in a formal setting being very subtly inappropriate with their partner

Warnings: FLUFF!! Also, this is a Star Trek fic, so if ST isn’t your bag of chips, hop off the train.

Beta: @sheinthatfandom

Word Count: 1927

Tagging: @meganwinchester1999 @calmjoon @winchester-with-wings @mrswhozeewhatsis @myfand0msandm0re @feelmyroarrrr @quilliamfears @danijimenezv @mogaruke @aikibriarrose @sea040561 @becs-bunker  @letsdisneythings @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @autoblocked @ashengem @mysticalhood-main @haven-in-writing @emoryhemsworth @sassy-losechester

 Find it on AO3 here

As you get ready for your evening with Jim and the people of Starfleet, you look back on your relationship with the captain, a fond feeling settling over you as you remember how courting Jim Kirk took far more time than most would expect.

Upon your first meeting, you knew you desired him, and you thought he had felt something similar. However, as soon as your brother Spock stepped up to welcome you to the Enterprise, Jim had stepped back and become almost coldly professional, far more distant with you than with any other crew member on the ship.

Though you knew immediately what you felt for him, Jim was hesitant to admit or try anything. Your human emotions stung- at first, you thought he was outright rejecting you and didn’t want you, something you had never dealt with. Despite being half-human, you had still been desirable to many of the Vulcans on your home planet, and many had tried to connect with you on multiple levels. Determined not to let Jim’s dismissal of you ruin your much-anticipated time on the Enterprise, you did your best to shut off any feelings except respect for the captain, and went about your duties, ignoring how your heart quickened around him. After accepting that your feelings were not reciprocated, you took a different route and pushed to be friends, wanting a similar connection that he shared with your brother, wanting anything more than the coldness he regarded you with at that moment.

Slowly, after much pushing and coaxing, Jim warmed up to you considerably, though there was still a sense of him holding something back. You refused to let that discourage you from your friendship with the captain though, content with the progress you had made. Friendship was the first step in a long road you hadn’t even thought of starting down.

~~~~

One shore-leave night, a few years after first deploying with the Enterprise, you put your responsibilities on hold for the next few days and allowed yourself to get a little too inebriated. Spock would have been ashamed, had he seen, but he wasn’t around, and you didn’t care. At least, not while this drunk.

You still had control over your body, able to walk in a… fairly straight line, and weren’t stumbling around, though your inhibitions were down and emotions running more freely than usual. You desperately began searching for your captain, your Jim, needing to see him, your pent-up feelings for him coming to the surface an an inescapable bubbling-over. You found him strolling along a path in a nearby garden, and you nearly swooned. He looked so perfect, hair highlighted by the moonlight, and you paused a moment to admire him, only to have your location revealed by a nasty stick that broke when you accidentally stepped on it.

Jim turned and spotted you, looking surprised only a moment before smiling hesitantly. “(Y/N), what brings you out here this late at night?” He asked, friendly. You had the sudden urge to run away, but you quelled it, instead taking a bold step towards him.

“Jim, I’ve come to tell you something, something important that you may already know, but it still needs said.” Your words were surprisingly clear and not slurred, and it emboldened you even more. Jim, for his part, looked concerned and even more guarded.

“What is it (Y/N)?” His words were slow, cautious, and damn him, his responsibility made him all the more attractive.

“Jim, I believe I am, as you humans say, in love. With you. I’ve been infatuated with you for quite some time, and I think over that time it grew into love. And it pains me occasionally that you only see me as a fellow crew-member. I do my best to ignore these emotions, to follow in Spock’s steps and repress the humanity inside me, but I am not as strong as my brother, nor do I wish to be. I like embracing the human part of me. I can accept tomorrow going back to friends, or even simply a captain and a member of his crew if that is what you deem appropriate, but tonight, I needed to admit to these feelings plaguing me.” With a definitive nod, you felt your body relax, your biggest secret finally revealed.

Looking at Jim, it was hard to read the emotions on his face. Really, it was hard to see any emotions on his face; he looked pretty much like a blank slate, which was rather frustrating. In the cool air, your buzz from the alcohol quickly started to fade, allowing embarrassment and shame to creep in. “Forgive me Jim, I overstepped my boundaries. I believe I will return to my quarters.” You started walking away, wanting nothing more than to escape, but Jim’s firm tone stops you:

“Stop (Y/N).” His voice was firm, an order, and while you wanted to just continue moving, disobey, you knew that facing him now would be less painful than facing him back on the ship. With a fortifying breath, you turn around, head held high, deciding to face the mess you’d created straight-on.

Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking conflicted and sounding frustrated. “(Y/N) I… I appreciate you coming to me with your feelings. I feel for you something more than friendship or camaraderie, but… You’re Spock’s sister, I’m not sure… I’m not sure that’s a line I can cross. Your brother’s friendship is important to me, and I don’t want to upset him. As much as I care for you, I’m not comfortable moving forward without his permission…. As archaic as that sounds.” He cringed when he said the word “permission” and you understood a whole lot about your interactions with him from his confession.

You took a minute to process his words, then nodded resolutely. “Of course Jim, I understand. Thank you for letting me know that my feelings are at least partially reciprocated. If you feel comfortable broaching the subject with my brother, please do so, but do not feel obligated. We shall resume life as normal tomorrow.” Your words are a bit stiff, but the idea of getting your brother’s permission to pursue Jim is uncomfortable; you love Spock, but he doesn’t fully understand your desire for the type of connection that courting someone brings, and with Jim of all people - illogical, wild Jim - he wouldn’t be too happy about your choice of lover either. Kirk looked like he wanted to say more, but you bid him goodnight and walked back to the small apartment you’d been assigned for the leave.

~~~~

You shake yourself from your reverie and you’re back in your shared quarters, preparing for the gala. Jim’s somewhere else, probably dealing with a last-minute crisis, so you’re alone getting ready, which is something of a relief. The dress that hangs on the back of the closet door is daunting, beautiful in a way that you feel you don’t match. Jim bought you the dress though, because you’d fallen in love when trying it on, and he is not in the practice of denying you things you want, as much as he is able.

You shower and do your makeup, something simple that you learned from one of the crew members specifically for this event. Staring at the dress, you take a fortifying breath before deciding to brave putting it on. Just as when you first tried it on, it fits your body perfectly, and, taking in your appearance, you almost don’t recognize yourself- your ears are a reminder though, of who you are, where you come from, and your differences. Half-Vulcan, half-human, toeing the line.

Before your thoughts can go any further, there’s a knock at your door and once you give the all-clear, Jim pops his head in, letting out a low whistle of appreciation when he sees you in your full gala attire.

“Damn (Y/N), you’re more stunning in that than I remember. I might have to fight some men tonight,” Jim says, walking fully into the room, and it’s all you can do to keep a straight face.

“Jim, don’t you dare fight anyone, especially over me.” You scold, but Jim just smirks and winks before walking to the closet to get himself ready for the event.

