#i think i am the only person whos completely neutral on the new pack

[agent-calivide]

IEYTD 3 Theory

I fully plan on making a full blown theory video compiling all of my evidence, HOWEVER, I am also an impatient bitch who wants to be able to say "I called it" in case this ends up taking a month to make or something like that- so enjoy a new textwall :)

MAJOR IEYTD 3 SPOILERS

In the latest game, you can find seven coins known as phantom coins that are left by a mysterious person known only as the Phantom. Six of them are hidden in each level and then one additional one you find in your main hub that you unlock after beating the game. Getting all the coins reveals a note left by the phantom that reads: “It seems you’re as good as they say, Phoenix. They used to say I was good, too. But I made a choice. And before they get you killed, I hope you realize you have the same choice: to die or to live.”

At the bottom there's a code that reads “I Expect You To Live” when deciphered. There's also notably a line from the Handler where he comments on how the person who gets those coins where they need to be has to be even stealthier than Phoenix, which is impressive since Phoenix is the top agent currently.

But it wasn’t always that way. Phoenix has only recently risen to Agency Fame, there was an agent that was number one before them, and we know who it is. At the end of every level in IEYTD 3, we open in a board room of sorts, looking down at our office in the Babadag EOD base, and to the side of us there’s a wall of portraits, all of various important figureheads of the EOD. The director, the our handler, doctor Prism, etcetera, but one of them is missing. Snoop around, and you find a portrait of a young, brunette woman, V. Vitti, reveled to be Valeri Vitti if you play with subtitles on, and she is labeled as the lead field agent. The previous number one.

Between the fact that she was taken off the wall and hidden, it didn’t take long to conclude that VV was the Phantom, supported by the fact that the star icon that’s associated with the phantom looks like two interlocking V’s. Valeri Vitti.

Now we know who the phantom is, but that doesn’t really do much for us story wise other than maybe the promise of facing our predecessor in a future game, how does a character that’s never been mentioned even in passing until now really pack a narrative punch? Except, the phantom has been there, even if she was never mentioned.

In the first game, in operation Winter Break, we see a portrait of a young brunette woman in Zor’s office. The very same woman who’s in a group photo with all of the other figureheads, V. Vitti. I’ve seen a lot of people conclude that this means that either Vitti is Zor, or she’s working with Zor, but I don’t personally buy it.

When it comes to her being Zor, it doesn’t really make sense. Zor is shown to be very protective of their identity, not only using voice modulators any time they talk to Phoenix, but also using the neutral terms “they/them” according to the devs in the official discord. As far as I know, this has not changed, even if Schell uses “he” on occasion while talking about the game in interviews. Functionally, when talking about the context of the games and what we’ve been presented, we aren’t supposed to know anything about Zor. Race, gender, age, it’s all up in the air, a nebulous void of information. And we’re supposed to think this person? Who has hidden their identity to the point of having a completely blank file with nothing but “confidential” slapped all over it also has a massive portrait of themselves in their office? Not only that, but in their office that’s primed to go off with traps in case an agent gets in? It seems reckless at best, and honestly really out of character to me.

Zor having an egotistical display of themselves in their office is more like something Juniper would do. Zor isn’t one to lavish themselves in attention and make themselves the focus of anything. They only come out of the shadows when things get serious. Phoenix interrupting the peacekeeper, finding their hidden lab where they ran the kinesium experiments that could foil their entire plot, getting to Operation K-Boom and working with Prism to thwart their other major scheme. They wouldn’t just have their whole identity on display and risk losing their anonymity. But you know what it does look like? A photo of a loved one on your desk. It’s quite common in offices, be it corporate or cubical, to have photos of your loved ones to get you through the day, to remember what you’re doing it for while you’re making a thousand spreadsheets and wanting to bash your head into your desk. It’s a way to have a piece of yourself and what you care about at work.

So Zor knows the Phantom but isn’t her, why would they not be working together in that case? After all, the Phantom seems just on keen on getting Phoenix off the field as Zor, isn’t that a good sign that they have the same goals?

Not exactly.

Zor shows such contempt for Phoenix, they want that agent dead, and they want it to be as soon as possible. They don’t want Phoenix off the field by any means necessary, even if that’s a comfy retirement, they want them gone. Out of the picture, they celebrate when Phoenix dies. If you look at the coroner report, there’s a note in the corner from Zor that says they understand if people want to take time to celebrate. Zor, the person who has crummy escape pods for their workers that frequently lead to their Operatives getting killed, has little qualms about dropping their scientists into fiery infernos over who knows how minor of an infraction, has their workers in the mines do inhumanly long shifts and simply won’t let them leave, and in some cases outright lies to their workers and leaves them abandoned at work sites like Ollie in the underwater lab, gives permission for their workers to party, if for a short while, in the event of the death of the Phoenix.

That goes beyond some minor or even major inconvenience, Zor puts their basic fundamentals aside to allow everyone a window of celebration in the even of Phoenix’s death. There is no way they’d leave a note saying they expect Phoenix to put themselves first and take care of themselves, to put themselves before the EOD. Nor would any of their top operatives or moles, everyone at Zoraxis despises Phoenix, and it’s Phoenix in specific. None of these people want Phoenix to go have a peaceful life in the country side, they want to mount the agents head on a wall like a trophy.

But someone who would?

A former agent who was in Phoenix’s exact shoes.

Throughout IEYTD 3, you can flip between Public Radio and Agency Radio. The public radio is mostly just the game soundtrack with a few little advertisements that tell you more about the world, but the Agency radio is much more interesting. Through it, we get updates on the EOD’s world, we hear a handler give run-downs to all of the agents about what’s going on with the Kinesium experiments, what’s going on with Prism, rules about staying a football field away from other agents, things like that. But one of the first things we hear from this agency broadcast is that Agent Phoenix is not just a secret agent. They’re a famous secret agent. One so big that the amount of agents joining the EOD is staggering, and they’ll run out of kinesium for their TK chips at this rate.

A funny little side tangent for sure, but consider: What’s keeping former agents off of those radio waves? Nothing, in fact, we see that the station is compromised in a note left BY the Phantom, and the last phantom coin you get is by entering a code left on your desk by them with said note. So who’s to say Vitti didn’t have access to an agency radio, heard everything that was going on with the Phoenix, and chose to step in. To let them know that there is another option. That Phoenix doesn’t have to keep risking their life for an agency that treats them like a number and a trophy rather than a person. But she didn't want her identity potentially outed, so she quickly took her photo off the wall and tucked it into a hiding space in hopes of Phoenix not finding it.

But Zor does know Vitti. After all, her portrait is in their office. Which leads to my next point, we hear in Operation: Squeaky Clean from the first game that Zor’s not doing these things because they’re just a bad person who wants to watch the world burn. They specifically want vengeance on the agency, but vengeance for what? Sure, it could just be the agency constantly getting in the way of their plans, but what made them start in the first place? What drove them to decide that they wanted to go down this route of villainy? Surely there’s gotta be something other than just “they want to rule the world”, Zor basically already ruled it at the beginning of the series. They’re a corporate billionaire that was able to get away with filling popsicles with enough lead to kill a person instantly, and they didn’t get anything more than a slap on the wrist? They could have done anything they wanted at that point, why make a giant death laser in outer space, they coulda spent that money doing literally anything else?

But who do they aim it at? Not the heads of state. Not a symbol of peace. Not even a test run in the ocean. Their first ever laser strike is aimed at an EOD base. An EOD base with the man that at some point was the lead support agent, someone who knew Vitti personally, Reginald Crane. Our Handler. That wasn’t a random shot, nor was it a scheme to take over the world. It was a personal attack on the Enhanced Operatives Division.

So, jump a few pet sharks with me as I spin a story for you. The EOD is established and has dozens, hundreds of competent agents even, and they’re able to stop international global crisis and villainous organizations by working underground. As time goes on, one agent stands out from the rest, Valari Vitti, an agent so good at sneaking in without a trace, she quickly climbs the ranks and becomes the lead field agent at the EOD.

But people are more than just their work, as is Vitti. She could be a friend, a sister, or, and this is my personal theory, someone’s lover. Their wife. Sure, working at the EOD is dangerous, but that’s just part of it, and if her partner knew, say they too worked at the EOD or Vitti was simply able to open up about her work, then there’d be no secrets. A needed relief from the stress of agency things. No need for a double life, she’d be able to be herself around them.

But as she keeps progressing up the ranks, she realizes things can’t go on like this forever. She can’t keep going to this dangerous job, there are risks! How long until she was hurt? Maimed? Killed!? She can’t keep doing this. It’s not viable, she likely will die if she doesn’t make this decision for herself and leave.

So. She does. She doesn’t resign, doesn’t go through the process of making an official exit, she just disappears. If she simply resigned, her photo wouldn’t still be up, and it sure as heck wouldn’t be tucked away in the pot of a random snake plant. The EOD could have found her a replacement, some sort of backup, anyone who’s worked in business has watched a coworker die and get replaced in chillingly short time, something the EOD doesn’t seem to be above. They can’t afford to be above it, agents die every day.

So there’s no reason for Vitti’s portrait to still be in that frame if she died. But if she simply vanished, then that could explain why she’s still up there on that wall. The EOD didn’t replace her, because they may have still been looking for her. We know that when an agent vanishes, the EOD sends people to try and recover them. The site of the PeaceKeeper is checked for Phoenix’s body, we know it is thanks to Reginald’s recording at the end of IEYTD 2. The EOD always will try to find an agent or what remains of them.

Over time, perhaps they gave up. Went to close the case but never got around to it because the EOD is always busy.

But Vitti’s spouse never forgot. They sure as hell never forgave either. Their wife was gone without a trace, and they had nothing left of her but her photos and an EOD lighter that they keep in a safe in their office. They knew they had to get revenge, they had to make the people that took their loved one suffer. So, they went to work. They established a business and gave themselves the fake name Zor and called the business Zoraxis.

They hunker down, and simply plot and scheme for a while. They claw their way up the social and economic ladder. They cut every corner, take every shortcut, and they hoard as much money as they possibly can and establish themselves as a cruel, immoral person that doesn’t care about the health or safety of their workers on the way up. As time goes on, they start their second half of their plan: Creating an entire establishment with the main goal of taking down the EOD.

They take in anyone who will help with their goals, the more deranged the better. A scientist who loves to burn things and wants to create a super laser? Give her the money and tell her to fire her first shot at the building their late wife used to work at. An unhinged fashion designer obsessed with maiming and death? Wonderful, you can deal with all the pains in my side that get in the way. Anything to finally bring down the people who cost them everything.

But the Death Engine didn’t work. Not only did some random pest destroy it, it didn’t even take down one of the people they wanted dead the most, the lead Support Agent. Maybe Zor particularly hates the man who was supposed to be watching Vitti, keeping her safe. And now?

Not only is he alive, but he’s taken on a new agent who’s taking Vitti’s place? Some random nobody who’s been a pest, who should have died ages ago, not only was getting in their way, but was also apparently good enough to replace their lost loved one without so much as a passing glance? No. They were going to take down the EOD one way or another. The EOD’s a secret organization from even the government, maybe if they take hostile control then they’ll be able to take them down. Sure, the EOD survived a laser, but there’s no way they’ll survive nukes, right? Surely, surely that will get them their revenge-

But no. That agent comes back. They come back and ruin everything. By the time Operation K-Boom happens, not only has the Phoenix ruined several of their most complicated plans that were years in the making, but they had solidly taken the position of their late wife. They took the only thing she had left. A legacy. How dare that pesky Phoenix think they can just step in and replace the one they hold dearly so carelessly? So thoughtlessly? They. Had. To. Die.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Phoenix wins, and Zor is back to the drawing board. The only major thing that gets in the way of this is why wouldn’t Vitti tell her partner that she was leaving the EOD? Going into hiding? Well, the IEYTD franchise isn’t a stranger to having agents split off. In Operation Fifth Class, we see Phoenix try to rescue a woman known as Anna Ulanova. Anna says a few things to the agent, but the last thing we hear is her saying she’d try to come find them, but she had a suspicion that they wouldn’t leave their life. They wouldn’t quit fieldwork.

So we’ve seen cases where there’s an agent and someone who’s not quite in the circle but is aware of what’s going on splitting off because the agent can’t stop putting work first. In the same vein, we’ve seen other relationships fall apart due to someone being unable to stop putting work first.

Leading up to the third game, Schell games released a bunch of ciphers and puzzles that lead to minor lore drops. One of them was shawnsdesk, a collection of files made by Shawn in HR about various characters from the franchise. Most of them were important characters. Solaris, Fabricator, Juniper, Zor, but there were two that were notable.

Shawn in HR, and Sam in accounting. Shawn’s is, of course, mostly just him inflating his own ego and talking about how good he is at making files on all of the people at the EOD, but Sam is where it gets interesting.

We have heard nothing about Sam at this point, and looking over the file, it’s messy. Full of snide insults, catty remarks, Shawn filling this report with resentment, but over what? A bad breakup. Sam telling Shawn that he can’t be with him because Shawn won’t stop putting work first. Why would Schell show us this now, during this window of time where everyone's clawing for more lore and content of the third game? Why show a random lover's quarrel in the middle of all of this story relevant content? I suspect that it's because Shawn and Sam's story is lore relevant, it's just not their lore we're meant to be focused on.

This series has a running theme of two people getting along, maybe even being in love or romantically inclined, and then it falling apart because someone can’t stop putting work first. Phoenix and Anna, Sam and Shawn, and now, or rather long in the past, Vitti and Zor. Maybe, the two were in a rough patch, or had gotten into arguments about Vitti's dangerous work. Maybe she was sick of feeling this upset resentment for her partner and decided she didn’t just want to quit the EOD and try to fix things with Zor. She wanted out. She wanted to start over. Completely over. She wanted to live.

[rogue205]

Unpopular Opinion Rant

I’m still in my Teen Wolf phase and re-watching the show. 

Holy. Hell. I can’t stand Scott. I hate how much of a hypocritical, seeing in straight black and white with no grey, thinks-he’s-got-the-moral-high-ground, self-serving, egotistical prick he really is. He constantly whines about being a werewolf but happily uses his new abilities to become better at lacrosse, increase his popularity, and basically betray Stiles’ friendship because he got better than him. Maybe it’s just me but I really don’t see anywhere in his attitude that warrants him being labeled a “True Alpha”.  I guess it’s all about “willpower and strength of character” but the show implies that one only achieves this level by being good and Scott is not as good and right as he thinks he is. 

Also what gets me a lot is the ending of both season one and season two. (3-6 don’t exist for me, especially the whole Jackson/Ethan thing. Seriously? Ethan? No. Why not Danny or anyone else?! I also hated the whole turning Jackson into a Kanima/Wolf hybrid. He is NOT a damn hybrid! Once he completed his transformation at the end of Season 2, he became a WEREWOLF!!!)

First, yes, I get that the writers wanted to depict Peter as a psychotic bad guy but maaaaaaaybe don’t have him go through a hugely traumatic event where he saw near his entire family burn to death, something he himself also barely survived. He also went feral because of broken pack bonds and the fact that his new Alpha just abandoned him to die. So all that, and the “morally superior good guys” decide the only way to stop him was to set him on fire. Again. Explain to me how that makes them better? Because they pretty much set a burn trauma survivor on fire again and didn’t care. 

Second, I hate Scott’s actions regarding Gerard Argent and the fact that he forced Derek to bite the bastard against his will. Sure, he had a plan but did he actually tell it to anybody? Hmmmm. It seems he does that a lot. Scott also didn’t seem to give a damn that Gerard had all but tortured Stiles, a person who was supposed to be his best friend but who cares about that as long as Scott gets what he wants and people do what he wants. That last part was never mentioned in the show anyway so I guess... 🤷‍♀️. 

I know Scott was also one of the few who wanted to save Jackson as opposed to killing him, but let us not forget Peter helped to save him too, even if it is unclear here whether he had an ulterior motive for it. (It’s really too bad that Colton Haynes left after this season because I am completely convinced that Jackson would have been revealed as Peter’s son given all the buildup thus far. But it’s very likely that the writers would have eventually reduced Jackson to a prop to hold up Scott as well eventually so maybe Colton actually did himself a favour.)

Back to Peter, I know many will disagree with me on this, but I like him. Peter is what one would call a “chaotic neutral” and Ian Bohen’s acting is just so incredible, he makes it very hard to hate this guy even when he’s being a snarky smartass. (Or is that he’s so good that he makes you hate the character like you’re supposed to? In that case, he failed with me). Yes, he killed his niece, but it’s also heavily implied that he wasn’t all there mentally during that part because of all the trauma, the psychological damage of being trapped in his body for six years, and the fact that Laura abandoned him, as mentioned before plus wasn’t Jennifer manipulating him? Do NOT even get me started on how unbelievable the whole “Peter willingly working with Kate” thing is. Seriously, if season one was any indication, he should’ve immediately tried to kill her again once he realized she was still alive. 

Another thing that irks me is Derek and the pack’s constant need to hold everything over Peter’s head when it was actually Derek who gave Kate everything she needed to wipe out his family. But Derek gets all the slack for that instead. I don’t hate Derek at all but come on! 

This leads me to my final point of the rant and that is the writers reducing the Hales to props to try and keep Scott credible as an Alpha and nothing more, even dismantling the Hale pack entirely at one point. Yes, Derek does it to save Cora but they officially wiped out a powerful, centuries old werewolf pack just like that. Only way I’ll get over this is if they eventually give the Hales a spin-off much like the Originals from the Vampire Diaries. I mean more young Peter? Hell yes!!!! Young Derek? Sure, I’m game! Actually showing Talia as a fleshed out character? 🙋‍♀️ Me!!! Also it may get me to like Laura as it would take her beyond this one-dimensional person that we know now. Who knows.

[giffingthingsss]

Lewis, Clarke, and Roddenberry

What set me about writing the book was the discovery that a pupil of mine took all that dream of interplanetary colonization quite seriously.

Lewis

It's been forever since I read Out of the Silent Planet. I will confess I remember almost nothing. I was a tiny person. I was too young for Perelandra and didn't finish it (I also kind of doubt it's up my alley, but maybe someday).

Pretty much all I remember is that they involve two untainted worlds whose fate hinges on a human stopping other humans from corrupting them. (I hesitate to compare them to Avatar, which I found hopelessly bland, but there are parallels. Avatar with mythological meat behind it?)

The impetus grew from Lewis sitting amongst the scientific minds of Oxford and being genuinely concerned that these men sincerely wanted to engage in interplanetary travel. He called them

little rocket societies bent on exporting the crimes of mankind to other planets

Leave those aliens alone.

I look forward with horror to contact with the other inhabited planets, if there are such. We would only transport to them all of our sin and our acquisitiveness, and establish a new colonialism. I can’t bear to think of it.

Science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke wrote to him objecting to the viewpoint that scientists were like his antagonist Weston and that humanity would only muck up other worlds.

He believed that going into space would make man 'grow up,' a very Roddenberry-esque idea. In fact you might call it the exact same idea.

A portion of the letter from 1943 -

It is true that the human race is still in its infancy but I believe that astronautics more than any other single development will accelerate the coming age of our species. National rivalries, which have caused most of the misery of the past, will finally appear in their proper perspective when they can be seen against the background of the stars.

A portion of Lewis' reply -

I don’t of course think that at the moment many scientists are budding Westons: but I do think (hang it all, I live among scientists!) that a point of view not unlike Weston’s is on the way... I agree Technology is per se neutral: but a race devoted to the increase of its own power by technology with complete indifference to ethics does seem to me a cancer in the universe.

To someone else, Lewis wrote -

The point I wanted to make is that excessive excitement about gadgetry and the belief (Weston’s belief) that the possession of, say, wireless & aeroplanes, somehow makes one superior to those who lack them & even justifies one in conquering such people, is bosh. My motto would be ‘Have your toys, have your conveniences, but for heaven’s sake don’t start talking as if those things really mattered as, say, charity matters.’

Lewis: an anti-space colonialist.

Lewis and Clarke (pun intended) liked each other even if they disagreed. Clarke invited Lewis to a debate on the subject.

I am sure your appearance would arouse great interest, as many of our members admire your writings even if they may not see eye to eye with them.

Lewis replied -

The fatal objection is that I should be covering ground I have already covered in print and on which I have nothing to add. I know that is how many lectures are made, but I never do it. I might at a pinch show great fortitude about the boredom of the audience, but then there’s my own. But thank your society very much for the invitation and convey my good wishes to them as regards everything but interplanetary travel. P.S. - Probably the whole thing is only a plan for kidnapping me and marooning me on an asteroid!

Clarke replied -

I promise you that if we do have an opportunity of marooning you on an asteroid we will give you time to pack your winter woolies.

The two met once and wrote a few more times. They mostly kept in touch through Joy who attended the same science fiction club as Clarke.

Oh, by the way, Clarke was later on friendly terms with some guy named Gene Roddenberry.

Arthur literally made my Star Trek idea possible... My association with the Clarke mind and concepts began in 1964 with his book Profiles of the Future. In 1969, I travelled to Arizona to listen to a Clarke lecture on astronomy, where…. I was persuaded by him to continue my Star Trek projects despite the entertainment industry’s labelling the production as an unbelievable concept and a failure.

Star Trek

Lewis died in 1963, three years before Star Trek first aired (It's insane to me that Lewis lived that late. He seems like a product of the 1800's or something). What would he have thought about it? Probably nothing since he didn't watch television. But if he did he would have seen many familiar ideas he had already encountered in print.

In an odd way, Roddenberry's ideas weren't all that contrary to his. Humanity goes into space after getting its s*&t together. And policies like the Prime Directive are essentially anti-colonial. Lewis' fear that mankind would mess with other worlds and ruin them is assuaged. Ethics are stressed. Episodes like Mirror, Mirror, in contrast, are almost illustrations of Lewis' fears.

Their conflict would no doubt arise in the reason for this 'getting of s*&t together.' The 'perfectibility of man' debate.

Lewis would say such a transformation of the human race would require a spiritual awakening, that man needs help. Roddenberry would call it something like evolutionary progress. Man would simply evolve past its problems (such an evolution would realistically take thousands or perhaps even millions more years, not two hundred, but whatever. flying through space accelerates us I guess. threshold pun).

This is what is responsible for the utopia on earth, not any one system. Whatever system exists in the Trek world works because humanity has simply 'learned better.' They don't exploit it or each other because they don't want to.

Man has gone from knowing very well what the right thing is, but not wanting to do it, to finding it virtually unthinkable to do anything else.

Everyone is treated equally, there is no greed, no want, no envy, etc... We don't go to war with each other because we have no desire to do so. We're past all that. We simply want to become the best versions of ourselves possible.

Some of Arthur Clarke's work involves mankind evolving to gain new abilities and achieve an almost godlike status, etc... And he's hardly the only early writer to come up with something similar.

You can sense a 20th century man looking around at all the new technology and scientific breakthroughs and being convinced that the next stage of evolution was right around the corner. Those same ideas find their way into Star Trek, not just through an earthly utopia, but through hints that humans will evolve into things like the Q or past requiring physical bodies (or into lizards), etc...

Encounters with 'divine' aliens is something rather unique to the shows when Roddenberry was still alive. I suspect because that's when the guys who had been influenced by early scifi were still around.

Trek does not stick with its 'perfected man' theory for long, even in Roddenberry's time, as it's almost impossible to tell stories that way. Fast forward to modern Picard and it has almost disappeared entirely. Trek is now current man in space.

People put that down to modern writers 'not knowing star trek' when really it's modern writers not knowing early to mid 20th century science fiction. The audience largely doesn't know it either. Times have changed. For us the bloom is largely off the technological rose. We barely remember when the bloom was on it.

But this new depression brings us back around to a demand for escapism, to get away from our problems for a while and live in another world. The demand for a hopeful Trek (albeit one that no longer stems from 40s ideas, but is a thing all its own) grows with it.

In 1954, Clarke included a line in a letter to Lewis about not being interested in writing a story set on Earth. He admitted that might make him guilty of 'escapism.'

Lewis replied -

About ‘escapism’, never let that flea stick in your ear. I was liberated from it once & for all when a friend said ‘These critics are v. sensitive to the least hint of Escape. Now what class of men wd. one expect to be thus worked-up about Escape?–Jailers.’ Turn-key critics: people who want to keep the world in some ideological prison because a glimpse at any remote prospect wd. make their stuff seem less exclusively important.

Addendums

Inspiration from Voyage to Arcturus:

Voyage to Arcturus is not the parody of Perelandra but its father. It was published, a dead failure, about 25 years ago. Now that the author is dead it is suddenly leaping into fame: but I’m one of the old guard who had a treasured second hand copy before anyone had heard of it. From Lyndsay I first learned what other planets in fiction are really good for: for spiritual adventures. Only they can satisfy the craving which sends our imaginations off the earth. Or putting it another way, in him I first saw the terrific results produced by the union of two kinds of fiction hitherto kept apart: the Novalis, G. Macdonald, James Stephens sort and the H. G. Wells, Jules Verne sort.

Arthur Clarke on Joy -

Lewis wrote a favorable review of Childhood's End back to Joy. A portion -

It is a strange comment on our age that such a book lies hid in a hideous paper-backed edition, wholly unnoticed by the cognoscenti, while any 'realistic' drivel about some neurotic in a London flat - something that needs no real invention at all, something that any educated man could write if he chose, may get seriously reviewed and mentioned in serious books - as if it really mattered. I wonder how long this tyranny will last?

Joy showed it to Clarke (probably the reason this particular letter survived while the others have been lost), and Clarke asked if he could quote from it. A Lewis blurb appeared on the back cover of the UK edition.

[cruisinfdr]

[rose-likesto-write]

You matter the most..

Pairing: Winner's Song Min Ho x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: Fluff, cringest fluff

AU!: Idol member, established relationship

Warning: mention of cardiac arrest (once), bullying (mention of word)

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.3 K

A/N: Hey dear anon!! Thank you so much for requesting it!! I hope that you will like it and I am sorry if it wasn't something you wanted to read. Please it's a request to send me your valuable feedbacks, it genuinely means alot :)

Also this gif isn't mine..

Summary: Being in love is one feeling and your partner making you feel it day in and out is another..

'What is going on today? Why is everyone looking like this at me as if they are gonna open their mouth a blunder will occur' You thought while nibbling on the edge of your pen a habit which you developed as a result of being tensed.You didn't know what and why but you had this feeling as if it's important day for you but the there is as such no sign to confirm the day.

The whole day is weird, first all your colleagues are acting as if something has happened but they don't wanna tell you, your work bestie Gia had came up with a lame excuse which left you alone to do the project by yourself and that bully worker of yours nowhere to be present.

I mean, ofcourse you are happy that she isn't here because she terribly a pain in ass but like no matter what even if it's for one second you guys pass by you don't keep back from hurling a few sassy remarks.

She kinda hates you because she is delusional person and the reason you ask why? She came to know or rather saw who your boyfriend was which was none other than Song Min Ho aka Winner's Mino. (She was his die hard fan)

Mino is an angel in disguise in your life and you are always so so grateful and thankful that you have such a loving partner by your side. He is one of the live examples of duality, the way he speaks, his presence and aura gives the vibe of being powerful, strong headed but it's only you, his family, his friends and the fans who know his sweet and sensitive personality.

Now, speaking of Mino is that he wasn't able to talk you for the past two days but you didn't mind considering that he was currently in the foreign state preparing for a show at the moment.

Currently, it's 7 pm and you are almost through with the project just the final touches and rechecking of the final draft.You let a yawn escape before a knock came in on the door, "Please come in".

"Y/N, you may leave now and I know about the project as Gia already told me. Its okay, I will see to it. Have a great and happy birthday to you"Your boss said with a small smile before closing the door. "Okay, that's weird but today isn't my birthday. Its still 26th and my birthday is on 27th. Maybe he got confused. Anyways, let's go back!" You said to yourself before packing up and leaving the office.

Somehow, the happy birthday was running through your head but you didn't mind. It was almost quarter to 8 when you reached your apartment.On your way, you met your sweet neighbour an old lady in her mid 60s.

"Hello aunty. How are you? How is your health?" You said with a small smile."I am good darling. How are you doing? So, what's the plan for today? Are you going somewhere out?" She said while you gently shook your head. "I am okay but just tired considering I have to complete my project all alone and I don't have any plans."

"Why don't you have one? Its your special day today isn't it" She furrowed her eyebrows. "No, aunty I think you got confused but my birthday isn't today but tomorrow. Anyways, I will take your leave" with that you went towards your home.

While you were unlocking the door, your phone was vibrating. You took it out only to see the number of notifications coming up of 'updating the settings of phone'."You are troubling me alot for the past two days. Mino was right, I should have bought the new phone. Anyways let's get in".

As soon as you entered, the lights that were once off were switched on and song scream of 'Happy Birthday To You' was heard, giving you a good enough reason to have a cardiac arrest."OMG!!! WHAT IN THE WORLD J-"Happiest Birthday Dear!!" Your bestie Gia said with a smile and hugged you tightly followed by your family members. "I hope you loved your surprise!!!" Your parents said with huge smiles on their faces as your other friends and some office workers wished you. "So, that was why Gia you were giving me lame excuse and stuff but why my phone is show-

"We kinda might have done something in your phone though and especially it was already good as dead. It was perfect for us. We had to act crazy and inform almost all people as to not wish a birthday. Why did you think we came from the other route in morning?" Gia and your other friend Kiara said with mischievous smiles.

That's when it hit you as to why did your day seemed weird than before. You were all smiles but then you missed Mino, he wasn't here but at the same time he didn't even call you. Was he also part of the plan? Maybe so that your family can surprise you? You didn't know the answer.

"Thank you everyone! It means a lot. I s-"Nah dear! One major surprise is still left!!!" Your dad said with a small smile. "What is it dad?" You said with a confused look."

You remember how much you were crying and saying that we should shift near in your area or close by?" You had a big smile on your face, "OMG!!! Are you coming.. no, no wait ! Did you already shift in here?""Nah, baby. We still need a few months but we have this two surprises for you!!" Your dad said and shifted slightly enough to make some space for someone to fit in.

That's when he came with a gift in his hand. "Happy Birthday to you~ Happy Birthday to you~ Happy Birthday... Happy Birthday.. Happy Birthday to you~"Your boyfriend Mino came and you ran to him like a mad person. "Mino!!!!" You slightly started crying.

"Happy Birthday my love!!! I love you so much.. I am sorry that I didn't wish you. Me and your family had planned this small surprise but just like dad said that we have some surprises for you, do you wanna see them?"You excitedly nodded your head. "Okay, here we go!" He ruffled your hair. "Okay this is the present from mom and dad!! One of the surprises my bad" opening the top a cute little golden retriever was peaking its head out. "Oh, my god!! Thank you so much!!" You gently hugged the puppy and started kissing it and in return you earned alot of licks.

"Haha, you are do cute. Mino? Where is the other su-A gasp left from your mouth as now Mino was kneeling down with a beautiful diamond ring showcasing its glory was resting in the black box.

"Y/N Y/L/N!!! Its been almost 4 years since we have started dating. We went through all sorts of ups and downs, created alot of beautiful memories, had our own share of fair fights and arguments, have clicked a tons of terrible and embarrassing pictures and have stories. I don't wanna stop this here or maybe in future. I wanna continue this to till our last breath with our own little family. So, my small request is that accept me your beloved husband. Will you marry me?"Tears again started to threaten from your eyes while your parents and friends were hyping up you to say yes.

"Ofcourse, it's a yes Song Min Ho" you brokedown and he gently slipped the ring before kissing your crown. "Your happiness matters to me and I always wanted to be your happiness! You are my everything!!! You matter the most".

[imagines-hoarder]

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta​ for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 9 - FINALE)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: smut (oral f receiving), semi-public sex (in a parked car) angst, arguments, implied smut, sappiness, time skips, some alcohol consumption here and there, lots of talking about issues including bucky's ptsd, I really have no idea how to warn for this but IT’S THE END SO STRAP IN FOLKS

Since that night, it had been like a stand-off in a Western movie, none of you saying anything because you had no idea what to say. Whenever he tried to start the conversation, you brushed him off.

You took a cab home from the event. He slept in his own room for the first time in months.

Finally, suddenly, you were ready to talk about it nearly 30 hours later, knocking on the guest room door and entering to find Bucky on his bed, re-reading Flowers for Algernon. He sat up quickly and shut it, setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted softly, hesitant like you were a deer in a clearing and he was extending a handful of grain in his palm.

“Hey,” you returned, already fighting back your emotions. “I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready to listen.”

“I just… I want to make sure that you understand this is a really big deal.”

He nodded again.

“I had to do a lot of damage control to prevent being banned from all HFPA events— that includes the Golden Globes, you know, I can’t exactly skip those just because my boyfriend went fucking nuts at a party.” And there was the anger again— you had tried to wait until you could be neutral about this but it barely lasted, mainly because you were still embarrassed about the way you’d handled yourself that night. “You’re lucky not many people saw; you’re lucky no reporters were there! Can you imagine if someone had a fucking picture of this? There were cameras everywhere, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking!” he defended. “I saw you with him and he was touching you and I just… I saw red.”

You sighed slowly. “That’s not a good thing. That’s really, really concerning.”

“I know, I agree— you’re right. I need…” he trailed off, taking a breath before starting over. “I need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I just… I can’t really be a part of that. You need to work on that on your own.”

He stood up instantly, almost looking… afraid? Terrified, really, and heartbroken. “On my own, like what? What does that mean?”

“It means that I think maybe you should go back to your own apartment for a while. I just… need to be alone for a bit.”

“You need to be alone?” he repeated. “Or you need to be away from me?’

“Both.”

His head fell into his hands instantly. "Please don't tell me I fucked this up," he whimpered. "Please don't tell me I ruined this."

"I— I don't know."

"Please, please, please," he sighed, just louder than a whisper, suddenly stepping forward, grabbing your hand and clutching it to his chest. "Look at me," he begged.

You did, hesitantly, fighting everything in you that wanted to cry (and not doing so good of a job at it).

"Please, I lo—"

"Don't," you grimaced. "Don't say that."

"But it's true."

"It doesn't matter!" you yelped, surprising both of you with your volume.

“Are we going to have a chance to talk about this again? Am I going to get a chance to make it up to you?”

“You don’t make it up to me, you fix it. And that takes time.”

He shook his head, looking shocked and confused and completely blindsided which made you feel sick to your stomach. “How long?”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled.

“Am I not going to see you at all, for however long it takes?” he pressed.

“I… that’s sort of the idea.”

He shivered and pulled you into a hug. “Please don’t hate me forever,” he whispered against the top of your head.

“I don’t hate you,” you promised, doing your best not to hug him back even though all you wanted was to wrap yourself around him and feel safe in his arms again.

“Then don’t make me go,” he pleaded as he pulled back, clutching your face. “Let me stay and we can work through this together.”

“That’s not how this works,” you reminded him

“But I don’t know how to be without you,” he explained shakily.

“That’s not really my problem!” you yelped, and he turned away like he’d been slapped, dropping his hands from your face. A long, heavy silence fell between you as you watched him stand there, contemplating.

“If this is my last chance,” he finally spoke softly, barely breaking the silence, “to say everything I want to say…”

“It’s not,” you assured. “We’re going to talk about this again, but you need to go now.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow of nothing. When he looked at you again, you hated how much bluer his eyes looked when they were bloodshot and filled with tears. “Can I kiss you?”

You shook your head. He bit his lip and turned to walk away; you stared at your feet because you couldn’t watch him go.

You heard him grab his backpack, shoving a few things from the drawers into it; he set his key on the table, walked into the open hall, and as soon as you heard the front door open and shut you were plunged into solitude and silence. With a whimper, you crumpled to the floor and cried, the look of betrayal on his face burned into your mind.

It was obvious, to your horror, that he really hadn’t seen it coming; he hadn’t packed his things, or prepared in any way for the conversation going like that. He had been waiting for an olive branch and got a switch to the face instead. You didn’t know anything about working on relationships, repairing broken things… when something went wrong, all you knew how to do was bail.

You knew how to do a new take and say the line right this time. You knew how to take off your eyeliner and start over. You knew how to kick unsuspecting C-listers out of cars because you already got yours. But you didn’t know how to stay, and work, and frankly you were just too scared to try. Last time you tried to make it work, you got burned. And as much as a logical part of you knew that wasn’t Bucky’s fault or responsibility, your heart just couldn’t survive another relationship where you put everything into putting the pieces back together while the other person stood there and watched you just to pull them apart again.

It had to end at some point, right? It was you, it was him… and that’s just how these things go.

//

He knew it was too good to be true. He knew you were too good for him. Anybody with at least one eyeball and half a brain could see that. But still, he hadn’t been ready to let you go.

Being in his apartment felt like stopping in a ghost town; there might as well have been a tumbleweed rolling through the living room. It was beyond a bachelor pad: it was more like an unfinished work site, considering his ‘couch’ was cinderblocks and a few two-by-fours, and his bed was a mattress on the floor.

One toothbrush. No books. A half-empty shampoo bottle in the shower and some hard water stains he needed to scrub away at some point.

This place didn’t feel like a home, it barely felt like a livable space. It was a three-dimensional homage to how empty his life had been before you, and he realized that was only his own fault.

Then again, this was all his fault.

But still, he had let himself obsess over you, turn you into his whole world and it made him into somebody he didn’t want to be. He had been working so hard to keep you happy, inspired more than anything by his fear to lose you, that he’d forgotten to give you space and now here he was… giving you so much more space than he ever wanted to, or knew how to deal with.

But he wanted to use this, if he could. As much as it was tempting to binge on junk food, drink too much and watch porn for an hour, as much as he wanted to run away from everything he was feeling, he owed it to you and to himself to face it all and learn from it. He wanted to be the man you deserved, if that was even humanly possible; he wanted to be who you used to think he was.

//

The next week went by in a blur: a blur filled with shitty romcoms, Ben & Jerry’s straight from the carton, and phone calls ignored.

It would all be fine with time, you knew that, but god, it fucking hurt now. It made you want to call him and at least apologize for having sex with him when you knew he wouldn’t have wanted to if he knew you were upset. More time and distance from the situation made you appreciate that it was manipulative, even if it by no means justified the way he grabbed you, or shoving anybody in the first place.

Truth was, you were scared of Bucky long before that happened. You were scared of how strong your feelings were for him; and, in turn, you were scared of how strong his feelings were for you. You felt loved by him, and you didn’t know what to do with that. So you self-destructed.

Just in time to tear you out of your spiralling thoughts, the intercom buzzed from the front gate. You furrowed your brow, wondering who it could be, and got up to check the camera feed.

You couldn’t see the face of the driver, just his arm, but you’d recognize that Rolex on his wrist anywhere.

“What do you want?” you asked coldly, holding down the intercom talk button.

"Let me in," Sam instructed.

"And why should I?"

"Cause if you don't, I'll press charges against your boyfriend."

BEEP BEEP BEEP! the gate announced its opening.

You took the time while he parked his car and walked to the door to throw out the wrappers from all your questionable “meals” (i.e., candy and ramen), change into slightly nicer sweats and splash your face so you looked slightly less dead. Just as you came downstairs from your rushed primping, Sam knocked on the door and you turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. “It’s open!” you called out.

He turned the knob and stepped in with just one foot, peering around.

“Is the Terminator home?” he asked coyly. “Cause I actually think I’ve been assaulted enough for one week.”

“No, he’s gone. And don’t call him that.”

“What?” he shrugged, finally coming all the way in and letting the door swing shut on its own, taking his shades off and sliding them into the collar of his v-neck shirt. “It’s a compliment, and you really invite the killer robot comparisons when you’re part robot, look like a killer, and act like a thug.”

“He’s sensitive about the arm, okay? It’s one of the reasons he… it’s part of why we waited so long to go public.”

Sam glanced down to beside the door, where three pairs of your shoes were haphazardly lined up while his boots were noticeably absent. “And the fact that he’s moved out? When’s that gonna go public?” He always had an eye for these things, the bastard.

“I… I don’t know,” you sighed. “What do you want, exactly? Because honestly, I really can’t handle you right now.”

“I’m just trying to be a friend,” he explained, stepping closer again as you leaned against the breakfast bar.

“You seemed a lot more than friendly on Saturday,” you reminded him. “God, Sam, why did you have to do that?”

“So it’s my fault, then?” he rolled his eyes.

“No, of course not,” you assured, “but you knew I wasn’t single. I was actually happy… did you even want me back? Or did you just want to fuck with my life?”

“I did want you back, really.” He paused for a moment, more serious than he almost ever got. “I still do.”

You scoffed, looking away. “What happened to just being a friend?”

“That’s not why I’m here, this time. I’m just here to tell you that I’m worried about you.”

You took your weight off the bar and circled it into the kitchen, Sam mirroring you by following around the other side. “Do you want something to drink?” you asked, opening the fridge. He opened his mouth to answer but then leaned in as he stared at your hand where it was right in front of his face gripping the refrigerator’s door handle.