“I make no promises my dear, but I’ll be on my best behavior. Your brother wouldn’t let me cause too much trouble anyway.” Jim’s teasing helps you relax a bit, and you admire him as he gets dressed in his suit, looking dapper as always. With him by your side, you just might be able to conquer the gala.

~~~~

This shore leave is less relaxation and more, as Jim calls it, schmoozing with the important people of Starfleet, trying to drum up funding for further exploratory efforts. It’s your first time in a long time being at a formalwear event, and you’re a bit self-conscious. You remind yourself not to tug at your dress or fiddle with your jewelry, because you refuse to seem unsure in front of others. After years of teasing for being half-human and half-Vulcan, you’ve learned a thing or two about interacting with people, and how they often sniff out weaknesses before trying to truly be friendly.  

Sitting at a table alongside Jim is the saving grace of the gala, where everyone seems to be uptight and overly-formal. It is uncomfortable how often you’re getting stared at, especially with Jim by your side, and you notice the whispers being exchanged. Jim must notice too, because  as a slow song comes on, and pairs rise from their chairs, converging on the dance floor in close couplings, Jim smiles and stands, then holds his hand out to you, an invitation to dance. When you accept and stand gracefully from your seat, he runs his thumb along your knuckles, a gentle caress that sends chills along your skin. Jim holds you at a respectable distance, not too far but also not inappropriately close, as you two sway together. It’s calming and comforting, being like this with Jim, when everything is usually chaotic.

Jim is basically cheek-to-cheek with you, just briefly, but it’s enough to heat up your entire body, out of both embarrassment and arousal, and you have to stifle a moan when he presses a soft kiss to your ear before he takes a step back, returning to that respectable distance you started at. He’s smirking, looking proud as he takes in your reaction, and he winks.

“Don’t worry darlin’, nobody saw, except maybe your brother. As much as he respects us being together, he’s worried I’m gonna do something to harm you.” Jim scoffs at the idea and you smile softly at him, reaching up and stroking his cheek.

“I’m his sister, and he and I have been through a lot, Jim. He loves you and knows you won’t cause me harm on purpose. He’s more worried I’ll cause trouble, or you’ll incite an incident.” Returning your hand to his arm, you give it a squeeze and wink back at him, teasing. 

“The only incidents I’ll incite, dear, are ones involving you and some private one-on-one time.” His comment can be easily construed as lewd, but you know better, know he simply means time together and away from the prying eyes of your brother and the rest of the fleet.

“One-on-one time seems to be exactly what the doctor ordered.” You tease back, and Jim lifts your hand to kiss the tips of your fingers.

[maluminspace]

“You smell really nice” with Michael pls ❤️❤️❤️ - @h0tsos

Hi lovely! 💗

This version of Michael is my absolute favourite, so I really hope you enjoy reading about him 🥰

B19 “You smell really nice”

The rest of your friends have long since retreated inside. You can’t really blame them, it’s starting to get late and, what had began as a warm summer evening was quickly becoming much cooler.

It’s hard to care about any of that though. You can barely feel the cold night closing in on you when the little bonfire is still crackling away in front of you and Michael Clifford is sitting cross legged on the grass beside you.

The beautiful man that you’ve had a crush on for forever, looks particularly cute tonight. He looks soft in his black jeans and the oversized black hooded sweater he’d just shuffled into. His golden hair is ruffled from where he’d pulled the garment over his head and somehow makes him look even more adorable.

You’re sort of annoyed with yourself, if you’re entirely honest. After all, Michael is just a man - simply a friend of a friend that probably doesn’t even deserve all of the space in your mind that he takes up on a daily basis. Despite being generally a pretty logical person, you can’t give into your sensible side on this. The undeniable truth is, you’ve never been this hung up on anyone before.

Michael’s eyes are twinkling prettily in the firelight as he gestures with his sweater paws. He’s telling you about one of the many times he and his friends had gotten up to some drunken mischief. You can’t really concentrate on his words, though. The fact that you’re finally alone with your long-term crush is the only thing your mind will focus on as your gaze drifts once again to Michael’s full, pink lips.

“…and then Luke fell over this low wall and all the rest of us could see was his lanky legs sticking up like massive twigs with sparkly boots on the end of them!” Michael giggles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the strength of his merriment.

You allow a little laugh to slip past your own lips but you’re mostly just staring at this beautiful man next to you, unable to think of anything to add to the conversation.

Even after his laughter dies away, Michael’s wide smile remains on his face as he turns slightly to meet your gaze. The firelight casts flickering shadows over his handsome face, but he’s close enough that you can still appreciate every small detail, from the shape of his cute nose to the exact shade of his sparkling green eyes.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes. You’re sort of entranced by the soft eye contact and it’s only when Michael’s smile fades, that you realise the length of silence passing between you is now bordering on uncomfortable.

You drop your gaze, slightly embarrassed by the undoubtedly dopey expression on your face. You fiddle nervously with the cuffs of your denim jacket, hoping that Michael assumes your silence is due to anything other than the all-consuming admiration you have for him.

“You look a little cold.” Michael mutters, his voice sounding uncharacteristically shy.

You can’t quite bring yourself to meet his eye again, worried that you’ll end up actually drooling or doing something else that’s equally as embarrassing. You simply nod distractedly, feigning interest in the flickering flames in front of you. In your peripheral vision, you notice Michael shuffle closer to you, his movements hesitant and a little clumsy. You fight to keep your gaze aimed at the bonfire, not sure how to deal with the feelings building in your chest as Michael tentatively wraps one arm around your shoulders.

Unable to form words you simply lean into his hold, ensuring that he knows the contact is more than welcome. For a long moment the only sounds come from the burning wood a few feet away from you and you try to use it to ground you, afraid that you’ll actually panic if you allow yourself to fully believe what’s happening.

Despite the otherwise comfortable silence, a slight awkwardness is lingering beneath the surface. Having not spoken for quite some time now, you know it has to be you that starts the next conversation. Unable to think of anything particularly smart or funny to say, the words “you smell really nice…” tumble from your lips.

Your instant regret at letting the borderline creepy comment come out of your mouth, fades a little as Michael chuckles, the beautiful sound giving you the confidence to lift your gaze back to his face. “It bodes well that the smell of beer and bonfire smoke impresses you.” He chides, stroking your shoulder soothingly over your jacket.

You automatically raise an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure of what he means. It’s hard not to wonder why he cares at all what would impress you.

Michael’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pale pink as he suddenly becomes shy again. “It’s just that… Well, I’m having a few friends over to my place next Friday and I kind of hoped you’d come.” He babbles, clearly nervous. “But all that we really do is sit around a fire in my back yard and drink beer so…”

“That sounds nice.” You smile, somehow mustering the presence of mind to help him stop bumbling. “I’d love to come to your fire and beer… thing.” You laugh at your own idiocy but luckily Michael giggles along with you.

“That kind of makes it sound like a drunken ritual or something.” He laughs. “I promise we don’t like… try to summon demons or anything.”

You give an exaggerated pout, feigning disappointment. “Damn, maybe I won’t bother then, I was only interested in the ritualistic element.” You joke, surprised at how quickly your nerves are vanishing now that you’ve mustered the courage to speak in the first place.