"He did that to you?" Sam pointed to the bruise on your wrist. You let go of the fridge and pulled your sleeve down to cover it again but that was answer enough. "Jesus, babe, this guy's fucking crazy."

"He's not crazy, and don't call me that," you frowned. "I don't think he meant to, really— his prosthetic is powerful and it was in need of a recalibration. He shouldn’t have grabbed me, but, he probably didn’t mean to do it so hard.”

Sam didn’t seem too convinced by that explanation, but didn’t say anything.

“Believe it or don’t, Sam, but either way it’s none of your business,” you frowned.

“Right, I know,” he nodded. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s you?” you pressed with an incredulous raised brow, opening the fridge again to grab yourself a green juice (because you were, again, trying to look like you had your shit together) and starting to walk away.

“I’ve changed, believe it or not,” he explained as he followed you out of the kitchen again. “Occasionally, people are capable of that.”

“If that’s true, then I owe it to Bucky to wait for him like I said I would,” you shot back. “I told him to leave so we could work on things separately. Not so I could entertain your come-to-Jesus moment.”

“It’s not a ‘come-to-Jesus’ moment, it’s just a ‘give me another chance’ moment,” he corrected as you took a long sip of the juice, “it’s a ‘maybe we ended things too soon’ moment.”

You looked at him in silent judgment as you kept drinking, and the way he was looking at you made you glad the glass bottle was keeping your lips occupied.

“It’s an ‘I’m still in love with you’ moment.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spit the juice right onto him, covering your mouth in shock just a moment too late.

For one of those indefinite moments, you were just staring at each other while you both contemplated that you had said he loved you and you had spat juice onto him.

“Okay, I was prepared to get shot down,” he admitted. “This is… worse.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, trying not to laugh, “I… I’ll get some paper towels, I can get you a new shirt, but it’ll have to be one of the ones Bucky left behind…”

“Oh god, it’s sticky,” he grimaced, as he tried to peel his shirt from his skin, “can I just use your shower maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you nodded, “upstairs and down—”

“I remember where it is,” he reminded you as he stepped past you to make his way to the bathroom. “I knew I should’ve waited to say it until she was done drinking…” you heard him mumble to himself before he disappeared and you heard the bathroom door shut.

But truthfully, it wasn’t really the fact that he said it, or the concept of Sam loving you at all that made you spit out your drink. It was that when he said it, you realized you were in love with Bucky. Which, yes, would’ve been obvious to anyone else but it came as quite a shock to you.

It made you realize that you wanted to make this work. You wanted to be vulnerable, you wanted to try, even if it ended just as badly as it nearly had last week; even if it meant dealing with all the shit that you’d pushed down for so long.

You wanted to have another chance, this time knowing how hard it would be to be without him.

Just as you pondered what to do with that realization, a knock at the door startled you. Who could have made it to the door without buzzing the intercom?

Somebody who has the gate code already, you realized, and your heart sank. You weren’t ready to see him again— specifically, you weren’t ready to be seen by him again. Sure, cleaning up the trash and splashing your face was enough for a guest like Sam, but you had been imagining that when you saw Bucky again you’d be all dolled up looking like you were doing better than ever, like you were thriving without him just to rub it in that you were the best he ever had.

Couldn’t he have just waited a few hours after your realization so you could go to him on your own terms, with your whole speech prepared and everything? As an actress, you were much more comfortable reading lines than improvising.

Another knock made you sigh and set down the half-empty bottle of green juice, running up to the door to answer it.

“Hi,” he greeted soberly when you opened the door.

“Hey,” you nodded back, “listen, now’s not a great time…”

“Listen, I’m not here to cause any problems, or ask you for anything, I just need some of my stuff back,” he explained.

“Okay, it would’ve been better if you had come at another time—”

“I know, I’m not trying to invade your space,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have used the gate code, I didn’t mean to surprise you, honestly it was just second nature but I realize now I should’ve called first— well, I don’t think you’re taking my calls right now—”

“Bucky, please, we can talk later,” you assured, trying to shut the door.

“Can we?” he sighed. “I mean, will we?”

“Yes, but I’m busy right now,” you explained.

“When?” he asked, voice full of hope. “Soon?”

“I— I don’t know, sure,” you shrugged.

“You’re just saying that to get me to leave,” he realized flatly. “I understand, I don’t blame you— god, I just hate how scared you are of me. I’m everything I never wanted to be. I just wanted to keep you safe and now I can’t even do that, now you think of me as a threat. You should have the gate code changed, if it’ll make you sleep better—”

“I sleep fine, just go and we’ll deal with all of this soon— really, I promise!”

“You promised before and this week without you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!” he returned, getting more emotional as he gestured with his hands. “I’m not saying this should all go away in a week, there’s so much more I have to do, but… but not being able to see you at all is killing me. And it’s not like I don’t see you, your movies are on every fucking channel, but you know, I don’t get to really see you, talk to you— that’s what I miss, I miss when we would talk for hours.”

“I miss that too,” you agreed, “it’s all going to happen, it’s just that I need you to go right now—”

And of course, Sam picked just the right time to come running down your staircase with only a towel around his waist.

Bucky tensed up as he saw Sam, jaw tightening. "Oh."

You had no idea what would happen. Was Bucky going to attack him again? Would Sam try to hit Bucky? Were you going to drop dead from sheer embarrassment?

Instead, Bucky just sighed a little and looked to the ground, almost laughing though he seemed anything but amused. “You’ve got a funny idea of what ‘being alone’ means,” he sneered.

“Sam was just—” you began to defend.

"No, it’s okay, I see how it is," Bucky informed you quietly, coldly. He didn’t even seem angry anymore, just defeated. "I'll leave. I'm sorry that I… I'm sorry."

And he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait, it's not—"

He shrugged your hand away as he kept walking, forcing you to chase him.

"Don't leave, please— Bucky, I love you too."

He stopped, but didn't turn around yet; you just stood behind him, staring at his back as it rose and fell with a slow breath. When he looked back at you, his eyes were red, brimming with tears and heartbreak. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you promised.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted.

“I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. As much as I miss living with you— and as much as my apartment is so gross—”

You giggled a little, glad you could laugh with him again even if just for a second.

“I need more time. I’m not going to subject you to me until I know I can be… stable, again.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “Whatever you need.”

“But maybe we could… go out sometime? Somewhere where there aren’t paparazzi, ideally?”

“Uh, Vermont?” you offered jokingly. “I’ll find somewhere, though. We’ll talk this all out.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing a little. “Okay.”

With obvious hesitance, he leaned in slightly and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You wanted more than anything to get up on your tiptoes and kiss his lips, but it was probably too soon. He smiled down at you slightly before he turned to walk away, and you did the same as you made it back into the house.

“Hey, listen,” you began as you found Sam still waiting in a towel looking completely lost.

“That doesn’t sound like the beginning of good news,” he sighed.

“I’m so glad you were honest with me and I’m still really sorry for spitting on you, and for Bucky shoving you, and for everything awful that went down between us. And some part of me is always gonna love you, but—”

“I know,” he nodded, clearly disappointed but resigned in a peaceful way. “It’s okay. I had my chance, I blew it, and if this Bucky guy has his then I just hope he isn’t taking it for granted.”

You smiled a little. “He’s not.”

“Then I’ll get dressed and go. Please direct me to his favorite shirt, so that I may steal it,” he requested formally, making you laugh, but you weren’t ready to let it go just yet; instead, you stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

“You’re a good friend, Sam,” you mumbled against his bare chest.

“Yeah, kinda wish I wasn’t though,” he sighed as he hugged you back.

“Kinda wish I’d made you get dressed before hugging you,” you admitted, the awkwardness of his nudity finally catching up with you.

“Yeah…” he agreed in a whispered sigh.

//

His palms were actually sweaty; well, at least one of them was. He hadn’t been this worked up about a date since high school.

But there was so much more riding on that now than there was then. If he blew this, you probably would dump him for good, and he’d become ‘that guy Y/N Y/L/N dated for a minute’ to the rest of the world.

And there was so much more to him than that— he was learning to really let that shine after three weeks of therapy on Mondays and Thursdays— and so much more to his relationship with you, but it would still be pretty humiliating. More importantly, he would be heartbroken if he never got a chance to hold you again, kiss you again, tell you he loved you not during a fight…

His eyes glanced to the door instinctively when someone stepped in, but it still wasn’t you. He checked his watch and closed his eyes: it was still a few minutes early, you probably wouldn’t be here until 6:30, since that was when you’d agreed to meet when you discussed all this over text. But the length of time between 6:27 and 6:30 just seemed to keep getting longer and longer.

When you finally walked in, it was like one of those movie moments where everything slowed down, the ambient noise and background music faded away, and all he could see was you. If this was it, at least he got to see you like this one last time.

He waved you over, watching you walk closer and feeling his heart race as you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you,” he blurted out right away.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled back, pulling from the embrace as he moved to pull out your chair for you.

“So,” he began as he sat down, “do you… want me to go first? Or do you want to go first?”

“I love you,” you said instantly, and he couldn’t fight a wide smile.

“I love you too,” he whispered back.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” you grinned, “I think you should go first.”

“Well, now that you say that suddenly I forget everything I’ve been practicing in the mirror all day,” he chuckled. “I already told you I’ve been in therapy, and they finally got me on stuff for my PTSD… it feels weird to say it, to talk about it like I really have it… but I do, and I’m working on not being ashamed of that. What I am ashamed of is the way I treated you that day, how I let my anger get the best of me and how I hurt you when you’re the most important person in my life. You didn’t deserve that. And if I haven’t said it enough, I’m truly sorry.”

“I know,” you nodded, “thank you. I’m glad you’re getting help… I don’t want to see you like that for your own sake, too.”

“Just because you don’t hate me doesn’t mean you have to forgive me. And just because you forgive me doesn’t mean you have to take me back,” he reminded you softly.

“But I do forgive you, and I do want you back,” you promised. “And I want to apologize, too, for the things I did wrong… obviously it’s basically impossible for me to hurt you physically, you’re so much stronger than I am, but I hurt you with how I handled some things and I regret that.”

“It did hurt, but I still reacted poorly at basically every turn. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous of Sam in the first place, if you and him have something going on then that’s none of my business—”

“Of course it’s your business, Bucky, you’re my boyfriend!” you laughed. “You don’t need to be jumping for joy when I talk to my ex, you just need to not be that aggressive about it.”

“Am I your boyfriend?” he asked sheepishly. “Is he your ex?”

"When you came over the other day, and he was there… nothing happened, really. He came over, I told him I didn't want to be anything more than friends, he asked to use my shower… I don't know how to prove it to you—"

"You don't have to," he shook his head. "If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened."

“I mean, we hugged,” you remembered. “And he took your Fleetwood Mac shirt.”

“He what?” Bucky yelped, but then calmed himself down immediately. “Whatever, it’s fine, the point is that I have a lot of shit I still need to work on. Because the truth is, you’re not mine—”

“No, I—”

“Really, you’re not. You’re your own person. That’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place, I love that you’re independent and strong and… maybe a little crazy, but you’re exactly who you need to be. You don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t mind belonging to you as long as it’s fair, Bucky; as long as we belong to each other.”

“Sweetheart, you always had me,” he laughed. “From day one.”

“Then let’s figure your shit out. Believe it or not, I’ve got shit too… commitment issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues—”

“Ooh, I have that one too!” he beamed, making you laugh. “You know, when I was talking to my therapist, she had me do this thing where I talked about my hopes and stuff and, I don’t know, maybe it’s dumb but I wanted us to do that. I want to know what you’re hoping for for this.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “well, I’m hoping that you’ll move back in soon but not right away, maybe in a few months? I want us to get better at being apart, it’ll come in handy when I have to go to far off places for filming and stuff.”

“Totally with you,” he agreed, “might have to start buying some real furniture for my place though.”

“What about you?” you prompted.

“I’m hoping that you still think I'm cute enough to put up with some of my crap," he smirked, "if not all of it."

"Definitely," you grinned.

“I’m hoping that in the future, if you’re upset, you’ll tell me and we can work it out, and then have make-up sex," he added.

“Deal,” you chuckled.

“And, if I’m being honest,” he continued, leaning in closer and lowering his voice, “I’m hoping that I can take you home tonight.”

It was so simple, but it made a shiver run down your spine. This distance had caused more than just your heart to grow fonder, and you were craving his touch more than ever. “Where’s home?” you asked coyly.

“It’s wherever you wanna go,” he purred. “Your place, my place, the back of your car—”

“That one,” you nodded eagerly, “definitely that one.”

//

You wanted to go right then and there but he made you sit through the whole dinner, with all the trappings of wining and dining, though for you it sometimes felt more like whining and dying because you needed him so bad you couldn't think. But he stayed patient, keeping up the conversation, asking more about a new project you were tentatively linked with, telling you more about the newest improvements to his prosthetic.

He picked up the check, which was absurd to you but he insisted, and escorted you to your car as if his intentions were just gentlemanliness even though you knew it was far worse than that.

He (gently) pinned you up against the side of the car, kissing you slowly, making you melt like it was no effort for him at all. As his lips made their way to your ear, he whispered to you darkly, "get in the back and spread your legs for me."

You were sure you'd never obeyed an instruction so fast, hopping in and happily watching him climb in behind you. He instantly knelt down between your spread legs, holding you by your thighs as he pushed your dress up, and you were already lifting your hips up to let him pull your panties down to your ankles.

"So eager," he whispered happily, kissing his way up one of your legs and never breaking his gaze away from yours. Your mouth fell slack as you watched him get higher and higher, closer to where you were already dripping with need. "Been wanting to do this since that night, however many months ago, where I had to watch somebody else do this to you," he admitted with a grin that nipped at your inner thighs. "I know I've tasted you a thousand times since then, but I wanted to do it here."

There was a lot you could say to that, but it was all lost to a gasp as he licked one long, thin stripe right across your entrance and over your clit. Already you were shaking and grabbing his hair— he'd grown it out just enough that you could really dig your fingers into it, but even so he kept his teasing pace.

He kept going, that slow and torturous cycle where just as your clit got some much-needed attention, he started back over at your leaking opening again.

"The fuck are you doing down there, trying to figure how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?" you finally groaned, making him chuckle at how demanding you'd become.

"I'm just making sure I do this right," he dismissed. "Want more, baby?"

"Please," you shuddered. "Need your tongue inside me."

He grinned and put you out of your misery, really latching his lips onto you now as he pushed his tongue inside and curled it against your g-spot. It was enough to make your back arch dramatically and your fingers clench on his hair, a little growl echoing out of his mouth and into your body in response.

Your legs were accidentally clamping down on his head each time he sucked on your clit, but he didn't seem to mind, if anything it egged him on.

"C-close, so close," you chanted our warning as his hands tightened on your thighs he gave wide laps to your throbbing button.

"Say you love me baby," he mumbled his demand against your skin.

"Bucky, yes, I love you," you whimpered. "Love you so much, fuck, I'm gonna come…"

He nodded as he wrapped his lips around your clit and kept sucking, harder than ever, until your whole body was literally quaking and you weren't sure if you had closed your eyes or if your vision just went black for a second. As if that weren't enough, he kept going until you had to push him off of you by his forehead, shivering and catching your breath as aftershocks rocked your body.

"You're so amazing," he groaned huskily as he sat up and pulled you into a rough kiss, the taste of your pleasure coating your tongue as it tangled with his. Just as you were about to reach down and attempt to operate his belt buckle with your tingling fingers, he pulled back from the kiss a moment too soon. "And now you get to drive yourself home," he grinned, patting you on the cheek reassuringly.

"What? That's it?!" you squawked.

"You just came so hard you nearly blacked out and you're asking me if that's it?" he smirked incredulously.

"I just thought you would want to, you know… go all the way," you explained, cringing at the immature phrase.

"Hey, I'm a gentleman, and this is still our first date," he reminded you.

"But aren't you, you know…?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded quickly, leaning in to bite at your neck. "Don't worry about me, princess, I can take care of myself." He chuckled at your whimper and pulled back to look right into your eyes. "But it's not about me, is it? You want my cock all for yourself, don't you?"

You nodded, making him giggle sweetly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait," he cooed, poking the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing harder at your needy whine. "We'll go out again next weekend and maybe if it goes well, it'll lead to something more, alright?"

"Okay," you sighed, "I can wait a week. I think."

He smiled and kissed you again, helping you pull your panties back up and rubbing your thigh appreciatively. "Goodnight," he whispered against your lips, slipping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against the seat, watching out the window as he walked back to his bike. You hated to see him go, but you did love watching him walk away.

//

two years later…

“Will the Six Million Dollar Man be joining us?” Sam asked with a smirk as he glanced to the door of the bowling alley, checking to see if anyone had walked in.

“When he gets off of work,” you promised.

“Why do you call him that?” Natasha asked Sam innocently.

“You’ll see,” Sam promised, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek, but you figured there was a pretty good chance she wouldn't get the reference anyway.

Right on cue, Bucky appeared in the doorway and you and Sam waved him to the correct lane. “Hey guys,” he greeted, “hey babe,” he pulled you into a quick kiss. “And happy birthday, Sam.”

“Shh, keep it down, we don’t want any Hollywood people to find out that I’m aging,” Sam joked. “Are you gonna join the game or just observe?”

“I’ll join, if it’s not too late,” Bucky decided.

“Since when do you bowl?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Since I got the prosthetic recalibrated to throw the perfect strike every time,” he winked.

Beers and turns went pretty quickly after that, light conversation interspersed in between, until the more raucous parts of the evening died down and you left Bucky for a moment to join Sam at the bar.

Sam nodded to acknowledge you as you leaned beside him, and you ordered yourself one more drink before you called it a night.

“So, Natasha,” you started the conversation, watching the way Sam couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s great.”

“Yeah, she’s really something,” he agreed. “I wanted you guys to meet her sooner, but you were gone filming for so long and all.”

“Don’t fuck this one up, Sam,” you threatened.

“I’m trying not to!” he defended, before looking around like he was trying to make sure no one was looking. As you furrowed your brow and wondered what he was up to, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket and showed you a picture: a ring, with a massive diamond and accents of citrine.

“Holy shit…” you sighed, pulling the phone closer to get a better look.

“Had it custom made, I’m gonna pick it up tomorrow,” he explained, putting the phone away. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna ask her yet… I just know I need to snag this one before she slips through my fingers.”

“You’re really like a whole new man,” you realized aloud.

“I’m telling you, this girl… she really changed everything for me,” he sighed wistfully, and you nodded because you knew what that was like.

“I knew you just needed a good woman to straighten you out, Wilson,” you joked, patting him on the shoulder, “my only mistake was ever thinking it was me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I thought it was you, too,” he smiled softly. “I really loved you, even when I was stepping out on you… and I think I needed to love you, and to lose you, to be here now.   So, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, I guess,” you laughed a little, taking a slow sip of your drink.

“And if she says yes, I’m gonna need all the marriage advice you have to offer,” he bargained.

“I mean, we’ve only been married for a month,” you chuckled, “I don’t think we’re far enough into it to really provide significant guidance.”

“And you’ve already gone through so much together.  Is he doing alright?  You know, his nightmares and stuff…”

You glanced over and where Bucky and Natasha were chatting, admiring how at ease he looked; he usually had a harder time with new people.  “Yeah, it’s been a lot better, he’s on new meds… how did you know about that?”

“He talks to me sometimes,” Sam admitted.  “And as someone who has played a PTSD-striken veteran in not one, but two major motion pictures, I’m sort of an expert,” he winked, but then got serious again.  “I would’ve asked him how he was doing myself but he wouldn’t let me ask him personal stuff on my birthday.”

“I bet he’d let you ask him for his opinion on the ring you just showed me.”

“Um, why would I want his opinion when he bought you that?” he grimaced, pointing at the ring on your finger.  “I mean, sapphires?  Really?”

“Cut it out,” you laughed, shoving him on the shoulder.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. 

“Are you coming to my premiere tomorrow, by the way?” you asked.  “I have it on good authority you were invited, since I demanded it.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he nodded, “Nat really wants to go, too.  She’s a big fan of your work.”

“Well, tell her she was great in that one about the missing girl,” you replied.  

“I’ll be sure to tell her exactly that.”

“We should head home, you know how early premiere prep starts,” you sighed with an exhausted roll of your eyes, finishing the last of your drink before grabbing Sam on the shoulder.  “Good luck with however you decide to pop the question with Nat.  Let me know if you need anything.”

He nodded and let you go, and once you got Bucky’s attention and said goodbye to Nat, the two of you made your way out back to the car.

“I’m glad you and Sam get along,” you reminded him as you squeezed his hand.

“What gives you that impression?” he scoffed.