“Well I plan on ordering pizza, if that helps to convince you to come.” He shrugs, his smile reaching his eyes again. “I’m also known for my amazing snack and alcoholic beverage options so…”

“In that case, I couldn’t possibly refuse.” You concede, all too aware of the slight smirk playing at the corners of your lips. “I’m always up for a good pizza, even when it’s not accompanied with supernatural rituals.”

Michael lets out a little laugh as he rests his head against yours. “Well that’s good to know, I can’t say I’m well practiced in the dark arts.” He mutters, staring to the flames of the bonfire yet again.

Another long moment of silence passes between the two of you but it’s much more comfortable this time. You muster up the courage to wrap your arm around his waist, keeping your bodies as close as possible. You can always argue that it’s solely for the purpose of keeping warm if Michael calls you out on it.

He doesn’t, though. He simply tightens his hold on you, silently confirming that he’s happy with the contact before he speaks again. “We should probably go inside soon.” He mumbles quietly a few moments later. “It’s getting pretty cold out here.”

You whine sadly, stubbornly refusing to move first because that would mean untangling your fingers from the back of Michael’s sweater, and that’s not something you want to do just yet. “It’s nice out here, though.” You argue lightly. “I can actually listen to your stories without straining to hear you over Calum and Luke arguing loudly about who can down the most shots of tequila in under a minute. Also, that ended in a huge pukey mess last time… I’d rather not see that again!”

“No!” Michael groans lowly. “I’d forgotten you were there that night!” He grumbles, a deep blush colouring his cheeks again. “I was so fucking drunk, I made a complete fool of myself.”

You giggle, remembering Michael’s scrunched up, sweaty face as he enthusiastically played air guitar to old metal music with Ashton, your mutual friend. “You were just having fun!” You insist lightly. “It was actually really adorable.”

Surprisingly Michael’s blush deepens even further and his bashful little grin makes you far less self conscious about the daring words you’d just spilled.

“You think I’m adorable?” He asks nervously, pulling back a little so that he can look you in the eye.

You give him a small nod, complete with a slightly hesitant smile that’s probably bordering on a smirk. “Very adorable, actually.”

The eye contact you’re sharing becomes tense and your heart practically jumps into your throat when Michael’s gaze drifts momentarily to your lips. “That’s not usually a word people use to describe me.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, you’ll learn very quickly that I’m not like most people.” You shrug, fully aware that you’re definitely smirking now.

“I’ve already noticed that, actually.” He chuckles softly, “that’s why I’d um…” he swallows hard as his eyes become wide like he’s scared of finishing his sentence.

You smile encouragingly, finally detangling your fingers from his sweater in favour of brushing a strand of his golden hair out of his face.

“That’s why I… why I’d like you to come to my party as more than my friend…” Michael blusters, his words running into one another in an anxious ramble.

Your heart is beating out a fast rhythm in your chest, is Michael really trying to… before you can even finish asking yourself the question he takes a deep breath and continues his sentence a little slower. “What I’m trying to ask is, would you come to the party as my date?”

The smile that bursts across your face couldn’t be bigger as you nod. “I’d like that.” You confirm, your cheeks already hurting from smiling hard.

Michael returns your grin, clearly relieved that you’d said yes. It’s obvious that neither of you really know what to say next and a slightly awkward silence descends around you.

Ultimately you opt to break the tension yourself, concluding that Michael is far more shy and awkward when it comes to this stuff than you’d imagined. “Does that mean I’ll get first dibs on the pizza and beer?” You ask, hoping the lighthearted comment will help Michael relax a little.

“Definitely.” He replies brightly. “I’ll make sure you benefit from all of the ‘I’m dating the host’ perks.”

You giggle like a giddy child and shuffle closer to Michael again, already missing his body heat. “I think the biggest ‘perk’ of dating the host, is that the host will be you, actually.” 

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[bards-witcher]

Perdita - Chapter 8

Are people out of character? yeah probably, but we’re 2 chapters ftill the end and gold star to whoever guesses what’s going to happen.

And let me know what you think :D

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[Luke POV]

For the next couple of days, he kept vigil of his brothers’ bedside, watching as his life barely hung by a thread as he refused to even think of sleeping as he knew his friend would need him when he woke up, that was one reason. The other was that if kept unchecked, his mind would bring up visions of Ryan no longer himself again and he wasn’t quite strong enough to be dealing with that just yet.

In the mad rush back to the base to save Jon he’d learned that Lui and Ryan had been ambushed on their way over to help them, which also happened to be the exact time that Anthonys’ comms went down, meaning that he had no way of telling them, and sure enough if it wasn’t for the other man then sending Nogla, John and Craig he’s sure that he wouldn’t be sitting here now, nor Lui for that matter.

Not that it made it any easier to deal with, he’d failed both Ryan and Jon, the two people most important to him and he’s sure that fact would’ve hurt a lot more than it did if he was anything more than the empty shell of a man he currently was now.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone but Brock since that day, and even then it was just to find out how Jon was doing, ignoring the worried looks and gestures of support by his friends as he kept himself by Jons’ side, refusing food and sleep until he knew for sure that the other man would pull through.

He’d lost track of the days since the shooting, but sure enough he felt his energy begin to waver, slipping in and out of conscious and startling awake at the slightest sound, and it’s with Brock entering the room that he wakes, gun raised at the other man until he knows who it is, ignoring the pained look on Brocks face as the younger man approached Jon.

The other man doesn’t bother trying to say anything as he knew he’d get no answer in return, instead, he simply checked over the fluid levels and Jons’ vitals from the last couple of hours, a small, tired smile gracing Brocks’ face as the younger man then turned to him.

“Del’s gonna pull through” He’s too exhausted to deny the relief he felt at that statement, practically feeling himself deflate as he released the air that he’d been holding ever since that day “We’re gonna keep him in a coma for a few more days to help him heal and he’s going to be out of commission for a while, but he’s stable, half an inch to the right and Jon wouldn’t-“

“Thanks Brock” He gave the other man a wry smile and watched as understanding came across the other man’s face for a moment before he then turned back to face Jon, Ryans’ shot had been half an inch away from being deadly with both he and Jon now and the fact was enough to light the smallest flame of hope in him.

“Luke, go get some food and rest, I’ll keep watch of Jon” He looked up at Brock then, unaware the other man was even still in the room as he just gave him an empty gaze “You’re barely functioning right now and you’ll be no good to Jon or Ryan if you’re dead on your feet, go look after yourself for a little bit and I’ll let you know if anything changes”

He’s far too tired to even think of arguing, so instead, he settles on giving a small nod in thank you at the other man before he offered a final look to Jon.

“I made some pecan pie earlier, should still be warm, figured you could use some comfort food” He gave a final murmured thank you to Brock before in an almost trance-like state he left the room, no thought to where he was going until he found himself outside of his bedroom door.

Without hesitation he opened the door, glad that someone had the sense to remove the couple of pieces of Ryans’ clothing that had littered the floor before they’d left, not wanting the reminder that for a time he had the other man with him again, only for his efforts to be dashed when he caught movement on the bed and looked up to see Tiny staring up at him, an all too hopeful look in his eyes as they studied each other.

He felt tears start to form in his eyes, losing what little resolve he had left as he let them fall freely whilst he slowly approached the bed, extending a hand out to rub on the dog’s fur as a gesture of comfort, whether it was for him or Tiny he didn’t have the heart to answer as he let the guilt of losing Ryan consume him once again.

“’m sorry I couldn’t bring your daddy home Tiny” He had to stop for a minute to catch his breath which now seemed to be caught in his throat, the small dog taking the moment to move his head and begin licking at his hand, almost as if he knew that he was upset and was trying to offer what little comfort he could “I promise I’ll get him back for you, but you’re just gonna have to put up with me for a bit”

His words and the realization that came with them shred through his control and he quickly crumpled to his knees, moving his hands to try and cover up his face somewhat so as not to disturb Tiny, only the dog didn’t care for that, using his new advantage to stand up so that he could move closer to begin licking fervently at his hands and face, which meant that now his efforts went into keeping the small animal at bay.

The somewhat welcome interruption had him then pull Tiny closer to him so that he could cuddle against him for a moment whilst he tried to form some source of strength to compose himself a little, and although it took longer than he’d like to admit, with Tiny who was ever patient arms he eventually found it, now given another reason to go rescue the other man, but first he needed to sleep.

*********

As much as he wanted to remain by Jons’ side, his body would not allow it, spending most of the next two days catching up on some much needed sleep intermixed with eating a whole pecan pie to himself and various other comfort foods that were given to him whilst he willed himself not to breakdown and cry.

He’s not sure how long he slept this time, he just knew that he felt some semblance of his former self, wincing at the sour taste in his mouth and feeling an itch under his skin that told him he hadn’t showered in what was probably far too long.

Carefully, he got out of bed so as not to disturb Tiny, an action which was futile as the small dog seemed to wake with the slightest movement he made, but nevertheless he left him to stretch across his bed whilst he took off his clothes and got in the shower, the hot water far too good for words as he took several minutes to just stand there and let it melt away any thoughts that had begun to intrude his mind.

Eventually, he picked up the shower gel and made quick work of washing over his body several times for good measure, already feeling significantly better than he did before as he washed about a week’s grime and muck off of him.

As good as it felt though, he knew he couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so it was with a sigh that he turned the water off before stepping out to quickly dry himself off where he then made quick work of brushing his teeth and putting a bit more care into his appearance.

Although he felt somewhat rejuvenated when he left the room he bypassed the kitchen entirely to instead make his way towards the infirmary, giving brief murmurs of greetings at those he passed by, barely noting their comments of how he looked like he was doing better until finally, he’s pushing through the doors.

He felt Brocks’ scrutiny for a second, as if he were being judged on whether he was allowed to be here or not, and whilst he had no idea what he saw, apparently it was good enough as the other man stood up to leave, ignoring most of what he said apart from how Jon should hopefully be waking up within the next several hours, and then suddenly he’s alone again.

His mind was racing as he sat there watching Jon’s prone form, and although he knew the other man was alright, well as alright as he could be, it didn’t make the sight any easier, hoping that the other man would wake up sooner rather than later to help put him somewhat at ease so that he could turn his mind onto other matters.

The seconds ticked by, which quickly turned into minutes and hours, unsure how long it was since he arrived at Jons’ room but he was quickly startled to attention when he saw the other man stir a little as he slowly became conscious, unable to do anything but hold his breath until he finally saw the stark blue of Jon’s eyes squinting up at him.

“What happened” He winced a little at how hoarse Jons’ voice is but then he’s quickly leaning forward to stop the other man’s attempts at getting up, all but shoving him back down until the younger man settled back with an annoyed huff.

“You got shot you dimwit, you’re still recoverin’ so don’t think of goin’ anywhere just yet”

Jon seemed to mull over that answer for a couple of minutes, what the other man was thinking or how much he remembered he had no idea, too relieved at the fact that Jon was actually here and that he was alive in front of him.

“You get Ryan? Kill G?” He flinched a little at the question, a reaction he’s sure gave Jon his answer and sure enough, he saw the look of pain flash across the younger man’s face for a moment “Why the fuck didn’t you save him?”

“Because we needed to save you, I wanted to go after him, trust me, but after findin’ out you got shot I haven’t been able to think ‘bout anythin’ else. You’re my brother, Jon, and if anythin’ happened to you-“

“I’m here aren’t I? Luke, I love you man, and I appreciate the sentiment, but you gotta get your head outta your ass and bring Ryan home” He was somewhat stunned by Jon’s outburst, it having been the last thing he expected but he supposed it would be the closest thing to a thank you he would get.

“It’s not as easy as that, Jon”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we can bring Ryan back this time, we got lucky last time, but I couldn’t break through to him and we’re nowhere close to findin’ a cure” He had to stop for a moment, looking down and away from the other man to instead run a hand down his face to try and keep some composure “Plus you heard what G said, whatever shit they put in him is stronger this time, I just don’t see a way of gettin’ Ryan out of this alive”

“Luke, I’m gonna ask you to shut the fuck up from now on alright” He looked up startled, giving a confused look at the other man who had a fire burning behind his eyes right now and looked less than impressed with him, silencing whatever protest he went to make “Whatever G said is fuckin’ bullshit, I’m livin’ proof of that, literally, Ryan was given the kill order and I’m still here to talk some sense into your broody ass”

He still can’t seem to form a response to Jon’s argument, but he also can’t deny the truth in what he said, and he felt that small flame of hope in him grow just that little bit bigger.

“Ryan knows what he’s doin’, hell he’s never missed a shot, except when it comes to us Luke, he’s lost yes but he needs us and everyone else, his family, to help guide him back, he’s the strongest person I know, we just gotta have faith”

Now it was his turn to mull over the statement, turning it over in his mind and trying to find some fault, only he can’t, it’s the most sense he’s had of the whole situation since it began and as much as he doesn’t want to, to him the situation didn’t seem as bleak as it once did.

“That was awful deep of you Jon, you watch that in a movie or somethin’”

“I have my moments, now that’ll be 200 cash for giving such sage advice” He can’t help but roll his eyes a little at the statement as Jon laughed a little, noting the slight wince of pain the younger man gave that suddenly brought him back down to earth and the realization of their situation.

“You just take it easy Jon, I’m gonna go get Brock to look you over and keep you company for a bit” He chuckled at the way Jon seemed to perk up a little at that, giving the man a final smile before he got up to leave, sparing him a last glance and a brief smile just before he left “Thanks Jon, for puttin’ me straight”

“Don’t say that, Ryans’ gonna hate me if I made you straight” Neither of them could hold back their laughs now, sparing one last ‘Fuck you’ to the other man before he began his search for Brock and to assemble the rest of his friends for what he hoped would be their last mission for a while.

*********

It’s far too long before everyone joined him in the living area, too eager now to get this whole ordeal over with and to have Ryan in his arms again where he had no intention of letting him go again.

However, when he started talking, going briefly over a loose plan he formed in his head as well as potentially bringing in a couple of other faces to help them out, he couldn’t help but note how antsy some of the other guys looked, as if they didn’t believe in a word he was saying, ignoring it as best he could until he simply couldn’t anymore.