You shook your head and smiled, letting him walk you to the car in silence.

Less than 24 hours later, you held his hand in just the same way as you sat beside each other in the screening auditorium, watching your latest film fade to black and hearing the crowd at the premiere— mostly cast, crew, and critics— erupt into applause.

"I have a little surprise for you," you whispered in his ear as the credits began to flash.

"I am not gonna let you blow me in this crowded theater," he instantly scolded.

"No, not that," you giggled, although you secretly wondered how much less crowded the theater would have to be for him to let you try it.  "Just wait until my name comes up."

Written and Directed by Hope Van Dyne

A Paramount Pictures Film

In Association with Europa

And then there it was, in big white letters, just as much of a trip to see as the first time you saw your name on the big screen.  But something very important had changed.

Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes

Everyone at the screening was clapping and cheering, but you were so focused on him that his whisper was the only thing you heard.  "Sweetheart," he gasped, and you smiled wide.  "You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to."

"It's just a stage name, if you want to keep it the same—"

"Buck, really.  I want your name there with mine."

"But your credits…" he protested, though the break in his voice made it clear he was tearing up.  "You're an actress and you've established your career already and it's so important to you—"

"Hey," you soothed, reaching up to brush your hand over his cheek, forcing him to look at you.  "Your wife is the most important thing I've ever been."

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

How about a coffee shop au where the reader gets Cal's order wrong and gives him a matcha latte when he ordered a regular hot coffee with his breakfast sandwich and you can go off form that :)

Taking limited requests. 3 slots left.

Gender Neutral Reader.

___________________

The morning shift--Calum had been told about how chaotic this shift could be. During his closing shift training, it was all they really talked about. How glad they were that they didn't have the opening shift. And of course, closing shift took a lot of heat because maybe not everything got done like it was supposed to. And sometimes even if they did do everything right, one particular manager was a known hard ass and nothing really seemed to appeased them.

And though Calum woke up at the ass crack of dawn, not even the sun hitting the horizons just yet, the start didn't seem so bad. But the second the clock hit six it was as if the dam broke. Being two weeks into the job, he felt like he had a pretty good handle on everything. Though the thing that still made his hands shake was fucking up someone's order.

"Matcha latte with a toasted egg and cheese bagel," he calls out, setting the two out together. Another drink is done and he caps it. "And a regular black coffee."

He doesn't even pay attention to who comes up--vaguely responds to the thanks with a quick 'you're welcome' and goes back to the blender for the next drink on the line.

The frother is a distinct buzz in his ears as Sydney, one of his trainers and now slowly becoming a work best friend, works next to him. But even with that noise, the soft "Excuse me" catches his ear. Calum glances up, grabbing the towel from his apron to clean his hands.

"What can I help you with?"

The smile is still bright in front of him. "I think my drink order got mixed up. I ordered a regular coffee with vanilla syrup. But this is a, uh, green," you laugh.

His heart thunders in his chest. Fuck, he knew he should've double checked that ticket like he was taught. He just assumed. "Oh I'm so sorry about that! Let me fix it. You said regular coffee with vanilla syrup right?"

You nod at the man, his brown eyes blown wide. He apologizes again and before you can tell him not to worry about it--that it happens sometimes, he's spinning on his heels. You watch him, towering over most of the other people behind the counter. His hair tucked up underneath the black dad hat and the gray t-shirt he's wearing hanging loose around his torso but tight over his shoulders.

You've never seen him before--not in the mornings at least. Not that you're a regular, but you do come in consistently. "Hey," Sydney smiles at you, shouting out another order for the customers waiting. "Everything alright?" And maybe you were a regular.

You nod. "Yeah, just a small mix up."

"Shucks, sorry about that. Is someone on it?"

"Yeah, um," you look behind her to the man with a cup of coffee that looks more like your usual. "He's on it," you say, looking back to Sydney."

"Calum--he's new," she says, leaning against the counter for a moment and just in that moment, Calum returns with your correct drink, setting it onto the counter for you.

"Sorry about that again!" he states again.

You shake your head at him. "It's really not a problem. Things happen. We're human and all."

"Oh, ain't you just the sweetest," Sydney teases before walking around Calum to go back to the machines. "Just don't be too sweet on him."

You laugh at her comment, taking hold of the cup in front of you. Something brushes along your fingers and when you look, Calum's holding out a straw for you too. "Thanks. Don't let Sydney be too hard on you."

"Oh--I can handle her," Calum laughs, knowing the glare that's landing him right now from Sydney. "But really, I am sorry about getting that drink mixed up."

You look up to him, noticing the bags that have just started to form and can see he means it. "Calum, it's not the end of the world. And even if it was, at least you were nice."

"God, I really hope it wasn't the end of the world." He's not phased at the sound of his name from your lips. He knows the name tag is pinned to the outside of his apron. But he likes the way it sounds when you curl your tongue around the 'L' in his name.

And the two of you linger in a deep gaze, only for a moment before he hears down the line the shout of needing more clean blenders. "I," he starts, throwing his thumb over his shoulders, "I should probably get back to work."

You nod, "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around, Calum?"

You say it like it's a question, like you're hoping he says yes. "I'll be here for the foreseeable future," and he pauses, not having caught your name.

You give your name and he tries it over his own lips, then grins when you grin. "Well, good luck with the rest of today," you offer and then take a half step from the counter. Calum does the same, but retreating further into the eye of the storm.

He watches you though, pushing on the side door and then out into the finally morning sunrise. He's grateful for a moment that he works mornings this week straight, clinging to the smallest hope that you step back through the doors again.

Tuesday you don't show, having to leave Monday in the day to out a few towns for a conferences. When Wednesday comes around and the morning's pushing afternoon, Calum's hope wanes, but doesn't completely fade. People live busy lives. He can't fault that. But he just hopes he's not being a fool to watch every person that comes through the door, or even passes by the windows.

And just an hour before shift change, as the day's quieted, Calum's mind fills with the rest of things he needs to do. He has to go to the pharmacy to pick up some toiletries and then try to get home to get a couple readings done before his evening classes.

"Hi, Calum."

He pauses his work on the table he's wiping down to spin around. And there you are, a backpack slug over one shoulder and giving him a small wave. "Hi," he returns, feeling a small flutter in his gut. "Whata-what's on the menu today?" he asks, moving to go back behind the register.

You try to stop him, noticing only a few people in the place sitting with their laptops or books around them. "Oh, no, I-I'm not here to get anything really."

His brows furrow as he spins back around, leaning now up against the part of the counter that finished drinks are served. "Not here to get anything?"

You shake your head. "Well, not right now. I'm on my lunch and came by hoping to catch you, really?"

"Me?" he questions, trying to keep the silly grinning to a minimum.

"Yeah," you nod, and then drop your gaze to the floor. His black Nike's fill up your vision for a moment as you exhale and then look back up to his face.

His cheeks fuller than you remember them being, but maybe it's just because now you're really getting a good look at them. "Well, here I am," he teases with a tuft of laughter.

"So like, I really don't want to ask this while you're working because that just feels awkward. And you totally don't have to answer my next question either. I just wanted to let you know I get it, if you're comfortable with it." And he just watches you rambles, part of it because he likes the way you fiddle with your fingers and use your hands as you talk. Part of it because he's too frozen by fear to respond in any capacity.

So on you continue, "I wanted to know when you got off--so that I could ask you what I really wanted to ask you not when you're working. Because like, that just feels presumptuous and also you're doing service so I don't want to make you feel like you can't say no without it affecting your job. So like, would I be able to talk to you? Once your shift is done?"

"I'm off in about an hour. But if you're on your own lunch break I don't want to impede your work either," he returns.

"I-I can work remotely. I was at our shared office space downtown. But like as long as I have WiFi and my computer I can do my work anywhere."

"As long as you're sure and don't mind having to wait? But also you should probably actually eat on your lunch break?"

You tap the side of your backpack and only now does he see a small lunch box attached. "I packed it assuming I'd eat at the office. But then I realized due to my travel this week, I hadn't been by and I definitely want to drop by."

And it's the way you say definitely, like you're dreaming while looking at him, or breathless. And maybe you are giving the whole spiel you've just given. The doors open again and Calum glances over, to greet the new person, but glances back down to you. And fuck, your eyes are just too pretty not to get lost in. "Well, enjoy your lunch and our free WiFi and when I'm done, we can talk, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you rush out, grinning and then watch him shuffle back to the registers. You turn, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth. And holy fuck, it feels like you're in middle school all over again dealing with your first crush. But there you didn't make any moves, especially not as outlandish as this one.

But you just need it to work out--that's all. Finding a table, you settle down, back facing the window, but able to see Calum at the register if you look up from your computer screen. He smiles whenever you catch his eye. The drink doesn't seem to take him long to make and before you know it, he's back out from the register, making rounds to wipe at tables and make sure no one else needs anything before heading back to you.

And he talks as he works, wiping more tables, putting chairs back where they belong. You find out he's in school, working as he takes night classes for his master's in Literature. He finds out you're working remotely for an agency, and though it's marketing, or that's what he gather he still doesn't quite understand it. But it makes you happy and he loves it when you laugh about your coworkers.

And the hour's flown by when the shift switches, Calum disappears to the back for a few minutes and you start the process of shutting down your laptop. But he's back before you get everything tucked away and he slides into the seat across from you with ease and a bit of a sigh of relief.

"You don't have to pack up unless you want too," he says.

And you pause, your laptop in its sleeve. "You really want to hang around your job after hours."

"It's not so bad. It's just the standing that's killer." You nod, understanding the struggle. "So," he starts. "What was this thing that-that you wanted to ask?"

And you can tell he's nervous, his gaze on the table and not on you. And it shouldn't be so goddamn endearing but it is. "I-I wanted to see if you wanted to go out sometime. With me?"

His head shoots up, his infectious grin lighting up his own face, even causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. "I'd love too. I'm off next Thursday--if that works."

Thursday is nothing special, well you have your monthly town hall meeting that's just about the growth of the company, but you could take a half day and then make up the hours next week. "Thursday is good. Should we do lunch since you have classes?"

"Yeah, if you're okay with that. I heard about this new place, it's mostly breakfast but they stay open for lunch."

"Anya's?" you question and Calum nods. "Some coworkers say it's good. But I-I haven't gone yet."

"So there then?" he asks.

"Yeah--is it okay if we do it a little early. 11:30?"

His heart is a thunderous roar in his chest and he's really glad today he work a darker colored t-shirt because his pits are dripping right now. "Yeah, that's fine with me," Calum answers.

The two of you exchange numbers and he helps you carry your bag to the car. You insist he doesn't have too, but he does it anyway and up against the side of your car, you're kind of glad you took the leap of faith. The hat comes off and you can see fully now the mass curls on his head.

"Thanks," Calum starts. "For waiting to ask. I would've said yes, like literally either way. But I appreciate it."

"Yeah, no. I worked retail before this. It's hell with people hitting on you while you're on the clock. Don't even worry about it."

The sun is higher now, getting into your eyes just a little until Calum shifts and blocks most of it. "So I'll see you Thursday, for sure, at 11:30. Anya's."

"11:30 next Thursday at Anya's for sure. But I may also need a matcha latte before then," you tease.

"Oh, c'mon," he laughs. "It's barely been three weeks. And I apologized."

"I'm only teasing, Calum," you giggle.

He takes a small step backwards--he parked in the second row as to give customers the spots up front. "I'll have that matcha waiting on you next time then."

"I'd expect nothing less." And the two of you give one last wave before he spins completely around his apron thrown across his shoulder and he pauses for cars before crossing the parking lot. And you know you shouldn't thank the heavens you asked for a lunch date at the sight of his ass in jeans, but you do.

Inside your car, you laugh at your own giddiness. It's only one date. And who the hell knows how it's going to end--but for fuck sake, you did it. The phone rings through the bluetooth of your car as you dial your best friend to tell them the good news.

And unbeknownst to you, Calum sits in his car too, smiling to himself as he texts his housemates about scoring a date with you. And the entire thread rattles his phone from the coffee holder.

[golden-pickaxe]

Hi, you could do: Fem! Reader x Eric (or neutral gender) where the reader is temperamentally similar to Eric and is not afraid to challenge him, this intigrates him, and leads him to flirt with the reader (possible smut);

Closer

Reader Gender: Female

Fandom: Divergent

Pairing: Eric x Reader

Warnings: Violence, (slightly rough) smut

Word Count: ~5.000

A/N: I should actually study for my master’s exam, but well… here I am. I rewrote a draft I had on my computer for 6 years, and I hope this is kind of what you wanted!  It is also past 1 am now, so.. yea.

Also thanks for my first request :D Also, pro-tip: don’t write smut while continuing to listen to your classical music study playlist, that really does not convey the mood! (even though Johann Strauss slaps!)

   “Alright, listen up!” Eric’s loud voice echoed through the training halls, strong and confident as usually, attracting the attention of the initiates around him. The teenagers stopped their various exercises, looking over to the leader, some curious, some with a worried expression on their faces. Eric was standing by the door, next to you and Four.

 You stepped forward slightly, as the initiates jogged over to the three of you, gathering around you. You raised your voice.

 “My name is Y/N! I’m head of the weapon development and weapon repair team here at Dauntless, and for the next few days I will be your instructor for correct weapon handling and weapon training. Of course, you already had some shooting lessons since your arrival, but frankly, they are not.. to my standards.” You crossed your arms behind your back, ignoring the low snort of Four behind you.

 “I’d suggest you lot pay close attention, because incorrect handling of some of the weapons we use will lead to injury, and in the worst-case death.”

 There was a murmur going through the initiates, but it stopped when you glared at the few who had dared to talk to each other. You knew how you appeared to them, what impression you made on them, and used it to your advantage.

 “Over the course of the next week I will show you how to use, dismantle, reload, clean and repair the different kind of guns and firearms we use here at Dauntless. Don’t underestimate the importance of these lessons, they will be crucial in your later life. If you have any problems or questions, never hesitate to ask.”

 You paused for a moment, mustering the faces of the initiates in front of you, most of them staring back with curious and interested expressions. You still remembered being one of them, although you had been a Dauntless born.

 “In the future, if you have any troubles with your rifles, our workshop is where you drop by to get it fixed. If you make it through initiation, that is.” Your eyes wandered over to the ranking board, and you noticed how the group in front of you visibly tensed up. You turned around to Eric and Four, nodding at them before facing the teenagers again. “We will soon all go up to the shooting range, to start your training. But first we will go over theory.”

 You walked towards the door, picking up two large cases standing next to it, returning to the initiates where you put them on a large Table the other instructors had carried into the training halls earlier.

 With trained fingers you opened the cases, revealing an array of different types of handguns.

“Today we will work with pistols. Good for close combat and handy in urban situations. Best choice if you find yourself in the ruins, dealing with factionless.” You started, taking one of the weapons out of the case.

 “Do we really need to know all that?” someone of the group suddenly asked after you had started to explain the mechanisms of the weapon, and you looked up, your eyes fixating him. He flinched, raising his shoulders a bit defensively.

 “Step forward.” You said, quickly loading two pistols with munition. The boy was pale as a corpse, when he slowly came forward, the rest of the group holding their breath.

 You took one of the pistols, you knew this model very well, purposely inserting the magazine in a way, you knew it always jammed. You pushed the weapon into the boy’s hand, taking the other pistol and aiming it directly at the initiate’s head.

 “You are out, patrolling. You get separated from your group, and are faced with a bunch of factionless who have nothing to lose. One point a gun at you, ready to fire, because believe it or not, they get their hands on firearms. You did not pay attention when you learned how to handle weapons properly, and your handgun jams. What do you do now?” you asked, tilting your head. The boy was shaking. “Ten..”

 Panic appeared in the initiate’s eyes, and he looked down, trying to un-jam it, trying anything. The magazine was not moving and he could not pull the trigger either.

 “Nine.”

 “I can’t, oh god, I’m sorry.” He looked as if he was about to cry.

 “Eight.”

 He continued to struggle and you continued to count down, taking a step forward, the cold metal of your gun now touching his forehead.

None of the other initiates was talking, although you saw pure panic in their eyes. One almost looked as if she was about to say something stupid, but a raised eyebrow from you and an intervening friend apparently stopped her from opening her mouth.

 “Three. Two. One.” You raised your gun at the ceiling, firing a shot. The boy in front of you flinched and fell to the floor, apparently half thinking you actually shot him.

 “See, without ‘all that’, you’d be dead. So pay attention.” You took the gun from his hand, showing everyone a quick trick to unjam it, before returning to the table. You noticed how the other instructors looked at you, Four with supressed shock, and Eric with not so supressed amusement. He seemed almost impressed.

 “Where were I..?” You asked rhetorically, before resuming your theoretical instruction.

 As you continued to explain the different models you had brought with you to the group in front of you, telling them how to load, unload and dismantle them, the other instructors were standing behind you in silence.

 “And always, always, at least five times, check if your gun is unloaded before you clean it!” you said, glaring at a brown haired boy, called Peter if you remembered correctly, who snorted at your remark.  

 “You laugh, but I had a fair share of stupid friends who shot themselves because they were too lazy to check, completely sure it was unloaded. You might survive a pistol, but if it happens to be a shotgun and, say, you shoot yourself here..” you pointed at your hip. “Trust me, you won’t have any children in the future.”

 The boy turned a bit pale, and others around him started to giggle. You smirked, turning back to the table.

 “Please build teams of two, we’re going to go up to the shooting range now. Take turns in shooting, and every fifteen minutes or so we will swap guns, so everyone gets at least one shot out of every different type. You will unload, reload and shoot. If a weapon jams, you tell me, and I will demonstrate for the group how to deal with that. Any questions?”

 No one seemed to have any questions, so you packed up the guns, while Eric and Four lead the group up to the shooting range. You followed them, handing out the guns at the roof top, while Eric and Four distributed the ammunition among the initiates.

 You usually were not the person to do the weapon training, but Max had politely forced you to do it this year. You were one, if not the best in handling the firearms used in Dauntless, able to repair every single gun your faction used in your sleep.

It was your passion and your hobby, and you were glad that you had been good enough at initiation to work as what you wanted. Your mother had also been a weapon tech, and you always wanted to do the same.

 You watched the other two instructors oversee the shooting. They had been in the same year as you, both transfers while you were Dauntless born. They were right at the top, and you right behind, being fourth in the ranking. Involuntary your eyes stuck onto Eric, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, while mustering one of the transfers loading a handgun.

 You had to admit, Eric was one of a kind. Incredibly handsome, strong, dominant and rough, also often cruel and arrogant. Dauntless though and through, although he still had some Erudite inside of him. He looked very different now, from the blue-clad boy who had arrived at Dauntless years ago.

He had something fascinating about him. His strong arms and muscular legs were also quite nice to look at. Eye candy, one could say.

 Shortly before lunch every group had fired every kind of weapon, and you packed up, checking if the guns really were unloaded, before putting them back in their cases.

 “How are they holding up?” you looked up, seeing Eric standing next to you, his hands casually on his hips, while looking at the group of initiates, who slowly dissolved, and headed for the stairs leading down back into the building.

 “They’re not too bad.” You admitted, closing the case in front of you. “Some are actually quite good.” Then you thought about that one girl, Tris her name was if you remembered correctly, who manage to hit the target only once. “Others maybe not so.”

 Eric chuckled looking back at you, and you noticed his eyes wander over your body.

“Yea, but they will get cut anyways.” He shrugged.

 “Still don’t really get the ‘cut’ thing.” You sighed, pricking up the cases from the table, one in each hand. “If that’s the new way of handling the weaklings, we will soon run out of janitors and kitchen staff, not to mention be overflown by angry factionless. There are enough of those poor sods as it is.”

 “Well, we are not Abnegation to hand out charity. If they want to be in Dauntless, they have to be good enough.” Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 “They chose our way of life. They chose to be here. I think that is proof enough. And some take longer to be their best.” You shrugged. “I think changing the rules is a stupid arse decision, and we will have to face the consequences sooner than later.”

 You turned away, making your way down to the arsenal, located right next to your workshop, to put the guns away. Eric just stared after you, a frown on his face.

 The next week was full of tutoring the transfers in handling everything from standard rifles to flame throwers and shotguns. Once you had made Peter shoot an apple off of the head of one of his friends, as he had been too cocky about his abilities for your taste.

 “You really think you’re the best shot? Proof it!”

 After that he had kept his big mouth shut, and the initiates were now completely sure that you were not to be fucked with. It was the perfect balance of them having respect for you to not act foolishly, but also having enough trust to ask you if something was unclear, or if they had any problems. You also helped the ones low in ranking, empathising a bit more what they had to do, to give them a better chance at making it. The cut really was a shit decision, but Max had refused to change the rules, even when you had yelled at him.