“Clearly not everyone agrees with savin’ Ryan, so how ‘bout y’all say what you wanna say” He’s met with nothing but silence, most of the guys choosing to avoid his gaze and he quickly got tired of the act “You guys lost your balls all of a sudden, spit it out”

The guys all seemed to look at each other to dictate who’s going to be the one to speak and it seemed that they settled on Tyler, probably more so due to his size, a fact that didn’t threaten him in the slightest.

“Look, Luke, we want to save Ryan, me more than most but you’ve got to accept that we’re probably not gonna get him back, that we’re gonna have to kill-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there”

“It’s the last thing I want to do too, but you’ve gotta face facts, G let Ryan go once and he sure as hell ain’t gonna do it again, plus we have no idea where to even begin on finding some sort of cure”

He scoffed a little at the turn of events, Tyler being the last person he thought would leave Ryan to his fate “Didn’t think you gave up so easy Tyler, if we get Ryan back here we can do some tests, there’s always somethin’ we can do” As much as it made sense to him, not everyone seemed to agree, most of them casting small glances towards Scotty and Nogla who both refused to look at him until his stare became too much for them.

“We could do that, but honestly I don’t think we’re gonna get anywhere unless we get some of whatever shit they used on him, I mean we’d do our best but it’s not looking good, I’m sorry, Luke” He stared towards Scotty, frozen for a second as he processed the new information, well it definitely put a wrench in their plans but it still wasn’t impossible, however, before he could say anything, it was Brian’s turn to speak up.

“Look Luke, we wanna save him, but he shot Jon, the next person he goes for might not be so lucky and we can’t take that chance, unless of course, he means more to you then the lot of us” Now it was his turn to look somewhat uncomfortable as he was put under the microscope, with some of the guys squaring up a little, ready to argue with him if need be.

He took a deep sigh before he spoke, not wanting to come out and say this but it had to be done if he was to have the support of everyone, no matter how much he was against it “I’m gonna be real, I love you guys and I love Ryan, and as much as you don’t want to hear it, Ryan will always come first for me, but it also doesn’t mean I’m gonna let him kill anyone else if I have say”

He had to stop himself for a moment, debating with himself if he should come forward with this promise, but the expectant looks from everyone else made up his mind for him “If it comes down to it, if there’s no way of savin’ Ryan without casualty’s or if he’s too far gone to be saved, then I’m gonna be the one to take him out”

The sentence felt like a vice around his chest, squeezing the life out of him until he felt nothing more than an empty shell, surprised that he could even say the sentence without faltering, surprise that seemed to be shared with his friends as it was Evan that spoke next.

“Luke, that’s the last thing you should have to do, you don’t have-“

“Yes, I do, this whole thing is my responsibility and if Ryan’s too dangerous and hurts any one of y’all then that’s on me” He looked around the room at each of them, all of them giving him small nods, some more hesitant than others but eventually they all agreed “and if anyone else kills him I’ll make sure to kill them too, now can we please get back to fuckin’ work”

With that everyone hesitantly moved closer to him to glance down at the table, never settling on any one thing as they weighed the risks involved, and he was sure it would take them the better part of two days before they had any sort of plan formed.

********

It was the night before they made their final move against G, whether the other man knew they were coming he had no idea, not that he cared much, he just wanted this whole shitfest to be over, to get on with his life, but would he ever truly live again without Ryan beside him.

The constant reminder of what seemed to be the inevitable outcome weighed heavily on his shoulders and left him gasping for breath, unsure if he’d even have the strength to actually shoot the man he loved, let alone live without him.

As he mulled over their plan in his head whilst looking out on his home, standing on that roof that he reunited with Ryan on all those weeks ago, he couldn’t help but note that it was his family in there, a family he was willing to die for, but his heart was elsewhere, lost and fragile and on the verge of breaking.

Before he could carry on down that self-destructive path, a noise off to his left caught his attention, immediately bringing up the gun he always carried on him only to notice that it was Evan that joined him, letting out an exaggerated sigh before putting his gun back and turning back out again to look at the base and the sun set behind it, not looking when he felt the younger man move to stand beside him.

“For the record, I hope we bring Ryan back safely, he’s family you know and kil- losing him is the last thing I want”

All he could do was give a huff a laugh, one that was empty and hollow just like him, refusing to turn to the other man “Guess that makes two of us, surprised you don’t want him dead like the others after what he did to Del”

Now it was Evan’s turn to huff an empty laugh “I know that wasn’t Ryan, hell Ryan’s the reason Jon’s even still alive, I believe he can be saved, and I know you’ll bring him home”

“You know Ev, you almost sound like you’re not comin’ with”

“That’s cause I’m not” He can’t help but turn to the other man now, ready to chew him out for not being there in his hour of need but Evan interrupted him before he could say anything “I’m staying back in case G tries to counter-attack, the dude always seems to have the upper hand over us and I don’t want to be caught short this time, especially as Del and Tyler are still out of commission.

He can’t help but agree with the logic, it was better to take every precaution, but that also meant he was down four people, Brock included, and the odds against them only seemed to stack higher and it seemed Evan knew his doubts as he spoke up again.

“Del’s right, Ryan is the strongest of all of us and I have faith you’ll bring him back”

“At this point, I don’t know how much faith I have left”

“I’ve always had faith in you, Luke, we all have, it’s why we chose you to lead us and you haven’t lead us wrong yet”

He didn’t know how to answer, although simple, Evan’s words brought all the emotion he’d been keeping down to bubble up to the surface and he had to settle on the cracked voice when he next spoke “Shouldn’t you be getting’ back, they might start worryin’ about you”

He could practically feel the eye roll Evan gave him but nevertheless he took the hint and made a move to leave, but not before he reached into his pocket and the next thing he knew he had what looked like a bracelet being offered to him, trouble is, with Evans’ gadgets you never knew what you were truly getting.

“It’s got a tiny needlepoint in it, nothing that will hurt you, trust me, unless you want to stab yourself in the neck that is, but it has a toxin that’ll make someone unconscious and slow down their heartbeat enough to be considered dead”

“That’s all well and good but what the hell am I gonna use this for”

“I’m sure you’ll know when the time comes, could be a good way of getting out of a tricky situation, for you or someone else, if you catch my drift” He could almost feel the implied wink Evan was giving him, and suddenly their plan didn’t seem as bad as it once did, he had a way of saving Ryan, or at least getting him out safely, he admired the bracelet for another moment before putting it on, a comforting weight against his wrist that took off some of the weight that had settled on his shoulders.

“Thanks, Ev, for everythin’”

“’m just doing my job, just be sure to give em hell for me” He couldn’t help but smile then, his first genuine one since Jon first woke up but even that felt like a lifetime ago.

Before the other man could leave he quickly pulled him into a hug, it was only brief, but it definitely offered some much-needed comfort to him that Evan seemed all too happy to give.

Just as suddenly as it started the two of them pulled away, Evan bidding him a final ‘Good luck’ before he left, leaving him alone once again to return staring out at his city, his home.

Without thinking he reached a hand up to grasp the bullet he still kept chained around his neck, a symbol that signified the hope that Ryan wasn’t beyond saving, and all he could do was pray that whatever he did was enough to bring the other man back to him.

[cupcakezys]

Surprise.

A short little fluffy something for you all. :)

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur.