 There were also many weird and casual after-work conversations with Eric while you packed up. Before this week you had never really talked, and only ever seen each other a few times while he had been training to be an instructor and leader.

 You sometimes even thought he tried to.. flirt? Complimenting you handling the weapons and initiates. He wasn’t very good at it, though.

Still, he was intelligent and quite interesting, and the conversations were never boring.

 ----

“Is there something going on between Y/N and Eric?” Christina asked frowning, turningher head to Tris, who mustered the two instructors standing at the table. Over the past week they had always seemed to talk to each other after training, and most of them had noticed how Eric stared at her, when he thought no-one was looking.

 “I don’t know, but he seems to like her?” Tris shrugged.

----

 It was about two weeks later, quite late, and you had just returned from the wall, where you had overseen the installation of a kind of gatling gun, after a few factionless had attacked an Amity caravan. It only shot non-lethal ammunition, like the nerve agents used for training, mimicking the pain of a real gun shot.

 The government had decided that you should not aim to kill the factionless, but scare them away. Pointless, you thought, as you knew if they were desperate enough they would go there anyways.

 You were sitting in the mess hall, eating a late dinner, when you noticed the door open. Eric entered, wearing just a t-shirt and combat trousers, smiling when he spotted you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but continued to eat.

 Eric came over to your table, sitting down in front of you casually.

“Heard you were back.” He said.

 “Seems so.” Was everything you answered.

 “How did it go?” he asked, grabbing your glass and taking a sip of your water, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You blinked a few times at him, but he just chuckled. “You want to grab a drink, or are you too tired?”

 Was he.. asking you out? It was hard to tell with him. But his smile seemed sincere, not like the one his initiates received.

 “If you’re buying. Sure, why not.” You smirked. “Wait in the pit, I’ll join you in a bit.”

 “And how do I know you’ll come?” Eric leaned forward a bit, his eyes fixed on yours. There was a provocative smile on his lips.

 “Well, you have to take the risk, no?” you quickly raised your eyebrows once, before breaking eye contact and resuming your dinner. Eric chuckled again.

 “Ok.” He said, before he got up, leaving the mess hall, not looking back at you.

 You had to grin and bite your tongue. You had not really thought that you were Eric’s type. You had thought that he would be into women he could easily handle, that were just pretty and would hang on his arm while he was in the pit. But it seemed more as if he wanted someone who was his equal in ability, skill and intelligence, someone he could always compete with. Something like a fun, sexy rivalry. And if you were honest, that sounded really, really fun.

 You certainly didn’t hurry to finish your dinner, and bringing the dishes back to the kitchen. You also headed back to your apartment for a quick shower and to change your clothes, putting on a tank top and combat trousers which looked really good on you, and styling yourself up a bit.

 Finally, you made your way to the pit, which was filled with people. Dauntless members and initiates mingled together, it was noisy and as always full of life. You waved a friend you spotted a bit to the side, but made your way to the bar at the bottom, hoping to find Eric there. It was a bit hard to see him in the mass of moving bodies, even with his tall height.

 You leaned against the bar, letting your eyes wander through the crowd. Had you taken too long? Had he already gone? Maybe he hadn’t been that interested after all.

But your worries were blown away jut a moment later, when you noticed Eric approach you, making his way through the crowd of people. He had not changed, but he also had already looked great.

 A smirk was on his handsome face, and he leaned against the bar next to you, so close that your arm was touching his.

 “You look good.” He said into your ear, having to bend down a bit.

 “Worth the wait?” you shot back.

 “Worth the wait!” he chuckled. “What do you like to drink?”

 ----

Eric ordered drinks from the man at the bar, leaning against it sideways so that his front was facing Y/N. He was very obviously flirting with her, but she seemed to also enjoy it a lot.

 “I don’t know why, but seeing them together like this makes me super uneasy.” Christina shuddered a bit.

 “Why?” Will frowned at his girlfriend.

 “I don’t know they are both so.. scary.” The girl looked at her friends. “Don’t you think? The meanest people in Dauntless being all flirty.” She obviously had not forgotten Eric throwing her down the chasm, or Y/N pretending to shoot an initiate.

 Tris chewed her lips.

“Even scary people should be happy.” She finally said, causing the others to laugh.

 “Seriously? Can you imagine them together? The next round of initiates will all either die or end up factionless.” Chris looked over to them again, seeing Y/N sipping her drink, and Eric laughing. His arm was positioned behind her on the bar now. “Yuck.”

----

 “I tried to hit him, but he shot me in the leg first, hurt like a bitch.” Eric shook his head, and you noticed his fingers carefully stroking your back. A shiver ran down your spine, the good kind.

 “Maybe I should teach you how to shoot then. Didn’t know you were so bad at it.” You bit your tongue, before downing the rest of you drink.

 Eric gaped for a moment, probably unsure if he should be mad or not. Finally, he just chuckled, nodding.

“Yea, maybe a private lesson is what I need.” He grinned. He raised his glass, taking a sip.

 “If you need instructions how to use your weapon properly, we can start tonight, my place.”

 Eric choked on his drink, turning away when it shot out of his nose. He put the glass down onto the bar, grabbing a napkin from behind it to wipe his face, all the while unable to stop laughing.

 “Fuck, Y/N!” he growled. You had to laugh too, pushing yourself away from the bar.

 “The offer stands.” You winked, making your way through the crowd and towards the corridors, leading to the living area of Dauntless.

 You had just entered the corridor, when suddenly a hand grabbed your arm and turned you around. Before you could really react, Eric pressed you against a wall, his hands on your waist, his lips on yours.

 You immediately returned the kiss, opening your mouth a bit to deepen it, exploring Eric’s mouth with your tongue. You honestly didn’t give a shit that you were still kind of in the pit, with everyone able to see you. Both of you were known and quite prominent figures in Dauntless, so you already knew that there would be a lot of gossip, but you didn’t really care.

 Everything that was important now was Eric, and the kiss you shared. It was a pity that his hair was so short, you really would’ve liked to pull it. You ran your hands over his broad chest, before pushing him away.

 He looked a bit startled, but relaxed seeing your grin.

“I said my place. Not any place, Eric.” With that you turned around again, walking on and towards your apartment. Eric was right beside you, his hands snaking around your hips.

 Even though you made sure that he would not see it, you were very excited in this moment. Eric was not only insanely attractive, but you also grew to like him a lot. You would not even mind for this to.. become more. More than just a hook up.

 You finally reached your apartment door, and you tipped your personal code into the pad next to the door. As soon as you were in and the door was shut behind you, Eric was on you again, his hands wrapped around your waist, kissing you passionately.

 With uncoordinated hands you grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head in a swift move. The tattoos on his neck stood in stark contrast to his skin, and you could not hold back but to kiss them, before strongly biting into it.

 Eric growled, lifting you up with his arms, and you wrapped your legs around his hip. Apparently he had seen the open door to your bedroom, as he started to slowly walk over there, while you still attacked his neck.

 He pushed you off of him, right onto your bed. Instead of following you though, he got down onto his knees, opening your boots and pulling them off. You just let him go to work, interested what he was planning. Your shoes were followed by your socks, and he also made quick work of his own. Then he climbed onto the bed, looming over you, before kissing you again.

 “How thoughtful.” You murmured against his lips. He did not answer, only bit you into your bottom lip, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break skin. You moaned against his mouth, hands running over his exposed chest. Eric’s hands ran underneath your tank top, taking it off quickly, his hands running over your torso.

 The kiss was passionately and intense. Literally breath-taking , and you had to push Eric away to get some air. He only used the break to kiss your neck, moving downwards your body. Your nails dragged along his back, when you felt his fingers move underneath your sports-bra, pulling it off just like your tank top.

 Eric leaned back, taking a moment to muster you. Lust was in his eyes, and he licked his lips as he looked at your exposed skin.

 “Like what you see?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

 “Oh, Y/N, you have no idea.” And with that he was over you again, one hand supporting himself on the bed while the other one moved to your breasts. You gasped against his mouth as he kissed you once more, his taste intoxicating. Maybe that was also the whiskey he had ordered at the bar, you were not quite sure.

 Your hands moved own his chest and stomach, opening the fly of his trousers. You were really glad he wasn’t wearing a blet, you were really not in the mood to fiddle with that.

 Eric groaned when you pushed your hand into his underwear, a grin appearing on your face when you found his member already fully erect.

“Oh you really like what you see, eh?” you laughed, and Eric growled.

 Eric’s hand now moved down your body, opening your trousers with a way too skilled hand. He moved back, grabbing the waistband your trousers and your pants, pulling them down together, leaving you lying on the bed completely naked. You sat up, pulling him back onto the bed, turning the two of you so you were now on top of him.

 Eric seemed a bit surprised at that, but rolled with it, a smile on his face as he bit his lip in expectation. Just as he had done with you, you pulled his remaining clothes off, and just had to take a moment to look at him.

 Eric was incredibly muscular, and there were tattoos on his stomach and right leg that you had never seen before. They had the same style as the rest, in stark contrast to his skin. He was incredibly attractive, and the piercings above his brow shimmered lightly in the faint light inside of your apartment. You straddled him, moving your head down to kiss him again, your hands finding his hair. It was short, yes, but not too short.

 You pulled hard, making him groan, but at the same time buck his hips up. Yea, you could tell he liked it a bit more rough.

 “I’m going to make you scream, before I’m done with you..” he almost hissed against your mouth. You bit his lower lip, unable to supress a grin.

 “Let’s see who’ll scream first.”

 With that you moved your lips to his neck, sucking and biting his skin, moving downwards, over his chest and stomach. You bit his hip, so hard that he actually almost shouted, but the twitch of his cock against your chest told you that he enjoyed it.

 “If you bite down there, I swear Y/N, I’ll kill you!” Eric growled and you moved down even further, and you had to laugh.

 “I’m mean, but not that mean.” You said, before lowering your head and licking over his erection, enticing a moan out of his mouth. He looked down at you with hungry eyes, clenching his jaw.

 Suddenly he sat up, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you onto the mattress, before he rolled over you, his lips finding yours again. His hand moved down and between your legs, the moisture he found there making him groan.

 “How are you so hot, damn.” You barely understood what he was saying, but it didn’t even matter, because his fingers quickly found your clit, circling it. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. Eric growled, his fingers moving more quickly, before they suddenly dipped down, pressing into you.

 A loud moan left your lips and you rolled your eyes, your hips bucking to meet his fingers.

 “Eric!” it came out of your mouth, and you moaning his name seemed to turn him on even more. He quickly moved his fingers in and out of you, causing you to clench around him. His thumb was in a position to hit your clit with every thrust, and your nails now were so deep in his shoulders, you knew that even if you didn’t draw blood, you would surly leave marks.

 Eric kissed and bit your neck, his hand not slowing down.

“Do you have..” he started to murmur into your ear, and you nodded quickly.

 “Bed.. oh my.. bedside table.” You barely managed to bring out.

 “Good.” Eric stopped his movements, his hand gone, and this time it was you who groaned.

 Eric laughed, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, which was such a contrast to the otherwise rough actions that you had to raise an eyebrow.

But Eric didn’t even notice that, as he had sat up, and opened the drawer of your bedside table, quickly finding what he was looking for.

 He opened the shiny package of the condom with his teeth, putting it onto himself. Just as he wanted to crawl over you, you pushed him, so he fell onto his back, climbing on top of him again. This whole thing kind of felt like a battle for dominance, and you really liked that.

 Eric just looked at you with hungry eyes, his hands finding your thighs as you straddled him. You bit your lip as you grabbed his cock, guiding it to your entrance, slowly, very slowly lowering yourself onto him.

 You closed your eyes, breathing steadily. Eric was.. thick. And stretched you a bit more than you had expected. You had almost expected him to push his hips up, but he kept steady, not moving until you were all the way down. You opened your eyes again, looking down at the man, who started to grin when your eyes met. You grinned back, lifting your hips again, and moving down, this time a bit quicker.

 Your started up a hard, even if not so fast pace, and the sound of both of your moans filled the bedroom. You were sure the person in the apartment next to yours was probably able to hear you, but you didn’t really care about that.

 You leaned back a bit, throwing your head into your neck, your hands on Eric’s strong thighs, supporting yourself. You felt Erics hand run down your torso, before his thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tandem with your movements. You felt yourself edging more and more towards the end, the feeling of him inside of you and his hands on you was just.. amazing.

 “Eric..” you moaned again, and just as last time this seamed to turn him on even more. Eric sat up, wrapping an arm around your torso, and supporting your movements, quickening them while his mouth found your neck again.

 “Y/N!” his voice was coarse and deep and so god damn sexy it drove you insane.

 Your hands wandered into his neck, and one into his hair, pulling it strongly, so his head was back in his neck. You moved your head to kiss him, all tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but extremely erotic.

 When you let go of his hair he rolled the two of you over once more, him now over you again. Eric sat up a hard and quick pace, his hand automatically finding your clit and rubbing it just as fast. You moaned loudly, arching your back as you felt your orgasm draw nearer and nearer.

 Eric’s face was next to your ear, and you heard him moan and that was what finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard, your legs wrapping around Eric’s waist and you clenching around his cock. Your moan was loud, but nothing compared to Eric. One, two more thrusts, and he collapsed on top of you, breathing hard and fast.

 “Shit.” He murmured, before rolling off of you.

 “I won. You screamed.” You laughed breathlessly, and he chimed in.

 “Oh fuck off.”

[suchalonelysunflower]

Tell Me a Lie (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood X Fem!Reader

Requested: Kinda yes!

Summary: Part 2 of Tell Me What You’re Thinking. The aftermath of the dreadful night that left two broken hearts along the way. Could they ever fic it?

Warnings: ANGST. Language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of cheating. Some grammar mistakes (I’m sorry, English is not my first language)

Word count: 5.8k

Author’s note: Holy! I never thought I would end up writing a part 2 of this, but I’m so glad so many of you requested it and supported it 🥺❤️ thank you so so so much. As you know: Reblogs, Coments, Feedbacks and likes are more than welcomed and encouraged! I’d love to hear from you guys and I can’t wait to see how you react to this and the question: if you were on the readers shoes, would you forgive him? Thank you so much, hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

Part 1

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Calum stopped laughing at Mitchy a long time ago, but he didn’t seem to notice. Frankly, he was regretting his decision on inviting the singer today, knowing that he was completely high even before he got to the house.

He secretly envided Ashton who got away a few moments earlier, he couldn’t blame him at all as he wondered what he was doing in his kitchen and if he should go to make him company and leave Mitchy alone in his own world, not that he would notice either way.

But just before he decided to get up and leave, just like he could read his thoughts, Ashton walked into the living room. A feeling of relief washed over Calum as he saw his best friend approach, hoping that he could spare him some actual good conversations, but the drummer seemed too busy as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and stepped outside to make a call, entering the house a few moments later to grab his jacket and his keys.

“Where are you going Ash?” Calum asked, almost begging him to stay and not leave him alone with Mitchy.

But Ashton didn’t spare a glance at him as he muttered through gritted teeth “I’m leaving”

Calum was confused by his friend's attitude, not knowing what caused his strange behavior. But before he could ask him, Mitchy beat him to it “Aw man! We are just going to the club to meet some hot chicks! You should come with us!”

And that was the last straw Ashton needed to unleash the rage behind his eyes, the same rage he was holding all night as he watched you cry in the kitchen a few minutes ago.

Calum watched as Ashton’s face completely disfigured itself as he started yelling.

“You are both such assholes!” He said, looking between Mitchy and Calum, making the latter one jump in his seat at the sudden outburst “Do you even realize what you did? You just made the most amazing person on this planet feel like shit cause you can’t keep your comments to yourselves!” He looked at Mitchy “You don’t know a single fucking shit about her to talk about her like that. If you knew her you’d know that Y/N is amazing the way she is and you should be ashamed of yourself for disrespecting such an incredible woman like that!” Then he looked at Calum, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost “And you… I’m so disappointed in you. I can’t even look at you right now. You were really going to cheat on her? Are you really that stupid to lose her like that?! To lose her at all?! Do you know how incredibly lucky and incredibly stupid you are?! I am disgusted with both of you. And Y/N doesn’t deserve to cry for such man babies who’d talk about her behind her back”

At the sound of your name, Calum’s world fell at his feet. Did you know what Mitchy and him talked about? That wasn’t what he meant!

“Y-Y/N-“ He said, gripping the edge of his seat. Ashton just looked at him with pity “She heard it all”

That was almost three months ago. Three months since he watched the love of his life walk away from him and leave him alone. Three months since Ashton had said a full sentence to him that wasn’t filled with utter disappointment. Three months since he cut ties with Mitchy, claiming that he never wanted to see the singer again and that he should not try to contact him or any of the boys again. Three months where every night he comes to an empty house, hoping that it was all a bad dream and that he’ll find you in the kitchen studying for your next test or waiting for him with a glass of wine just to talk and share a moment with him. But now you won’t even spare him a glance.

He knew he couldn’t blame you. That is the last thing on his mind when he thinks about that night and all that led to it. More often than not he would find himself turning and tossing on his bed, unable to sleep. The memory of your tear filled eyes and the echoing sound of your voice take over him as he relives that moment over and over again, still unable to find anything in him to make you stay.

If he could change the past, out of all the wrongs he’d done, he will make it right for you. He would tell Mitchy to go fuck himself, kick him out for disrespecting you that way. He would have gone to find you in his room, make you pack your stuff and take you away to that mini holiday you never got live. He would cover you in kisses and beg you not to leave him because he will miss you too much. He would tell you that he loves you more than anything in his life and that he is sorry he couldn’t love you more.

But time cannot be reversed and some hurts might never be healed.

And Calum misses you, Duke misses you. But he knows you are not coming back anytime soon, Ashton made sure to tell him that in one of the last conversations he had with him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” The drummer said a few days later when he got sick of Calum constantly questioning him about you “And not only because she made me swear not to tell you anything. But because if I start talking about her and how you broke her, I cannot promise you it will end well for you. All I can tell you is that she is safe.”

At least he knew you were with Ashton, you always confided in him as your best friend. But that also meant that Ashton had to take sides and he made it very clear from that night that he was on yours. Luke and Michael stood neutral to the fight, knowing it would only hurt the band even more, but they told Calum that this time he was on his own if he ever tried to take you back.

And, then again, Calum cannot blame them. He knew that if they were in his shoes he’d do the same thing. What he did was horrible, the coward’s way to face things. And there was nothing he regretted more.

He tried to occupy his time with whatever came to mind, he could not stand being alone with his thoughts cause the only thing he did was think of you. So today he decided to go on a run.

It was a horrible thing that it didn’t work, cause after minutes or hours of running through the streets without a clear path, he ended up in front of Ashton’s place.

He knew he shouldn’t do it, that the right thing to do was to give you space. But when he saw the lightest shadow of your figure grace the window, he knew he had to see you, even just one more time. So he knocked on the door and prayed to every god he’d ever known that you would answer.

But nothing could prepare him for when you did.

You don’t remember much about the rest of that night. The night where you jumped in Ashton’s car and fled the house you used to know as home.

You remember Ashton having to carry you to his guest room, or at least you assumed he did it cause you don’t remember walking up the stairs. You remember crying, hanging onto his shirt and asking the universe why? Why didn’t he do anything? Why didn’t he fight for you? Why did you have to love him still?

You begged for Ashton to stay with you, the thought of being alone that night terrified you. But he replied that he was planning on doing it anyway “I’m not leaving you, Y/N” He said, and those were the most comforting words you heard all day until you fell asleep from crying too much.

The next morning you woke up alone and you didn’t know where you were. The sheets were not yours, the wallpaper and the pictures were unknown to you and the smell was unfamiliar. Unconsciously you reached your hand to the other side, finding it empty but still kind of warm and you wondered if Calum had taken Duke out for a walk like he used to do every Saturday morning that he was home.

Only when Ashton came into the room carrying a tray with a warm breakfast on it did you remember the incidents of the night before. Your eyes filled with tears again as you watch him lay the tray in front of you.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” He said, his voice was comforting at best, but you couldn’t help but hear the pity that came with it “But you need to eat. I know you haven’t been eating anything since at least yesterday's noon”

You looked at the food and shook your head “C’mon babe, for me?” He asked, softly rubbing your shoulder “I know I’m not the best cook but at least I know this is edible” He joked, making you chuckle through the tears that were already spilling from your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do” You honestly tell him.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.” You replied quickly “I don’t want to see him and I don’t want him to see me” Ashton looked at you and it almost seemed like he wanted to say something, but eventually just nodded at your wish “I just- I need to get my other stuff out of the house and-”

“I can let you know when he’s out. That way you won’t have to face him if you don’t want to”

“Thank you, Ash.” You smiled at him gratefully, placing your hand on top of his “I’m going to start looking for a new place soon and-”

“None of that” Ashton said shaking his head “You can stay here! I don’t have a roommate and, I’m sorry, but I don’t like the idea of you being alone” You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued “I promise I will talk to Calum that he is not welcomed here without my, and now your, permission. I won’t let him hurt you again”

That was three months ago and you can honestly say that you are doing just fine by now.

Yes, the first few weeks you spent them in your bed, crying and heartbroken at the thought of losing the love of your life. Calum was everything to you and it seemed like in the blink of an eye that “everything” crumbled right in front of you as you realized just how little you meant to him.

Many nights you tried to fool yourself into thinking that it was all a big misunderstandment. That you somehow misheard every word and it was just your brain creating scenarios that would never become a reality. However, the faintest echo of Calum’s laughter at Mitchy’s comments, his agreeability to go on with his plan, the things he said and the things he didn’t say… they were all still tattooed inside your head.

“A good fuck” That’s what he said. That was the only positive thing he had to say while his friend mocked you and humiliated you like it was nothing. Like if he hadn’t thought those things before.

You decided you wanted nothing to do with him. You blocked his number and deleted his number. You also begged Ashton not to cause anymore scenes between the two of them, knowing how badly it could affect the band if they let their feelings come between them.

A month went by, then two and now three, and not a day goes by that you don’t think of Calum and how he’s doing, if he has a new girl or if he ever got to meet that Vanessa girl. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you spent so many years loving him that it was impossible to fall out of love for him, even after he hurt you so badly.

Ashton helped a lot. He always tried to cheer you up, even inspiring you to try yoga and meditation to help you clear your thoughts and bring new energy into your life. And, even if you hate to admit it, it worked! In these three months you found out things about yourself that you never thought of before. You realized that all your dreams were for you and Calum, yet none of those dreams were only for you.

Your career, your job… those were your dreams. But soon enough those dreams became shared once you met Calum, pushing them aside from time to time to accompany him on tour, or to help him write a song or two when he got stuck, or even just because he asked you to. You were more than happy to do so, but you did that for him, for the both of you, not for you.

With that in mind, you began to search for yourself, for your needs and wants. You aren’t quite there yet, but it helps you keep your mind busy from the heartache. And, slowly and steady, you began to feel more like yourself again.

Just like right now, you asked Ashton to grab some things from the store once he’s back from the studio, telling him you were going to try to cook some pastries that your mom used to make when you were little. He said he’d be home soon and that’s why you weren’t surprised to hear the knock on your door, knowing that he usually forgets his keys in every set of skinny jeans he owns.

You laughed at yourself, thinking of teasing him about having a set of keys for every pair of jeans he owned. Only this time it wasn’t Ashton who was standing at the other side of the door.

Calum swore his heart could not break anymore until he saw how your smile disappeared from your face when you realized it was him. You were looking good, better than him at least. Your hair was a little bit longer and you still wore socks inside the house. But your eyes… your eyes were different. They didn’t shine anymore with that gleam that got him completely hooked to your gaze, the gleam that was reserved just for him. Now, he could only see himself reflected in those y/e/c eyes and he could see the disappointment behind them.

The first thing that comes into your mind was his beard, he never used to have a beard before, he always kept his face clean and neat but now his scruff was decorating his jawline and you were not sure you liked it. His clothes were a mess too, you realized he came running as you took in the beads of sweat that covered his forehead, but his clothes seemed old and they were not matching. He never really cared about the clothes he’d wear when he was in a rush.

You took your time to meet his eyes, knowing that once you stared at those brown orbs you might just break down. But once you did, it was like you were able to stand taller, to stand up to him as the only feeling you had running through your head was doubt.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Not a hello, not a welcome, not even his name. Calum knew he deserved none of that.

He flinched at the sound of your voice. The voice that once was sweet as honey, was now cold and hard like steel, just like it sounded before you left.

“Y/N I-” He said, pleading with a string of his voice, trying his hardest not to cry in front of you. Suddenly now he realized just how hard it was to see you again “Can we talk?”

You hesitated and Calum noticed that. He saw how you gripped the doorknob, and he hoped that you let him in despite knowing that he deserves to have that door close on his face.

“Please?”

You knew you couldn't resist him, not only that but something inside you begged for you to let him in, to hear him out. However, you could not help but feel a little bit scared. You weren’t ready to see him, but you have to.

With a sigh, you opened the door. You watched how his shoulders relaxed as he let go of his breath. He was as scared as you were.

Calum walked inside the living room. He hasn’t been here in months, but he can recognize your touch. You were everywhere in this room and he assumed that would be the case for all of the house as well. He recognized a few decorations that once adorned your shared home, you took them all with you when you left. Leaving him with not a single trace of you to hold on to.

You closed the door and followed after him. You found Calum standing in the middle of the room, checking the pictures you brought from his house, you knew he was trying to, even hoping to find himself in one of them, but all of those pictures were tucked away now, leaving all those memories behind.

Calum turned to you once you entered the room. He looked defeated, broken even, and your heart could not stand it. Even after all he put you through, you still care for him and you are sure you will always care for him, even when you don’t want to.

“I cannot start this conversation without saying how sorry I am” He said, hands in his pockets and eyes locked in yours. You could already feel the tears start to come but you held them back.

“Calum-” Calum, not Cal or babe or love. Just Calum.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in how the sound of his name now held no comfort for him “I need to say it, Y/N. Please” You nodded and he continued “I am an idiot. A stupid son of a bitch who lost everything before he ever realized what he’d done and I’m sorry, Y/N. I am so terribly sorry and I hope one day you could believe that” You wanted to say that you did, but he beat you to it “And I know that a simple sorry doesn’t fix things… fuck I don’t even know how to begin. I thought I was ready to see you and tell you just how fucked up I am without you but-” He started to choke up, his feelings were overwhelming even for you “When I look at you all I want to do is hold you close and it kills me that I can’t do that”

“I have no excuse, Y/N. No excuse that doesn’t make me sound like an asshole for treating you the way I did. Cause that’s exactly what I am, I am an asshole who lost the best thing that has ever happened to him just because he was too much of a coward to say anything.

But you have to know - you must know that I don’t think of you that way. I never did nor I ever will. Bab-Y/N, you have no idea what you mean to me and I know I’m shit at showing it to you but I swear, I swear none of what he said that night it’s true. What he said… I was so angry at him, I still am, if I’m being honest and that’s why I ended the friendship right there. I tried to convince myself that he was just high out of his head, that he says shitty things when he’s out of his mind and the only way to make him shut up was by following along to what he was saying. And I know it sounds stupid, fuck.. I don’t even know why I did it! At that moment I was just thinking that I didn’t want the night to end in an endless fight with him cause there was no way of shutting him up and now I wish I would’ve just kicked him out the minute your name came out of his mouth. I hate him and I hate myself for the pain I caused you. I know that it would be useless to say that if I knew you were there I would’ve ended it right there. But I know that even doing it behind your back was an act of disrespect and I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that, any of the pain or the tears… I’m still haunted by the memory of you leaving.

What I said that night was true. I had never and would never cheat on you, that’s not who I am and you know it. I wasn’t even going to go to that stupid club and meet the girl he wanted to introduce me. You gotta believe me on that one, I would’ve never forgiven myself if I did it. I can’t even forgive the thought of it or even the simple thought of faking to consider it for Mitchy to shut up… I would have never-”

“I believe you” You say.

Somewhere along his speech your eyes stopped trying to keep the tears at bay and just let them roll down your cheeks and into your shirt. You watched as he paced the room, trying his best to come up with the right words to apologize to you, to make you believe him when in reality you believed in him since the moment he walked through the door. You knew Calum and you know that his heart is always true. But his words did not make anything better.

“I believe you, Calum. I do. I just-” You snuffle “You said you just didn’t want to start a fight… Am I not worth fighting for?”

Calum almost ran to you when he noticed the tears. He always hated to see you cry, but now more than anything knowing that he’s the reason for your sadness.

“Baby, I’d start a war for you.” He said, cupping your face with his hands and delicately wiping your tears with his thumb “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, but I’d do anything for you, my love. Anything.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You cried, pushing yourself away from him.

Calum’s heart broke once again when you pushed him away. He wanted nothing more than to console you but he knew he didn’t have the right to do so.

“Because I failed to realize that there was a possibility of you not being with me anymore” He said, confidently “When I think of you, I think of forever. I never thought that it will ever come to an end, that you could leave me at any point or that the love will just fade away… I thought about a family together, a life where it will always be you and me. I got too confident that I ended up losing you. I failed you, Y/N. I know I did, and I can’t forgive myself for that”

His eyes were honest as they stared at you. You could feel the burn in your throat as you tried to speak “I thought of a forever with you as well” You said softly.

Calum took a step closer. It was the first time he’d ever let his heart hope for some kind of saving grace, for some kind of forgiveness and a start over “Then, say we can try again. Say that we can get through this and we can fix it, because I want nothing more than to fix this and go back to what we once had, or to start over if you want! I just need you in my life, Y/N. Tell me we’ll be alright”

He knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. He didn’t take the chance to defend her before, but he was sure he was not going to let her go again if there was still a chance of a future together.

“I don’t know if we can”

Every ounce of hope fled through Calum’s hands as he processed what you said. He could feel the earth under his feet start to shake as his world came crumbling down once again.

“Calum, I knew you never cheated on me and I appreciate your honesty.” You said as you wiped out your tears with the back of your hand “But the simple thought of you considering it broke every trust I had in you, even if you weren’t being serious about it, I can’t stop picturing you with some random girl while I waited for you at home every night. And not only that but the words you said that night still haunt me. Mitchy’s comments weren’t as insulting as the fact that you didn’t contradict him in any way. I felt humiliated, Calum. Humiliated by someone I loved in front of someone who you knew didn’t like me and would take any chance he’d get to demonstrate that.

It took me weeks to realize that I didn’t do anything wrong, but I still believed that that was the perception you had of me all this time. How can I come back from that?”

Calum’s eyes were pleading, his expression remaining unmoving from the pain that he caused himself by hurting you. But he was determined to make it right.

“We can!” Calum said, desperately trying to reach for your touch as he grabbed your hand and started kissing it “Baby, no. No, no no no please don’t say that. I love you with all my heart and it kills me to know that I’ve wronged you. I’ll make it up for it, everyday for the rest of my life but, please, at least say we can try. I- I know I don’t deserve it, but please. I can’t live without you”

You pulled your hand away from him, slowly as you watched the tears pour down out of his eyes “I thought I couldn’t live without you either. And yet, I am. I’m learning to live my life for myself rather than living it for the both of us-”

“I never asked you to do it”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted to. I wanted your dreams to be mine and to be by your side cause I thought that’s the only thing I wanted in life, but I don’t know anymore, Calum. All my dreams were shared with you that I don’t even know if I have some of my own!” You watched Calum’s face slowly lose all kinds of hope he had left and you know you should’ve felt at least a little bit guilty, but that’s not the case. On the contrary, it felt like you deserve this time for yourself “But now I need to find myself, find what I want and what’s good for me and I need to do that alone.

I can’t force my feelings, and I cannot force myself to trust you again when I can’t. Calum, you have to understand that you are a whole new person for me now. I used to believe that you would never hurt me and then, you did”

Calum’s knees fell to the floor as he reached for you once again, holding onto your legs as he desperately tried to make you stay. Stay in any form or way, stay in love with him, stay with him, stay… anything for you not to disappear from his life once again.

“Please, don’t.” He pleaded at your feet “I won’t forgive myself for this. I’m so sorry, my love. My Y/N. Please, don’t. I can’t love anyone but you”

You gripped his shoulders, trying to stay balanced as the curly haired man cried, making you shred a new set of tears again “Oh, but you will.” You reassured him, hoping your tone was convincing enough “Your heart is big enough to love again, to love better. Of course you will”

“But I don’t want to” He separated from you, long enough for you to crouch down in front of him so you could wipe some tears from his face “D-do you want to?” He asked softly.

You saw yourself reflected on his red, puffy eyes. He was never a man that could share his emotions so openly and, even though you’ve seen him cry before, the sight in front of you completely shattered your heart, knowing that his was utterly broken as well. But you can’t lie about your feelings, even if they hurt.

“I don’t know what I want.” You whispered to him.

Suddenly, you hear the front door opened as Ashton’s loud and cheering voice came floating towards your ears. Your eyes widen at the thought of his possible reaction, he’d hate to see Calum here, knowing that he specifically asked him to leave you alone until you were ready to see him, but he’d hate more the fact that you are crying.

“Y/N! I couldn't find that weird ingredient you asked, so I had to ask a lady there that seemed like she could cook and she said that this will work better on your-”

His eyes fall to the floor where you are kneeling down beside Calum. His eyes flickered between you and him, showing all kinds of emotions as he took in the scenario in front of him. He noticed that you were crying and he was about to ask what the hell was going on, but you beat him to it.

You got up and wiped some tears from your face as you walked up to Ashton, grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen. He reluctantly followed, leaving Calum alone in the living room.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Ashton asks in a hushed tone as he sets the groceries on the kitchen counter “What is he doing here?”

You sighed “I don’t know. Everything is fine Ash, don’t worry. He came to apologize and-”

“Did he say anything to make you cry?” He asked with concern. His hands were cupping your face as he wiped some tears from your puffy eyes, yet his hazel eyes never left your gaze for a second.

“We are both crying, Ashton. It’s fine”

You notice he is not convinced at all, but he won’t fight you on this. You’ve come so far that he is confident that you can defend and stand up for yourself again. He’s seen you broken so many times in the past few months, but he’s also seen you pick yourself up piece by piece like a phoenix.

“Are you okay?” Was the only thing he said. You can’t blame him for being protective of you, and you appreciated that. After all this time he is the only comfort you know won’t leave you behind.

“I will be, don’t worry” You said with a smile. He smiled back at you.

“I will always worry, love. Want me to leave you alone with him? I don’t want to but I feel like I won’t have a choice either way” You nod, “I’ll be down the hall if you need me to kick him out. I love you” He said, placing a kiss to your forehead and giving you a hug.

“I love you, too” You respond as he walks away.

You take a minute to compose yourself before going back to the living room where Calum is waiting.

Calum, on his part, was already on his feet. The tears were drying themselves on his cheeks as he watched you enter the room again.

“Sorry about that,” You said “He gets-”

“Protective, I know” Calum completes the phrase “He loves you, so I get it”

There is an awkward silence between the two of you, almost like if a wall was standing in the middle of the room, separating both of you in different paths. There were so many things left unsaid, like the way Calum felt guilty after seeing you with Ashton and realizing what he should’ve done months ago, or the way you noticed how he was closing up again, shutting himself out from his own feelings, but you both knew that now it wasn’t the time. You didn’t even know if that time would come.

Calum was the first one to talk after a while “And I get what you’re saying, I really do and I support you in every way… But I mean it when I say that i don’t want love if it’s not you” You sighed.

“And what will happen if it’s not me, then?”

He stays quiet,but a tiny smile creeps on his face as he is trying to offer you some comfort “I guess we’ll find out. But I’ll wait for you, Y/N. I will always wait for you cause I know that we belong together. And I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right for you. To prove my love for you”

“I can’t ask you to do that, and I won’t” You say after a while “We both need to figure ourselves out, to find a life without the other one around, and, if we do end up together, then that’s beautiful. But you have to be open to the possibility of another ending, Calum. I cannot stand around and watch you waste your life away”

Calum nods, he knows you are right, but that doesn’t mean he likes what you are saying. He will respect your decision, though. He knows his love isn’t fragile.

He knows that it was his time to go. He knows that he could still say so much, he could still apologize ten thousand more times and claim his love till infinity, but he knows you won’t change your mind and he can’t, no, he won’t blame you for that. So he turns to leave, but before he gets the chance to do it, you grab him by the arm and pull him for one last hug.

You don’t know what came over you, but a voice inside of you begged you to hold him closer, just one more time and remember what it felt like to be wrapped inside his embrace. And as you held each other close, somehow you both knew that this was a goodbye.

“This is it?” He asks after a silent moment of tears and snuffles, with face hidden in the crook of your neck, taking in your perfume and engraving it in his memory.

“I’m not sure,” You say “It might be”

“If it is. Could you lie and tell me you love me?” Calum pleads “Just for one last time?”

You pull him closer to you, “I could lie and tell you that I don’t”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @talksoprettyjjx @mystic-232

And I also wanna tag some of the beautiful people who asked for a part 2, I hope you liked it ✨ @theshyspy @wonderlandiswhereitsatyo @wontlastimokwiththat @wldflwercal Thank you ❤️

[jenojaemssss]

happier

synopsis: in which mark was happier with you.

pairing: mark x reader (i attempted to write the mc as gender neutral, so lmk if there are any tips on how to be more considerate! i wanna be able to write as inclusively as possible heh)

genre/category: angst, exes!au

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i have an assignment due in like 20 minutes (so i did not get a chance to proofread!!) but i got distracted thinking about mark while listening to my 2017 simp playlist :D so here's a mini-fic (that was supposed to be a drabble) based on this song!

I saw you walk inside a bar.

When Mark looked up from the almost-empty bottle sitting in front of him, he didn’t expect to be greeted by the sight of you. But what caught him even more off guard was that you were entering the bar hand in hand with someone new.

You, not yet noticing your past lover's hunched figure, walk towards a set of empty bar stools, another man's arms wrapped around your waist like possessive belt. Mark began to stare then. He stared at what used to be his reason. What used to be the one who'd wake him up in the morning, who used to be his reason for coming home when the days were too long, yet somehow eventually bled into nights. He continued to stare at what had been his true source of happiness.

In his eyes, you still were. You were his only radiating source of light that made him feel warm. You were his comfort, like a warm blanket during a rainy day, or an iced tea when the weather was too hot to do anything else but lounge around the house with all fans on full blast.

He said something to make you laugh.

Mark noticed how the one that accompanied you looked at you with a small spark in his eyes as you cover your mouth in attempts to shield your erupting laughter. That was a cute habit of yours when you laughed, and he used to stare at you the same way; he was staring at you almost identically as he's sat across the bar at that moment. The only difference now was that Mark stopped being the reason for your bright smiles and warm laughter.

I noticed how both your smiles were twice as wide as ours.

The first encounter between the two of you would forever be engraved in the mind of Mark Lee.

He was walking around a lake during a camping trip with a few of his friends, mindlessly swinging his arms around to cool off. Mid swing, though, he made contact with something he later found out was your face. He apologized so many times that you had almost busted a lung laughing at the poor boy's terrified features.

Soon, Mark joined you, laughing in harmony because apparently being smacked in the face by someone was the funniest thing to the both of you. Mark proceeded to awkwardly ask for your contact information, hoping to make up for the mishap, and you complied because the man was so darn cute.

One meet-up (he never specified it as a date) turned into two, which turned into three, and soon, you were seeing each other everyday in a small cafe hidden within the corners of your shared campus.

The two of you attended the same university, but due to being in different departments, there was never really a chance to come across one another while running to your next classes, but this cafe was the one spot you two had in common.

The cafe meetings soon turned into cafe dates (he clarified this time that they were in fact, dates), and soon enough, you were both head over heels in love, moving in together as you approached your final years of college.

Mark and your's relationship wasn't perfect, but it was always so much fun. Mark was always able to make you laugh because of how awkward he was, and one time you to left him behind on a trip to the grocery store because he was so embarrassing, making stupid puns at the poor worker just trying to stock the shelves of the cereal aisle. That day, you bought a watermelon the size of both your heads combined to make up for leaving him behind.

Mark bitterly smiled at his recollection. That was one of the last times he and you were able to smile together.

You looked happier.

The last time Mark saw you, it was on a sunny, Saturday afternoon. You were on your way back from a trip to your local convenience store, bags of chips, a tub of ice cream, and boxes of candy spilling out of the watermelon themed reusable bag he had left behind after moving out. You were still wearing his hoodie, then. He left that behind for you too.

It made him smile, knowing that you kept it.

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you.

You felt as though you couldn't breathe. When you entered Mark and your shared apartment, you sensed that something was wrong; that something was missing from your normally warm environment. Mark and you have been arguing more frequently recently, and the night before, it was the worst it had been in years.

Mark had been going out later into the night, sleeping on couches of friend's houses more than in his own bed. Your shared bed. You more often than not woke up to nothing, the radiating warmth missing from your side.