Summary: Merlin was acting suspicious. He had been for almost three days now, and Arthur was determined to find out what exactly he was up to. Fortunately, he was the Crown Prince, and as such he could get whatever he asked for, including information. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know what Merlin was doing. Arthur, naturally, thought them all a bunch of liars.   Especially Morgana.

“If you’re that curious, why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Morgana asked, clearly exasperated.

Arthur sighed and flopped down onto a nearby chair. “He won’t tell me, that’s why! I threatened him with the stocks earlier, and he just laughed at me. Laughed!”

Morgana snorted and moved from where she was fixing up her hair in her mirror. “That’s because he knows you don’t mean it.” She sat across from him and tapped the table with her fingernails. “You haven’t put him in the stocks for months Arthur. Even I know it’s an empty threat.”

Arthur glared at her. “Shut up.”

“If you’re just going to whine, then you can do it in your own room.” Morgana said. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Arthur sat up quickly. “So you do know something!”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I know everything.”

“Like Gaius.” Arthur mumbled. Then, louder. “Alright, name your price.”

She laughed. “My price?”

“For information.” Arthur sighed. “Considering no one else seems to know anything.”

Morgana shook her head. “Oh my dear Arthur. I already told you. I’m not telling you anything.”

Arthur groaned. “You’re evil.”

Morgana laughed, evilly, proving his point. Arthur slumped down in the chair and dropped his head to the table. He sighed. Merlin had been avoiding him all day. He’d hurried Arthur out of bed, dressed him before he’d even properly woken up, and then disappeared out the door without a backward glance. By the time Arthur was awake enough to search for him, he had already left the citadel.

“Arthur?”

Arthur looked up instantly. Morgana almost never sounded that scared. Worry bloomed, hot and fast.

She was looking down at the table intensely, refusing to meet his eyes. “I just- I wanted to ask you something.” Her eyes flickered up for a second before dropping back down. “About Ealdor.”

Arthur automatically tensed, weary. “What about it?”

She did look at him then, confusion mixed with something that looked suspiciously like hope. “Will.”

Arthur flinched, though he knew it was coming. “Will.”

“He has magic.” Morgana whispered, though they were alone, and the door was shut. “He has magic and you- you didn’t do anything!”

He clenched his jaw hard. “I thought you were of the opinion that sorcerers should be judged by their actions, not simply for having magic.”

“I am.” She insisted. “And you have no idea how reassuring it was to find a sorcerer that proved not all magic is evil- but that’s not the point!” She shook her head, started tapping the table again. “You’ve never seen magic as anything but evil.”

Arthur glanced at the door, though he knew it was still shut. “Just because I am not as verbal about my views does not mean they are so different from yours.”

Morgana eyes practically shone. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Arthur leaned back and smiled a little. “You were not the only one proven right in Ealdor.”

A lie. Arthur had been proven wrong long before that – been shown magic was not evil but beautiful and warm and loving – but that was something he could not say. He would not reveal Merlin’s secret, not even to Morgana, whom he trusted more than anyone else on the subject of magic, because it was not his secret to tell. And as for the secret that was his to tell, well. That might be a bit much for today. For both of them.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Well, I think I’d better be going. I have a wayward servant to find.”

Morgana blinked and glanced out the window. “Yes.” She grinned. “I think I’ve waylaid you for long enough.”

Arthur frowned. “What?”

Morgana stood and pushed him towards the door. Arthur let her, more out of confusion than anything. She shoved him out the door and leaned against the frame, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Evidently, Arthur’s revaluation hadn’t surprised her for long.

“Merlin should be waiting for you in the stables.” She glanced down his body, stopping at his boots. “Perhaps you should change into something better. And warmer. I imagine you’ll be gone for a few hours.”

And then she slammed the door in his face.

“What the hell.” Arthur asked the door.

The door, thankfully, didn’t respond. Morgana, however, did, her badly suppressed giggles following him down the hall.

Arthur reached his room and immediately went to stand in front of the mirror. He frowned. He didn’t see anything wrong with his clothes. His breeches were the same ones he always wore, and granted, his red tunic was a little loose and worn, but it looked fine. He stared at his reflection.

He looked fine, didn’t he?

He cursed to himself and roughly pulled his tunic off. He threw it over his shoulder and dived for his wardrobe, searching for something better.

“Better. Ha.” He mumbled to himself, flinging his leather hunting jacket out of the way. “What does that even mean? I’m the prince, all my clothes are better.”

He rummaged for several more minutes, muttering unpleasantries about a certain meddling woman, until he found what he was looking for. A relieved cry and grumbled “finally” filled the silence of his room.

He pulled on his white tunic – the one he used only for special occasions, surely that was better enough – and a pair of less scruffy-looking riding breeches. He hesitated a moment, then threw on his red jacket – the one with the studs, his favourite - just for good measure. There. That was undeniably better.

He snorted at his reflection. “You’re being ridiculous. A bigger fool than Merlin.”

It didn’t stop him from quickly combing through his hair, trying to right the mess he had made it into while he was changing. He gave himself a final once-over, and then he nodded and made his way out of his chambers.

The stables weren’t far, but by the time he reached them he was already wondering why he had felt the need to dress up so much. It was just Merlin. Even if they had only been courting for two weeks, and Arthur still wasn’t completely sure how he was supposed to court his manservant-turned-warlock-turned-lover, that didn’t mean he had to start getting all nervous like a girl.

He straightened his shoulders and walked into the stables.

Merlin was facing away from him, murmuring something to the horses. Arthur stood in the doorway, just watching. He did that a lot, where Merlin was concerned. It made something warm bubble up in his chest, just seeing Merlin doing something completely ordinary. Then Llamrei nickered at him in greeting, making Merlin turn, and Arthur had to pretend he hadn’t been staring for the past few minutes.

“So.” He said, before Merlin could do more than smile. “Am I finally going to find out what it is you’ve been hiding from me?”

Merlin’s smile was coy, and more than a little self-satisfied. “Maybe.”

“And are you always going to employ the help of Morgana when you need to sneak about?”

“I might.” Merlin said, giving him a once-over. Arthur tried not to feel self-conscious at his over-the-top outfit. “Did she pick this out?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You look amazing.”

Arthur flushed, suddenly pleased. “She suggested I wear something… better. And warmer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Apparently we’ll be gone for a few hours.”

Merlin hummed, reaching out to straighten his jacket slightly. “Yes. I informed your father you wanted to go on a hunt, just for the afternoon. He approved, said something about Cook requesting more venison.”

“Well then.” Arthur murmured, running his hands up Merlin’s arms until he reached where Merlin’s hands rested on his jacket. “What Cook wants, she must receive.”

Merlin swallowed and stepped away, ears pink. “Yes. Well. That’s what I thought.”

Arthur grinned and boldly stepped forward, placing a hand at the small of Merlin’s back. “Should we head out then, while it’s still light out?”

Red bloomed down Merlin’s neck, and he nodded silently. Arthur grinned. He’d gotten better at this over the weeks, mastering what made Merlin blush and what made him simply roll his eyes in fond exasperation. Never where anyone else could see, Arthur was still very aware of exactly who he was and what could happen to any that he cared for, but Merlin never seemed to mind, and Arthur made up for it plenty when they were alone.

They rode out without another word, Llamrei ready and eager to get going. Toscano followed close behind her, just as eager for their ride. Arthur saw the bags attached to his saddle, stuffed full to overflowing, and wondered again what Merlin had planned. He very much doubted it was something as simple as a mere hunting trip. Not with all the secrecy.

Arthur lasted all of ten minutes before he caved, turning in his saddle to Merlin. “Okay, where are we going?”

Merlin grinned and spurred Toscano forward, passing Arthur and taking the lead. “You’ll see.”

Arthur groaned, but urged Llamrei to follow behind him.

It took them almost an hour to reach wherever it was Merlin was leading them. He’d asked again, after half an hour of riding, exactly where it was they were going, but Merlin had just laughed and called it a surprise. Arthur had grunted and let Merlin’s babble wash over him. He hated surprises.

When Merlin finally announced they had arrived, Arthur had to wonder what exactly was supposed to be here. It looked like any other part of the forest to him, surrounded by trees and bushes. The only notable difference was a rock wall covered in vines in front of them. Arthur studied it, unimpressed.

“And where, exactly, is here, Merlin?” He drawled.

Merlin grinned and dismounted. “Just- hang on a moment.”

He grabbed Toscano’s reins and tugged on Llamrei’s until Arthur surrendered them to him. He tied both horses to a tree nearby, practically vibrating with excitement. Arthur dismounted as Merlin gathered all the bags into his arms, almost dropping them in his haste.

“Give me one of those before you fall over.” Arthur said.

“No!” Merlin squawked. “Just stay there. And close your eyes!”

Arthur groaned. “Merlin.”

“Arthur.” Merlin mimicked, then met his eyes around his burden. “Please?”

Arthur groaned again, but he was helpless to resist that look. He obediently closed his eyes, feeling silly as Merlin huffed and grunted around him. It was when he started walking away that Arthur tensed in not-quite-panic.

“Merlin?” He called. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see in a minute.” Merlin called, getting further away. A curse, as he probably tripped on something, and then louder. “Just do as your told and wait there until I get back. I’ll just be a minute.”

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, and would deny the whine in his tone until the end of time.

Merlin laughed. “I’m setting everything up! Now shut up before I give anything away.”

Arthur grumbled but fell silent, though he was still tensed. Everything in him told him to open his eyes, to watch his back for any enemies that could be creeping up on him, but he forced himself to stay as he was. Merlin would not put him in any danger. He’d probably put a spell over the entire area, keeping everyone away. It was something he’d taken to doing whenever Arthur found him alone somewhere in the castle and Merlin had asked him for a hug, or a kiss. The spell made it easy for Arthur to oblige each time.

“Alright!” Merlin called, and then he was making his way back to Arthur, loud as always. “It’s ready.” Arthur went to open his eyes, but Merlin slapped a hand over them before he’d even opened them halfway. “Keep your eyes shut!”

“How am I supposed to see where I’m going?” Arthur grumbled.

“I’ll guide you.”

“Right.” Arthur said. “If I fall, you’re fired.”

Merlin laughed and took his outstretched hand, his other hand going to Arthur’s waist. “Of course sire. Come on.”

Arthur would never admit it, but being led somewhere with his eyes shut was terrifying. Every step was a possible tumble, even with Merlin holding him so tightly, and Arthur did not fancy ending up with his face in the dirt. Still, he pushed through it, not wanting to ruin the surprise and disappoint Merlin.

“Okay.” Merlin said eventually, when they’d walk far enough that the delicate sounds of a small river had drowned out the snorting of their horses. “You can open your eyes now.”

Arthur hesitated, then slowly blinked his eyes open. Sunlight shone on his face, making him squint before he could even see anything. When he could see, all he could do was gasp and stare.

The first thing he noticed was the walls. They were completely surrounded by stone walls, as if they were in the middle of a great cave. That illusion was broken, however, by the sunlight streaming down on them. He studied where the wall of stone ended, and wondered. It looked awfully like someone had blown the rest of the stone away, so there was no roof on the cave. But that wasn’t what took his breath away.

Covering every inch of the cave-turned-paradise was a lush expanse of greenery. Flowers bloomed in the sunlight, reds and blues and purples growing in clusters. Soft grass covered every inch of the not-cave, and small shrubberies grew along the stone walls, vines creeping up behind them. A small stream of water trickled by his feet, the source of the sound of water. A blanket was spread out next to it, covered in all of Arthur’s favourite foods.

He turned to Merlin.

“Merlin- wha- how?” He gaped. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Merlin grinned, pleased with himself. “Well, the place was already huge when I found it. I just had to open up the top bit and encourage the plants to grow. The real challenge was getting the water to flow properly, but I managed to connect it up to a river nearby and it seems to work fine now.”

Arthur just stared at him, coming to terms with the fact that Merlin had made an entire little paradise, and that he hadn’t even found it difficult. Arthur was struck, again, with how powerful Merlin truly was. His magic was more than a weapon, more than a tool – it was beautiful and loving and everything that Merlin himself was.

Arthur could do nothing but stare as his lover rambled on about the water and how he had created this place, this wonderful, breathtaking place. He stepped forward, helplessly drawn to his warlock, his Merlin. He raised a hand to Merlin’s cheek, cutting off his voice. Merlin leaned into the touch, even as he cocked his head in question. Arthur said nothing, just stared for a moment longer before bringing his lips up to touch Merlin’s.

Merlin kissed him back, though Arthur could almost taste his confusion. It made him laugh into the kiss and pull away, Merlin looking more confused than ever. His laughter died down to chuckles as he rested his forehead against Merlin’s.

“You’re amazing.” He told him.                                                                                                           

Merlin smiled, the tips of his ears going red. “Come on, clotpole. The food’s getting cold.”

Arthur grinned and let Merlin pull him towards the picnic basket. Arthur dove for the food right away, starving after a certain someone had disappeared before he could serve him breakfast. Merlin chatted enough for the both of them anyway, filling Arthur in on all the castle gossip. And, well, if once the food was gone and Merlin had run out of gossip Arthur decided there were better things to do than talking, that was a secret entirely their own, hidden away in paradise.

 Arthur realized he had lied, before. He loved surprises.

But only if a certain warlock was the one surprising him.

-

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The next part is out. :)

[fueledbysprite]

Nathmarc November Day 9: Dance

oh look im alive

also rip my formatting screw you tumblr

Graduation.

They’ve all been waiting for this day for years, and yet now that it’s finally come, none of them really know how to feel about it. A strange mix of relief, regret, apprehension, and nostalgia hangs in the atmosphere, but a party is a party and they’re not going to waste their last day together as the graduating class of Collège Françoise Dupont. Tonight is the night for one last stab at making memories, before it’s all compressed, packed into a box, and shoved away to make headspace for lycée.

And making the most of it seems to be what everyone is determined to do tonight. Chloe, still on her awkward way to redemption, reserved the most luxurious hall at Le Grand Paris hotel, the effort into decoration and venue for this final night together is obvious. Nino has a mix ready for just this occasion, a playlist to highlight the interesting mixture of emotions that everyone’s going through at this point. Adrien and Marinette, the ever-iconic couple, have already initiated the couples dances, and Ivan and Mylene don’t take long to join them. Rose and Juleka are slightly more hesitant, then Kim runs to the floor with Ondine in one hand and Max in the other.

All while Nathaniel Kurtzberg and his fabulously aromantic best friend hang around by the snack bar, awkwardly watching the pairs (or, in Kim’s case, trio) dance it up on the center floor.