You'd had enough of it, and confronted the man when he walked into the apartment at 2 am. Words spewed from either side, along the lines of "I'm sick of this" and "What is there to be sick of?" Mark ended up sleeping on the couch that night while you cried yourself to sleep, clutching Mark's pillow and attempting to hold onto what used to be the warm, delightful love of your life.

The next day when you woke up, he was gone. He texted you saying he had to leave early for work and that you should go ahead and start your day without him, and you did. You began planning ways to talk things out, to fix things with Mark over a nice dinner.

You set your plan to action and made your way to the local market. When you returned home and stepped foot into the kitchen, though, your eyes landed on a small note placed right in the center of the dining table. Written on that note in Mark's sloppy handwriting were the words, "I'm sorry, but I need to clear my head."

You dropped the note and ran into your bedroom, only to see that Mark had taken almost half of his belongings from the cramped space, along with one of the suitcases the two of you placed behind the closet when you first moved in. He was gone.

But ain't nobody love you like I do.

He'd been gone for about 10 days when you receive a call from Donghyuck. The brown-haired boy informed you that Mark has been sleeping on his couch for over a week and would be stopping by within the next few days to take up all of his friend's belongings he'd left behind.

You hummed, almost numbly, and before hanging up, you mustered up the courage to ask Donghyuck if Mark was currently there with him. He hummed in response, and you mumbled a good before dropping the line completely, falling to your knees and sobbing until you no longer had tears to let fall.

You were broken, and it was all because of Mark, yet a piece of you continuously hoped and prayed that he was safe. That he was living in a proper home with a place to sleep, and that he wasn't too cold because he often got cold very easily.

Mark, on the other end of the line, was silently holding in his cries as his best friend hung up the phone, disconnecting him from his one true love. Mark never intended to hurt you the way that he did, but in his mind, because he loved you so much, too much, he had to let you go.

He was noticing how much he was holding you back, from job opportunities to your social life, he believed he was the reason. He was the reason you declined the job offer in the neighboring city because that meant you'd have to either move out or drag Mark with you, and you chose on neither and stayed. He was the reason you never left the house on weekends because only then was he ever home. He was the reason you had bags under your eyes, he soon realized.

You'd been staying up night after night, waiting for him to come home. You'd been crying because he would come home with bags darker than yours. You'd been losing sleep because you spent too much of your time worrying about him.

He was holding you back by loving you.

So he decided to let you go.

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby.

A few months have passed and Mark's finally settled down in a new place in the town you had rejected the job offer from all those months ago. A part of him wished that moving away would offer you closure, knowing that Donghyuck explained his side of the story to you. Mark wanted so badly to be the one who spoke to you that day, but he was afraid of the confrontation. He was scared he'd break and hold you into his arms and promise to never let you go, bringing himself and you back into the endless loop.

So he left. He moved away and had Donghyuck clean up the mess he'd made. Mark owes him one.

The other part of him, though, hoped that you contacted the agency that offered you the job all those months ago. The selfish part of him prayed that the agency granted your request and offered you the job you passed up on in this new city. He hoped that you and him could start over in a different setting, and maybe a few years from now, run into each other again. You'd be in better places in your lives and the two of you could start over.

He knew he was hoping for too much, but oh a man can dream.

If you're moving on with someone new.

Mark was brought back to the present when he hears a loud shattering of glass. He averted his eyes towards the source of the ruckus and landed his eyes on you. He noticed how your eyes grew into large saucers when he displayed similar shocked features.

Shit.

He quickly and clumsily packed up his belongings as he waved down one of the waiters, asking for the tab. Noticing Mark's shaken composure accompanied by the glares being sent in his direction from the other side of the bar, the waiter sympathetically printed out the bill as fast as he could and didn't let out a peep when Mark underpaid about 10 bucks.

Mark rushed out of the bar, only to be caught by the sound of your voice calling out to him.

"Don't you dare run away." The voice was cold.

"Not again, Mark." It was almost shaking.

You caught up to the man. He turned around, slowly, wishing that this was all just a messed up dream, and the alcohol was only playing tricks with his mind.

Indeed, though, this was his reality. Mark remained silent, only staring at his feet as you approached him.

"Look at me," your voice was softer now, but he noticed the stern edge laced within your words. You were never one to raise your voice, not even when Mark would spew incredulous things at you during an argument. You were always calm.

Mark shifted his gaze from the ground towards your face and noticed you looked wiser. He noticed how your soft features were now more sharp. He noticed how you wore your hair differently. He noticed how you'd ditched your casual jeans and a shirt for something more business-casual. He noticed how your aura had changed into something more serious. He noticed every little change about you.

He also noticed how, beneath all the physical changes, you were still you. You still had the same stars in your eyes. You still had his favorite scent. You still had the same quip in your lip when you spoke. You still had the same smile.

You were smiling at him.

Mark finally managed to meet your eyes, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off before you could get a sound out.

"You look happier."

Your smile dropped a bit at his observation. He was right, you were happier than you were after the breakup. But you were happier when you were with him. Using other men to distract yourself from Mark worked for a while, but it was never the same.

It's been over a year, and you still missed him. You missed everything about Mark; his smile, his laugh, his posture when he was furiously typing away at his keyboard because he had an essay due in 10 minutes. You missed the way he'd sing to you at night when you woke up from a nightmare, and the way he'd pet down your hair when the two of you wake up in each other's arms after a nap.

And although you missed him, a part of you was still angry at him. Angry that he left without an explanation, and had Donghyuck be the bearer of bad news that he wanted you to be happier. That he wanted you to have a life not revolving around him and his actions.

A part of you hated how he was so selfish, and how he never looked to you for his decision. Yet the other, wiser, part of you was thankful. Thankful that he cared about you enough to let you go, cared about you enough to put your priorities above his own feelings for once. Most importantly, you were thankful that he was your first heartbreak.

Before he was the boy who broke your heart, he was a friend.

You tilt your head a bit sideways, plastered another smile and nodded in response.

"It's a process."

He smiled back, toothy grin warming your heart. "I'm glad you're doing okay."

Maybe it was the universe finally hearing Mark's wishes of starting over, or maybe it was just a mere coincidence that you ran into each other that day. But nonetheless, the encounter made him realize one thing.

"I was happier with you."

[motherjoel]

hot cocoa (spencer reid x reader)

summary: spencer accidentally spills some of penelopes famous hot cocoa onto a beautiful stranger in the airport (who just so happens to be sitting next to him on the plane)

a/n: this one takes place during the holidays but its not all about xmas! also i tried to make this gender neutral and i think it is but if i missed something let me know

wc: 2.2k

warnings/includes: reader curses a lot & has flight anxiety, spencer is awkward and sweet

-

Spencer was rarely late- even when he had food poisoning from some bad chinese food, he made it into work with time to spare. Sure, he might have turned green at the sight of the evidence board, but he even made it to the trash can in time. His punctuality had come into question today, however, as he booked it to the boarding area. I shouldn’t have let Garcia distract me, he thought back to the holiday party at the office. Well, surprise party- they had all returned from a case sore and exhausted, but of course Penelope had baked an entire array of cookies and decorated the office to the brim. He stayed for one cup of hot cocoa, which turned into three, and before he knew it, his flight was an hour away. With his travel mug filled with cocoa in hand, he awkwardly ran through the airport to catch his flight home to Vegas.

Spencer never considered himself a coordinated person- sure, he had to have a certain level of finesse to be an FBI agent, but if he wasn’t a genius he never would have passed the physical. So when he found himself tripping over his own feet in the middle of an airport, he wasn’t as much surprised as he was perturbed. That annoyance soon shifted into pure embarrassment when he looked up to see you- the ethereal being he had just spilled Penelope’s famous hot cocoa onto. The beautiful person whose “I <3 DC” sweatshirt was now stained an unattractive shade of brown. His mind went completely blank in that moment, the apology he had wished to conjure up lying dead on his tongue. As he began to stammer in shock he stopped in his tracks- you were laughing. A noise Spencer swears could find world peace and end world hunger. A voice that finally encouraged Spencer to find his own.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, hands frantically flying to his personal pack of tissues he kept in his bag. You continued to laugh, doubled over as you accepted the wad of tissues.

“Oh, it's okay,” you said, taking a deep breath. “God, I definitely seem insane. Sorry, I’ve just been having one hell of a shitty day,” you began to explain, confusing Spencer even more. “So my boyfriend breaks up with me the morning of my flight across the country, which I’m running a bit late for,” you continued, glancing at your watch. “But I have to go home for the holidays of course so I pack my shit and head out anyway, but I forget a sweatshirt! I’m freezing cold so I buy this overpriced ugly thing,” you gestured to your now-stained sweatshirt. “Only for you to spill your…” you sniffed the mess, “hot cocoa?” you questioned, Spencer nodded frantically, “all over it. I guess that's one way of warming up,” you huffed. 

“Wow, I- um, I don’t really know what to say. I’m really sorry about your day being bad. And for spilling my drink on you, of course, um,” he reached into his suitcase and pulled out his backup cardigan. “Here, take this,” he said, almost shoving the knitwear into your hands. “Please, it’s the least I can do,” he said, unintentionally flashing what Prentiss called his “puppy dog eyes.” He exhaled in relief as you grabbed the sweater from him, sliding off your stained hoodie and replacing it with his soft and coffee-scented cardigan. 

“Thanks. And I’m sorry for dumping my days' trauma on you, but I really do have a flight to catch, so,” you gestured towards the boarding area (which just so happened to be his designated boarding area). You rushed off to board the plane after giving him a tight-lipped smile and a soft wave, leaving him in a dazed state. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed his suitcase and continued his beeline towards the plane. 

There was something about you that stuck with Spencer- although it may not have been your proudest moment, he was incredibly intrigued by you and the way you reacted to disaster. Spencer had seen his fair share of terrible coping mechanisms, but the way you laughed in the face of tragedy was something he admired- envied, almost. Envy wasn’t the right word for it, there were no negative connotations he associated with the way he felt about you. Perhaps it was too soon to tell.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped onto the plane, the anxiety of missing his flight finally lifted. Said anxiety was soon replaced by a new feeling that was ruled by a flutter in his chest, one that he had only experienced a few times in his life. This fluttery feeling was the result of seeing you planted in the seat directly next to the one written on his plane ticket. His breath caught in his throat as you looked up from the book in your hand, giving him a small wave. His eyes widened as he looked around, wondering if you were actually waving at him. You laughed and looked back down at your book, a soft smile rested on your lips. As Spencer got closer to his seat he could feel his heart rate picking up. You looked up from your book as he struggled slightly to lift his carryon into the overhead compartment. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment over the struggle, but he eventually managed to secure his carryon, taking a seat in 32 B. 

“So we meet again,” you smiled at the disheveled man next to you.

“So we do,” Spencer smiled and grabbed his copy of Les Miserables from his backpack- he lost track of how many times he had read it, but it was an easy plane read for him.

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Sorry, I probably should’ve introduced myself earlier after telling you my life story. I just didn’t expect to be sitting next to you,” you said with amusement.

“I’m Spencer, and no problem. Hows, um, the sweater?” he asked, trying to continue the conversation. Normally he’d be a quarter through his book by now, but you were a rare something that was more interesting to him than Victor Hugo. 

“It’s great! Cozier than my ‘I heart DC’ hoodie for sure,” you laughed and Spencer swore he heard angels singing.

“I’m glad, I felt really bad. Hot chocolate is actually a really difficult stain to remove because it has fat, sugar, tannins, and protein. It would take a lot of work to remove that stain, especially with the chocolate to milk ratio Penelope uses,” Spencer rambled, the embarrassment setting in the second he closed his mouth.

“Penelope?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, she's my coworker. She’s known for her hot chocolate and her cookies. Oh!” Spencer remembered the plastic bag of cookies Garcia had sent him home with. “Want one? They’re chocolate chip,” he said, grabbing the bag of cookies and holding it out to you.

“Sure,” you laughed, taking a bite of the surprisingly delicious cookie. “Oh. My. God. That is incredible! This Penelope person has a gift,” you laughed, finishing the cookie surprisingly fast.

“I’ll be sure to let her know,” Spencer smiled, taking a cookie for himself. A comfortable silence ensued as the two of you munched on your cookies, the plane almost done boarding.

“So, what brings you to Vegas?” you asked. Spencer was a little confused as to why you wanted to talk to him, but he decided not to question the anomaly.

“Oh, I’m visiting my mother for the holidays. I work at Quantico in Virginia so I don’t get to see her too often,” he shared, surprised at his willingness to be open.

“That’s nice! I’m kinda doing the same, except I am not returning to DC,” you sighed. Spencer felt his heart drop as he internally begged for you to elaborate, and as if reading his mind, you continued. “That boyfriend I mentioned earlier was kinda my only reason for moving here, and now that he's a cheating jackass- sorry, oversharing again, um, now that we broke up, I’ll probably just stay in Vegas,” you explained, opening the book in front of you and mindlessly flipping through the pages. He focused on the chipped nail polish painted on your bitten nails as you turned the pages, eyes moving to the title of the book.

“Le Petit Prince?” he asked, pointing at your book.

“Oh, yeah. I’m trying to teach myself some french so I’m reading this to get a little better,” you smiled before your eyes drifted down to the thick book in his lap. “You’re reading Les Mis?” you asked, slightly shocked at the french writing on the cover.

“Yeah, well it's my.... fourth, I think, time reading it. Well, in the original french,” he said, oblivious to his accidental brag.

“Damn, are you a genius or something?” you laughed, noticing the blank stare on Spencer’s face. “Wait. You are,” you pointed at him, your shock turning into joy.

“Well, technically, I am I guess,” he smiled awkwardly, trying not to flaunt his intelligence.

“That’s so cool! God, maybe if I was a genius I could get past the first chapter of this book,” you huffed, looking defeatedly at your book once again.

“May I ask, why are you learning French? It’s the fourth most important language behind Mandarin Chinese, Spanish and German. That’s just my opinion, of course,” he said, slightly flustered by the look on your face.

“Yeah, I guess it's not the most practical. But there's something so romantic about France, you know?” you asked and he nodded, blushing lightly. “I’ve always wanted to visit Paris, hell, maybe even live there. It’s stupid,” you laughed, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No, it’s not. It’s called the city of love for a reason,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. You were both silent for a moment before the flight attendants began their safety announcements and prepared for takeoff. Spencer noticed you stiffen as the engine started to rumble and the plane got faster. “Are you okay?” he asked as you shut your eyes tightly together.

“Yeah, yes, um. I just have really bad flight anxiety,” you confessed, eyes remaining closed. The plane lifted off the ground and you sucked in a deep breath, instinctively reaching over to grab Spencer's hand. All thoughts of germs and disease had completely left his mind at your touch- facts and logic meant nothing at this point if it meant you wouldn’t let go. “Could you just um, distract me?” you asked, peeking at him from the corner of your eye, hand still clutching his.

“Oh, yeah of course,” he said, thinking quickly for a distraction before grabbing the book from your lap and opening it to the first page. In perfect french, he began to read. “Lorsque j’avais six ans j’ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image…” he read for almost an hour before he felt your head relax on his shoulder, eyes closed. He continued to read for a bit longer before the lull of sleep pulled him under as well, your touch comforting him and providing safety.

Spencer woke a few hours later with a start to the seatbelt light beeping on. Gathering his bearings he looked to his left to see you already awake, looking at him with a smile.

“You’re cute when you sleep. Snore a bit, though,” you laughed and yawned, looking out the window. Spencer's heart rate picked up at your mussed hair and dazed expression. “Thank you for reading to me. I’m completely chill now,” you reassured him.

“Oh, no problem. Also, I’m not the only one who snores,” he quipped, a soft smirk on his lips.

“Hey, gimme a break! That was the most I’ve slept in days,” you defended.

“Believe it or not, me too,” Spencer realized, surprised that he slept more on an airplane than in his own bed. Maybe that difference was you.

“Looks like we’re almost landing,” you noticed, causing a pang in Spencer’s chest.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he acknowledged with a slight tone of disappointment.

“Hey. So this might sound crazy, but what if I gave you my number? And while you’re still in Vegas, maybe we can hang out? Sorry if this is too forward,” you cringed in embarrassment.

“No!” he started, eyes wide.

“Oh, okay. I shouldn’t have asked,” you immediately took back your statement.

“No! I mean, it's not too forward. I, uh would love to… hang out with you,” Spencer said, the words seeming unfamiliar on his tongue. The smile you gave him seemed to stop the earth for a few seconds (although Spencer knew this was scientifically impossible, something about you defied laws of science). 

The plane soon landed and numbers were exchanged, and one unexpected (but lovely) goodbye hug was given, and Spencer was floating. He couldn’t wait to tell his mom.

-

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taglist: @rigatonireid​, @goldenxreid, @aworldoffandoms, @moonshinerbynight, @averyhotchner

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 9

Both Zemo and yourself enter the restaurant together, his arm wrapped snugly around you. You dispose of your personal items and stand behind the bar.

Helmut makes you each some coffee as you look around the room.

As it stands, Escorpión Morado had a homely feel to it which was perfect for you. That meant you didn't want to completely lose that touch, but to complete with Stark, the restaurant needed a new look.

Sam and James came in for work. They saw you both chatting and laughing, drinking coffee together. They shared a look before Sam coughed into his fist. You both turned around.

You looked extremely happy to see them.

"There you are! We need to have a word with you," you waved them over. Helmut made them each a cup of coffee too.

"What's going on?" James asked, looking between you and his boss.

"Escorpión Morado is going to have a makeover, and we need all the help we can get," you declare, proudly.

They look at each other before looking at Zemo.

"What's going on?" Sam asks him.

Helmut sighs softly and placed his hands on the bar, he uses them to support his weight as he leans forward. You're trying so hard not to stare at the muscles visible through his tight shirt.

He is dressing this way on purpose? No! Get your head back on to the restaurant, not the handsome chef.

"Stark has opened his restaurant. He is stealing our customers. We need to earn them back. The only way I can think to do that is to do a grand opening of our own. Escorpión Morado will receive a makeover, we will update our menu, we will update our service. I don't want to lose my business."

You wrap your arms around the one closest to you and rest your head against his shoulder.

"You won't. We can do this. It's going to take a lot of work, but we'll do it."

He smiles at you.

Sam and James nod. They had worked for Helmut for years, he was a good boss and they each had so much respect for him. They had seen the ups and downs of Escorpión Morado and have dealt with every scenario. This was just one more.

"What's the plan?"

You glance at Zemo before answering.

"Helmut and I spent some time picking out designs for the remodel. I'm going to make a few calls later and see who I can get to come over and when. Can you help us clean up the shop? We could leave the outside tables for now, let's start inside."

They nod. You all finish your coffee and Helnut takes the cups away to be washed. You explain to the boys what you want them to do and then you leave to go make a call.

Sam and Bucky pull all the chairs out from under the tables and begin to stack them by the window, pushing the tables out to either side, making as much room as possible.

When Helmut comes back out, he begins clearing the bar. Sam helps him box up the bottles and containers, they store them away for safe keeping.

It takes a couple of hours to shift everything out of the shop, keeping on a few things back incase of customers.

You didn't want Zemo to close up until it was absolutely necessary.

You had made several calls. You had organised someone to pull up the floors and lay a new one, someone would come to repaint the walls in a couple of days, and you had hired a van for the weekend so could collect the new furniture you had organised.

You explained everything to the boys, discussing when things would happen.

"So, what do we today?" Sam asked, looking at the new open space.

"Clean everything. I want this place cleaned from floor to ceiling. We have to get all the photos and decorations off the wall," Helmut said, casting a glance to the photo of his father.

You smile softly.

"You should take him back to the apartment until the restaurant is ready for him to come back," you say.

Helmut nods.

Bucky goes to fetch the mop and bucket. Sam goes to get some furniture polish for the tables.

You grab a box and walk over to where Helmut stood by his father.

"I'll let you pack him away safely," you say, leaving the box on one of the tables.

Helmut stops you from walking away from him, pulling you into his chest and hugging you. You're quick to wrap your arms around him and let him hold you.

"It's going to be amazing when it's done," you tell him.

"You're amazing."

You smile and look at him. Helmut kisses you softly.

"Sorry to interrupt."

You both pull away at the new, yet familiar voice that had entered the room. You both turn to see the man you despised at the door.

Stark takes off his shades and tucks them into his pocket.

"I heard something was happening here, thought I'd come see what's happening."

"None of your business," you snipe.

Stark grins, chuckling in amusement.

"Closing up already?" He asks, not giving you pleasure of a response.

"No," Zemo states.

"Oh? Looks like it."

Stark reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a cheque. That cheque. He waves it about between two fingers.

"My offer still stands."

"We're not selling you the restaurant," you say, standing in front of Zemo with your arms crossed.

"It's not your decision, pip squeak."

"Pip squeak?"

Helmut places a hand on your shoulder.

"What we are doing is none of your business. Please leave my property and take that with you," Helmut nods at his hand.

Stark continues to hold it up.

"Why are you doing this? Just give in and accept my help. I could make this place something spectacular."

You glare at him.

"It is something spectacular. It's special. We don't need you, Stark."

Stark looks at you. There's a smirk on his lips as he takes slow and certain steps toward you. He comes to a stop directly in front of you and looks at you with piercing eyes.

"Who are you?" He asks.

Your tell him your name.

He scoffs.

"This has nothing to do with you."

You don't back down. You hold your head higher and silently challenge him.

"It has everything to do with me."

Helmut places both hands on your shoulders and pulls you away from Tony.

"What do you want, Tony?" Zemo asks, looking at the other man.

"I'm having a celebration this Friday at my restaurant. You're invited. Bring your data too if you'd like," Stark glances at you.

"We don't want to come," you say.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Tony leaves an invitation on the end of the bar. You don't even look at it, just watching him.

Tony head back toward the doors.

"Nothing you do will change the outcome."

You wanted to punch him so badly.

He leaves.

You turn on your heel and face Helmut. His dark brown eyes focus on you.

"We can't let him walk all over us."

"No, we can't," he agrees.

"What's he even celebrating?" You ask, glancing at the invitation.

Helmut steps around you to pick it up. He holds it up to where you can both read it. The card was white with cold trimming. In neat black lettering, it read:

You are cordially invited to the engagement party of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

Formal dress

Friday 6pm

You look up from the card at Helmut. He looks back down at you.

You both smile.

"It would be rude not to."

"Yes, quite."

Sam and Bucky return. Bucky puts the mop bucket down and grabs a broom, getting straight to work. Sam walks over to the bar and begins to dust it.

You smile again.

"A few more surely wouldn't hurt, right?" You ask, looking up at him.

"Not at all. Us two, plus four, perhaps?"

You grin.

"We have until Friday, by which the new floors and paint should be done."

Helmut nods.

"Stark has no idea what's he just done," you bite your lip with a grin.

Chuckling, Zemo turns back to the photo of his father. There was much to be done before Friday.

I wonder if you're proud of me.

Helmut grabs the box you gave him and begins to pack away the plague and photo. You go over to help Bucky with the floors.

I am, always.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @swooning-for-mc-avoy @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44

[sapphire-wine]

I would like to thank the academy and @jazjo33 for this opportunity and for supporting me all the way. Without further ado, the trope-filled Gavinners y/n fic, with a little twist. I think it's a given that it was neither proofread nor beta read.

I would like to dedicate it to @digitalstowaway

If anyone who wasn't in on this finds this please this is a joke this is a joke this is a joke this is a jo-

Y/N woke up. She needed to get ready to start her day.

She threw her hair into a messy bun. She adjusted her crop top shirt and looked in the mirror. She didn’t think she looked very special, but everyone else always liked what she looked like.

As heir leader of her gang, she was very busy and responsible for the lives of others. Everyone looked to her to lead them. They were her pack (she was also a werewolf), and she needed to provide for them.

She needed to get her coffee from the local coffee shop. She always went to the local shops. Not the name brands, she wasn’t like all of the other girls.

She gave her name and waited at the front of the line.

A man came in a little after her, seeming somewhat familiar. He wore sunglasses and a hat. His skin was pale and tan. He looked over at her, smiled, and walked over to give his order.

“Y/N” the barista called.

“Y/N?” the man said, “I used to know a girl named Y/N. She was really special to me. Well, I have to go.”

The familiar man left as quickly as he came. Y/N was a bit disappointed, but she didn’t let it show across her face.

She grabbed her mocha latte and went back to her small mansion.

Daryan, her right hand man, greeted her at the door.

“Hi Y/N. We’ve been waiting for you.” He said, sultrily.

“We have work to do, Daryan.” Y/N rolled her eyes, they were half blue, half pink. It was a special trait that designated her status as a werewolf. Luckily, many non-werewolfs didn’t notice it. She pushed past him into the house. He grabbed her arm as she walked past

“You’re late to the meeting with your parents, the pack leaders.” Daryan called over his shoulder.

“We’ve decided to sell you to the rival gang. Their leader will be here to pick you up tomorrow.”

“But mom! Dad! I’m the heir to the pack! You can’t be doing this!” Y/N yelled.

“We are. You leave in the morning. Daryan will help you back.”

Y/N turned to Daryan.

“I’m coming with you Y/N.”

“Daryan, you can’t. They’ll kill you.”

“That is a risk I’ll have to take. I can’t let you go into that nest alone.”

“Daryan..”

“Y/N…” Daryan looked like he wanted to say more, but then he punched the blanket and left.

“Goodbye…” Y/N said glumily, now alone. All this time, she thought her and Daryan were close friends, possibly closer. She thought he was her special someone, but now she wasn’t sure.

She fell onto her bed, and started texting a number she usually texted when she was upset. She found it one day when she was upset, and the person on the other end of the line was always understanding. They never told her their name. And she never told them hers. That did not make their connection any less strong.

The next morning the vampire leader came to take her away. He gave a credit card to her parents, to complete the transaction.

The vampire was a tall figure.

He took off his sunglasses to reveal two red eyes.

“My name is Klavier. I am the leader of my gang and also a vampire and I am here to take you to my vampire nest, Ja?”

Y/N was shocked. This was the man from the cafe! The familiar-looking man! The man from the cafe was the vampire leader of the rival gang. He ruled over his half of the city like a sheriff. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was a bit of a bad boy. He would protect you if you asked, and decimate his enemies.

Y/N was brought to the vampire nest. It was a mansion in LA and very high status. Y/N could tell by looking at it. (A/N: We don't have mansions where I live, but I bet they're pretty big!)

She walked through the door.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” A familiar voice said.

“Daryan?”

“Hello Y/N”

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I would come with you.”

“It is dangerous.”

A vampire came and interrupted them. “Our leader would like to meet with you. In his chambers.”

Y/N said goodbye to Daryan and went to Klavier’s chambers.

She saw Klavier standing at the window of his room. She tried to talk to him but he seemed lost in thought.

Because she was upset, Y/N started texting the number of her close friend, who she did not know the name of. She heard Klavier’s phone go off, and she gasped. He opened the message, and responded to it in front of her. She gasped again.

Klavier looked hopeful, but then his face fell.

“I...cannot be with you.” He whispered. Y/N was distraught.

She was beginning to think that Klavier was her special someone. She didn’t want to lose him to this.

“I...have a secret.” Klavier looked away, his shirt blowing open by the wind.

“And what is that?” Y/N questioned.

“I don’t like eating humans. It is unclean. I am….unclean.”

“No. That’s not true.” Y/N crept closer. She placed a hand on his chest. “It’s not true. Because you feel bad about it. That’s real, you’re real. I’m real. We’re real. Together. And together we will not eat humans.”

Klavier , “You’re right Y/N. Of course you’re right. You’ve always been right. Even when we were little.”

Y/N gasped, “you remember?”

“Of course I remember. You were very special. You were special to me. You still are.”

“Oh...Klavier…” Y/N leaned in.

“Y/N…” Klavier also leaned in.

They fell onto the plush big bed together.

Y/N woke the next morning in Klavier’s bed. It was empty. She was slightly disappointed. She went to her own room.

Waiting outside of her room was Daryan.

“Daryan!”

“I waited for you all night, Y/N. Where were you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“You were with Klavier.”

“What does it matter?”

“You’re pregnant Y/N. I can smell it. This is ridiculous!” Daryan punched the wall. It made a big hole. “You’re a werewolf, Y/N! He’s a vampire. What’s going to happen to this baby?”

“We’ll just have to see.” Y/N cradled her stomach protectively.

“What is going on here?” She heard Klavier snarl from behind her. He wrapped a shoulder over her arms protectively.

“He’s worried our child is going to be a vampire.”

“He is not going to be a vampire. Our son will be a normal human.”

“What?” Y/N asked, “how do you know?”

“Because I am also a demon. I keep it a secret.” Klavier explained, “the demon in me will neutralize any quality in this child. Is that ok with you?”

“Yes. It is ok.”

Daryan punched the wall again, upset he lost his secret love forever. He punched the wall so hard he fractured his hand, and lay dying from the blood loss.

Klavier snapped his fingers, and two vampires came to take Daryan to the infirmary.

“Will he make it?” Y/N asked, concerned.

“Only time will tell, Y/N. The blood loss was extensive. (A/N: I’ve been to crime scenes so I know about extensive blood loss)

“What should we do while we wait?” Y/N put her hands over her growing belly again.

“We will lead our clans together. Your parents died shortly after you left. You are the leader of your clan now.”

Y/N was sad, but knew her responsibility as new pack leader. Her blue/pink eyes shined bright with hope for the future. For their child. For each other.

(A/N: Hope you all liked it! My cousin told me I should start writing!! So I started with my favorite band, The Gavinners!)

~~

Pearl Fey signed out of her account on the public library computer, packed up her belongings, and started walking back to the train station. She felt extremely satisfied with her work today, and thought a lot of people were going to like it.

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Inej Ghafa x fem! insecure! Reader - Arms Of A Saint

A/n: I know this came out of no where but... Here it is! I promise that dancing eyes part 2 is coming out soon I just had an idea and I couldn't get it off my mind. Plus! Cause I just watched Cruella recently I will be making a Kaz Brekker fic based off of that ish!

Warnings: Body dysphoria, the reader thinks she's ugly, blood, guns, mentions of wounds, YOUR ALL BEAUTIFUL REMEMBER THAT!!! I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: You get the Wraith hurt, and your insecurities get the best of you

(image not mine)

You sighed and rested your forehead against the cool glass of the window. You considered bashing your head in too, maybe this feeling would go away then.

Tears started to build up in your e/c eyes and you couldn't stop them from falling down your face. Of course, you were crying - not being good enough fucking sucked.

Brushing your tears away angrily, you stomp over to your dresser. Why couldn't you just be good at your job? It would make everything so much easier if you could just be as good as the others. At least then you would be competent at something and your looks might not have mattered that much then.

You bring out a small bag and start shoving some clothes in the sac. More tears start to drip out of your eyes and you can't seem to stop them as you pack up everything (which is very little).

Stop being weak Y/n.

You hurry and run out the door with your bag in your hands. Your lucky it's a Sunday because most of the dregs would be out at the bar or on a job. You almost start running down the stairs but the window seems like the better option. And the Wraith wouldn't be out tonight.

That was completely your fault too.

Starting to climb out of the window and you land on the ground with a thump. You groan in pain, great you probably bruised your bone. Fucking fantastic.

You double-check you have everything and that your katanas are on your back. Tracking your path back towards the harbour where your boat would be there always waiting for you.

It always knew you were going to run back to it. You always did, in the end.

You were blind, naive even. You've always been running your entire life, running from your abusive parents. Running from sick men, running from your insecurities. You were good at it too, Inej may have been good a disappearing in plain sight but you could travel across the world and no one would be able to find you again even if they had the exact coordinates to where you were.

Inej, oh Inej.

Leaving your friends was going to be hard, but leaving Inej? You almost wept at the idea. She was your moonlight, yet she was your sunrise. Your moonrise, your little nickname for her.

She was always so amazing but you never envied her, no. You embraced her and all that she was, her bad parts and her good parts, Inej Ghafa was a saint if you ever saw one.

And the fact that you love her may also be another reason.

You run down the harbour trying to reach your boat before anyone would catch you. Although you did have a seeking suspicion that they would be secretly glad you left. No one screws up as many times as you do, and this was just the breaking point because you screwed up big time.

You had nearly gotten the Wraith killed.

You were with the Crows on a simple job, get inside the house that had ten security guards and kill the sleeping man and get out. Simple. Really you wondered why Kaz even needed the crows for this one.

Then how did it go so wrong?

You were all running, they knew you were going to be there but they didn't even double their guards. No, they thought someone was going to be there, singular. Nevertheless, they still knew. So you kill the sleeping man, you all are running but as it turns out what they told you was true. As soon as you would kill that dense man they would (try) and kill the Wraith.

They almost did.

Two bullets landed in her chest, it's a miracle she survived really. Plus that was three days ago and no one would talk to you, you had realized then that you had to leave. What were you worth if they couldn't trust you? You remembered the harsh words they had said, and you don't blame them Inej is their best friend. That didn't mean it hurt any less.

"What will happen the next time? And the time after that? You are suspended for a few weeks, we just can't trust you to do the rational thing as of right now."

Ouch.

"Y/n?"

You whip your head around and you go to reach for the katanas on your back but then your eyes land on Inej.

Your hands fall from your back and you can't meet her eyes. How could you? Not while you were going to leave to the only person who could even come close to a living saint. Fuck Alina Starkov no one could ever beat Inej Ghafa. But that's not why you love Inej Ghafa and there would never be one reason, but hundreds that you could list off for all of eternity if you wanted to.

Unfortunately, you didn't have that type of time, did you?

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes finally meet her and your breath catches inside your throat. The moonlight shines on her skin making her look like she's glowing and it accentuates her eyes making them look like they're dancing moons.

Like you yell to the world every night, a living saint.

Quickly you look down again not wanting to have to see her face when you break it to her.

"Leaving." It's one word with two syllables but it still makes tears come to your eyes. Or maybe it's just the person you telling it to. But you force the tears down but you don't even bother with the neutral 'I don't care' face. Your not Kaz Brekker and Inej would see right through that. Maybe that's why you always liked her, she could understand you.

To a point obviously.

"That's all? You're leaving and that's all your going to say to me! Leaving!"

You throw your hands up in the air. "Well, I can't stay here! Not in Ketterdam! I almost got you killed. You don't come back from that! I just can't bear the thought that-" You cut yourself off not being physically able to finish the sentence. How could you not though? You had to make her understand why.

"That maybe next time you would be gone, and it would be because of me."

Shock adorns her face. "You see why now? I can't stay! Everyone is already mad at me as it is! I just am tired of not being enough and getting people killed."

You take a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. "And I would be damned if you got caught up in my web of screw-ups, you don't need that." You shake your head to put emphasis on your words. "It would only get you killed and the world needs Inej Ghafa."

"By the saints Y/n! What the fuck are you talking about!"

Jumping startled at her outburst you realize then she might not just let you go like you were hoping for.

Well... Shit.

Honestly, this was not part of the plan.

"Of course you're enough for our little group of friends! Your a valuable team member who can slice people in half, and no one has the same knowledge of ancient to new languages as you! You blend in so well in a crowd it's scary! But we don't just keep you around because your good for jobs you brighten everyone's day by taking time for all of us, we need you!" Inej sighs and takes a step forward. She takes her hands into mine.

"I need you."

You breathe out a stuttering breath as she says the words. I need you. Although the words brought fields of hope into your heart, the doubt was still in the back of your mind, why would she need you? And for sure the Crows didn't want or definitely need you! But Inej wouldn't lie!

"I think-" You take in a breath and look straight into her eyes. Her eyes are the night sky. They're brown almost black but they have flickers of light like the stars in the Zemni farms. It hits you with full force and you nearly stumble over. You force yourself to look and pull away from her arms and those beautiful eyes.

"I don't think you get it Inej."

"Then explain it to me."

You close your eyes. How could you explain it to her? That every moment you look in the mirror and you feel disgusted with yourself. That you feel like your skills could never match with the ones of your friends?

"I'm just not enough, okay! I look at myself and I see these tiny flaws and they slowly just get bigger, and bigger. And every time I attempt to make them go away it just gets worse!"

You let out a choked-on-sob laugh. "And then my useless skills! Don't even get me started on that! Maybe looks don't matter that much, and I can suffice without looking even a bit fucking pretty but my 'talents' made up for that! But I look around at everyone else and I just can't seem to see why anyone ever keeps me around!"

Tears finally fall from your eyes as you sob and your knees wobble and they go to give out, but Inej catches you.

"I wouldn't lie Y/n, you are my everything."

The words were simple, yet they held so much weight of what they actually meant.

"You will always be enough for me."

And the Saint takes you into her arms.

Words 1605

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien

(I do not own six of crows or shadow and bone!)

[thanxxskz]

Can you do stray kids reaction when their crush ends up breaking up with their now ex and is trying to get over them

of course! hope you like it!

little a/n: just bc i use he/him pronouns for the ex doesn't mean that y/n is a female, they're still a gender neutral reader

a/n pt.2: i don't include in the reaction that they have a crush on you because it's already included in the title plus i think the actions of skz just imply it.

stray kids reaction to their crush breaking up with their now ex and trying to get over them

chris

he was super sad when you appeared in his front door with your tears falling down your eyes. he didn't know what happened and when he asked you, you just cried harder. he hugged you and made you go inside to give you something to drink and try to understand what happened.

"he broke up with me" you said, turning his face immediately looking at you.

"he did? why?" he asked

you sighed "he said i spent too much time with you, thing that's not true anyways, but whatever. he made me chose between you and him and... you know how i am; i think that if a person makes you choose, that person isn't worth it of my time"

he pat your back "i am sorry he did that and that you're feeling like this now... maybe watching a movie and some ice cream will help you getting over him?"

minho

he knew the moment he met your ex that he was no good for you. you were a good person, someone who gave love to everyone around you, but since dating that person, you stopped stopping by his house. he had told you plenty of times that your now ex was an absolute ass, but to no use.

so when you texted minho saying you were now a single person and wanted to quickly get over your ex, he immediately know what to do. he answered you saying to meet up in front of his house. he planned to take you to a new cat café.

"my cats really help me when i'm sad so i figured these many furry friends would help you too"

you spent the afternoon with minho and the little kittens (or furry friends, as minho liked to call them). they played with you and for the whole afternoon, you forgot about your ex.

changbin

for changbin, the best way to release your anger or sadness is to work out, so when you told him your ex had broken up with you and you were super angry, he didn't think twice and put you in front of a boxing sack.

"what do you want me to do?"

"weren't you angry?" he asked, you nodded "then hit the sack with anger. it'll help you release both your anger and stress, so go"

"i'll hurt myself"

"you won't but if you casually do i'll be here for you as i always am"

hyunjin

"i told you, y/n. he was trash"

you pouted, hand on his lap while his hand caressed his hair "i should've listened to you. damn fucker had to cheat on me on our anniversary"

you couldn't help but tear up a bit, making hyunjin pout his lips at the sight "why don't we go for a walk? and tomorrow i can take you to the beach and you can relax there" you looked at him "it's okay, i have a day off and i want it to spend it with you"

you smiled, making him smile "okay, we can do that. i'm hungry too"

"then we should go buy some noodles!"

jisung

"you can spend the night here and tomorrow i will go with you and help you pack everything left in your ex's apartment"

"thank you, ji. i appreciate it"

after watching some movies and eating the take out food jisung had ordered, he got up to go to sleep, looking at you confused "aren't you coming?"

"i kinda... kinda want cuddles tonight"

he snorted "sure thing baby, but i rather go to bed and we can cuddle there"

while cuddling, jisung could only think of a thing or two he would say to your ex for making you so unhappy.

felix

"so i decided that to get over your ex i'd make you help me bake brownies and cookies! that way your mind will stop thinking about that asshole and you'll forget him faster"

"don't think me, lix, you just want someone to help you wash everything later"

he laughed "it's just part of it"

you started mixing ingredients, giving a helping hand from time to time and when the cookies and brownies were baked, to decorate them.

"they look really nice! i hope this helped you!"

"a bit" you smiled "let me help you wash everything"

seungmin

he thought that the best way for you to get over your ex (whom you had loved deeply) was to take you to a museum, a place he knew you loved and helped you get your mind off everything.

"that painting is so pretty"

"you look prettier" seungmin mumbled, but you didn't hear him

you finished the tour, went to the gift store and then had dinner together. that little meet up with seungmin helped you a bit and really made you want to spend more time with him.

jeongin

it's not that he was happy, but he silently celebrated that you had broken up with your now ex. not because that he liked you or anything (he did) but because he saw the way he treated you, and it wasn't good.

more than your ex breaking up with you, you broke up with him because it had been long since you had visited your parents and when you told him you wanted to go go Jeju to visit them, he completely forbid it. you were an independent person that didn't take shit from no one, so after that happening a few more times, you broke up with him.

"i am not that sad but after being with him for so long, i feel a void, i don't know"

jeongin nodded "i see. it's understandable, you got used to his presence in your life, y/n. but let me help you get over him and your remaining feelings"

"surprise me"

he took two tickets from his pocket "let's go kart racing!!"

---