This is the last night, this is the last night, just one last night, Nathaniel repeats it over and over to himself under his breath, but his legs won’t move and his body is too stubborn to ask them to. They’ve been collaboration partners for goodness knows how long by now, but the exact dynamic of their relationship hangs in mid-air, not quite certain in any direction. He is an amazing friend, that part is certain, but is he more? And if he is, how much more? Nathaniel stares at the other side of the room, where the subject of his suppressed dilemma is currently engaged in conversation with Juleka’s older brother.

Marc, Nathaniel softly says his name out loud. That’s who his eyes are on tonight, and as uncertain as he’s convinced himself he is right now, the decisive voice in the back of his head is growing louder and he can’t keep denying it for much longer. No, he knows exactly what he wants tonight, what he’s been subconsciously wanting and hoping and dreaming and wishing for for months, now, but for all he is, he can’t find the right words. To be fair, he never could, not even after a childhood of growing up on comic books, he couldn’t word them himself. That’s what Marc was good at, wasn’t it? Too bad the one time he really, desperately needed Marc’s help with words was the one time he couldn’t.

Alix isn’t helping. At all. He glances over at her for support probably the umpteenth time tonight, but she’s resolutely ignoring him and instead occupying herself with taking a video of Kim’s antics on the dance floor. He already knows what she’d say even if he hadn’t driven her up a wall already with his panicked lament. She’d look him straight in the eye, draw herself up to full height, and, with a completely deadpan expression, say, “Just. Do it.” And he would go off blabbering about how badly he wanted to but just couldn’t and, well, yeah he really can’t blame Alix for resorting to giving him the cold shoulder at this point.

So he’s alone. He takes a slow sip of his shocking purple punch and cautiously chances another glance at Marc. Nathaniel sighs. Last night, last chance, final call…

***

Marc casually glances away from Luka for 0.1 seconds and immediately snaps his gaze back to the guitarist. He couldn’t be imagining it at this point, Nathaniel has definitely been watching him for the last how long had it even been now? He nods along to whatever Luka was saying, smiling with interest, but not really processing any of it. How could he, when his mind has been monopolized by someone else for at least the entirety of today. It’s his last chance to confess, last time he’ll probably ever have to tell Nath how he’s really felt towards him for the past year or so- it makes him scrunch up and hide his head in his hands just from the thought of it.

Well, to be fair, that isn’t entirely true, either. It’s not like they’re going to be attending different lycées or anything, but they aren’t taking the same courses and the chance they’ll actually be in the same class for any of them is pretty low. What Marc’s really most afraid of, even though he’s never going to ever admit to anyone in a million, bajillion years (and yes that is totally a word), is that Nath is inevitably going to end up in a much bigger fish pond than this small collège. And bigger means more people. And if someone new meets him and discovers how amazing Nathaniel really is and then start to feel towards him like Marc does- it makes his stomach twist that this thought has even occurred to him at all, and even moreso that Nathaniel really isn’t his and he has no right to feel possessive of him like this. Being able to even just be his collaboration partner, be producing the scripts to the comics whose concept art he’s only ever admired from afar, having his literal name on the literal front page of the comic books for all to see, he feels guilty for wanting more in spite of it all. Isn’t that human nature, to only ever crave more and yearn and hunger, never to be truly fulfilled? It’s not a nice feeling, but he’s wanted Nath for so, so long, and if he has a chance and loses it he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself.

And of course, the cherry on top of his anxiety, does Nath even feel the same way?

Marc doesn’t even notice himself absentmindedly picking at his nail polish, redone by Luka himself just for tonight, until Luka waves his hand in front of Marc’s face and asks him if he’s okay.

“You seem kind of out of it,” Luka says, and Marc whips his stare away from the either oblivious or now-self-conscious redhead on the opposite end of the room.

“I’m fine,” Marc assures him quickly, cheeks warming.

“Hey Luka, mind if I steal Marc for a second?” Marinette’s innocent voice comes out of nowhere and Marinette herself suddenly materializes next to Marc.

“Go right ahead,” Luka tells her, winking, and she giggles softly before dragging Marc away. Marc’s mind only strays from Nathaniel to briefly wonder what’s up between Marinette and Luka, but he doesn’t dwell on it for long at all, not when there are far more pressing matters to be addressed. Thankfully his mind zips back to the moment just in time to catch Marinette before she goes too far.

“Stop it right there,” he stops her, and she complies. “I know exactly what you’re doing and I’m not going to let you go any further.”

She looks at him in half-hearted exasperation and frustration.

“If I don’t help you get from Point A to Point B, who is?” she points out.

“I can do it myself,” he says hastily, and she raises an eyebrow that most obviously says “oh, really?”

“I can!” he repeats defensively, and Marinette laughs.

“I’m just teasing, you know that, of course. But really, are you sure you can?” she challenges, and he swallows. “See, told you! Trust me, I can help you, and I know just what to do,” she winks.

If anything, that makes him less at ease.

“No,” he refuses flatly. “I can do it myself and I’ll prove it,” he decides, reasoning that anything is better than another one of Marinette’s failed ploys.

Marinette, bless her heart, may be well-intending, but she was not very good at wingwomaning.

Which was how he ended up here, staring at the floor, heart sinking like he was walking to his own execution, breathing shallow, his mind ceasing to function but his mouth managing to move just enough to whisper words of encouragement to his pitiful self.

“Just put one...foot...in front...of another...” he mutters softly. It works. Too well, apparently, because he ends up in front of Nathaniel a lot sooner than he’d have ideally liked to.

Nathaniel looks up in surprise.

“Oh, hi, M-” But he doesn’t get to finish because Marc knows that if he doesn’t do this now, he never will again.

“Will you dance with me,” he says, voice just above a breath.

“S-sorry?” Nathaniel asks, eyes widening. Marc sets his resolve even more solid and takes a deep breath.

“Will you dance with me?” he repeats, fully aware that the mix is transitioning to the last couples song on the track. It’s now or never.

“Y-yes?” Nathaniel manages to stutter out, and Marc feels himself deflate and soar up with relief at the same time.

They’re both a little shaky walking up to the dance floor. Even more awkward trying to figure out how to go about this. Nath ultimately takes the lead, placing one of Marc’s hands on his own, Marc placing the other on the redhead’s shoulder himself. The first steps are uncomfortable as heck, but they make do, avoiding looking at each other at all cost. At some point, Nathaniel feels a sudden surge of adrenaline and breaks their hold on either to tilt Marc’s chin up, looking him right in the eye.

Their steps become smoother, almost fluid, as their bodies move without thinking, without sensing, practically floating on a fluffy cotton cloud of bliss. They’re lost in each other’s gaze for heavens knows how long, and when the song finally slows to a finale, it feels like it’s been forever in a blink. They jerk back to reality, staggering off the dance floor, nothing short of euphoria in the air. Alix is applauding, and Marinette, and Adrien and Rose and Juleka too. The others don’t seem to have noticed anything, but the world has flipped almost upside down for Marc and Nathaniel.

“So, I guess it’s a little late to ask this, but, uh...you want to be my boyfriend?” Nathaniel asks shyly, cheeks flushed with happiness.

Marc doesn’t even bother giving him a reply, instead tackling him in an embrace, kissing him on the cheek for the sake of holding back. Someday there’ll be a day for a real first kiss, but today isn’t it, and Marc doesn’t care at this point.

They’re boyfriends. They’re happy. And collège is finally over. The only reasonable thing to do tonight is celebrate the heck out of this evening. The first few lyrics of Panic! at the Disco’s Victorious float over from Nino’s DJ Booth, and party the night away they do indeed.