#maybe i should have ignored this but it hit a nerve apparently sorry

[aspecbuddie]

https://www.tumblr.com/aspecbuddie/747740160443252736/this-may-be-the-aroace-side-of-me-talking-but

The thing is though. They wouldn’t stay as they are. It would change and have no choice but to change. With how they are now, and how they have been the last 6 years, the things they get from each other, the emotional support, the investment, the open vulnerability and honesty, the being there when the other needs, those would all be regulated to their romantic partner. Because that’s what they essentially fill for each other. You give them actual adjusted healthy relationships and that’s not needed anymore. If Buck has someone who is totally accepting and safe and supportive, someone to build a family with, then he will turn to them first, not Eddie. You give Eddie that and now he’s got someone to turn to first for help with Chris. Chris has someone to go to other than Eddie when he needs help. The will? In this scenario realistically Eddie wouldn’t leave it as Buck. It’s gonna be changed to his actual partner. And I’m not directing this at you specifically so I’m sorry if it seems that way. But when people say “I’m fine with buddie not happening now but only as long as it doesn’t change things” they need to realize it’s impossible for that to happen. Sure they would still be best friends and I have no doubt they’d show up if needed or Chris needs but it won’t be the same or as much and all those little moments we’ve gotten from them over the years will be gone because those roles will be filled by others.

Short version of this reply: best friends are not 'fillers' until romantic partners show up, Chris can have more than two parents - Buck won't stop being who he is to Chris even if buddie never go romantically canon. However Anon, realistically, I know that your point of view is how the majority of people will think so is likely what would happen in the show, but it doesn't mean I have to like it, or can't hope things would be different.

Longer reply under cut

Anon. I understand what you're saying, and I understand that - sadly, in my personal opinion - this is the reality, and probably what would happen on the show. Which is a small part of why I am rooting for canon romantic buddie, because I know that the only way they are gonna stay as close as they currently are is if they get together.

Also there's a reason I started that post with 'this may be the aroace side of me talking'. Because the idea that buddie would get less close if they get significant, good, long term romantic partners makes me wonder if I'm just a - to use your phrasing - 'filler' in my friends lives until they get significant romantic partners. So maybe this hit too close too home, maybe I'm taking this too personally.

But still...

In my opinion:

Romantic relationships shouldn't be seen as superior, or the goal result. Friends can - and should - be just as important.

Aroace people - or anyone who doesn't want to be in a relationship - are not 'fillers' until people find their romantic partners.

Also, re the Chris of it all: more people for a kid is never going to be a bad thing. 'You give Eddie that and now he’s got someone to turn to first for help with Chris. Chris has someone to go to other than Eddie when he needs help.' Respectfully, no. Chris has ANOTHER person to go to other than Eddie. He's not going to stop going to Buck, loving Buck, because he's got another adult in his life that loves him.

And even if Eddie gets remarried, there's no guarantee that he would change his will. My stepmum is not who I would have gone to if my parents died. I love my stepmum, she's great, an amazing mum to my stepsisters, but I know that she wouldn't have become my guardian if my parents died. So maybe Eddie gets remarried and still decides that Buck is the best person for Chris, is still the person who would fight the hardest for him.

So yeah, I get where you're coming from, and know that this is the reality of the majority of people's viewpoint. But I'm still holding out hope that IF buddie don't go canon, they can stay as close as they are.

[lcvernat]

Medicine | Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Request: any chance you can write about reader cancelling Nat on a date for no apparent reason. Confused, Nat shows up a y/n’s house and finds her miserably sick with a horrible cold or something? y:n says shes fine but Nat insists on taking care of her? Just pure fluff 💕💖

Word Count: 1.6k

Content Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, so so much fluff, mentions of the flu/painkillers

A/N: 2 fics in 2 days? it's a christmas miracle!!! i hope you enjoy this anon and i'm sorry for the wait <3 i've heard on tiktok about a terrible flu going around so if you've been hit by it i am so sorry and hope this fic helps somewhat <3

Flu season this year was a bitch. Clearly, you had committed some heinous crime in your past life to deserve this. Your body was aching; every time you swallowed it felt like shards of glass were digging into your throat, your nose was so red and runny you could likely pass for Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, you were constantly coughing so hard you felt like you were going to ascend, and the headaches and earaches were torture. One moment you were burning up, the next you were freezing.

Tissues, empty water bottles, and an empty packet of painkillers scattered your bedside table. You couldn't even bring yourself to go buy more painkillers because it felt like someone had shot you in every nerve in your body every time you stood up. This was hell.

To make matters even worse, you had to cancel on your date with Nat. You were left with no choice, really, but you still felt horrible because it had been in planning for so long - having an Avenger for a girlfriend wasn't always ideal because you could rarely find a time when both of your schedules aligned to go out. And of course, the one time you both were free, the universe decided to stick a massive middle finger up at you and punish you for no apparent reason. Probably for something your ancestor did 400 years ago.

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the silence in your bedroom. You had no energy to do anything other than stare blankly at your ceiling, occasionally interrupted by a coughing fit. It was like you were on your death bed (it really felt like you were). But hey, at least your stomach had rumbled, hopefully that meant your appetite was coming back. Your gaze moved to your bedroom door, and you mentally calculated the distance between your bedroom and the kitchen, trying to see if you have the effort to get food right now. A hallway, a flight of stairs, some more walking, and then the kitchen. It didn't seem that hard. You could do this.

"Okay, Y/N, you've got this," your voice was so raspy and hoarse from both disuse and your aching throat, but you still decided to attempt to hype yourself up. You moved your body so slowly, wincing every time a shot of pain went up your spine. It took you approximately 5 minutes longer just to reach the top of the stairs than it normally would have. In your sickened state, the stairs looked way longer than usual. You sighed, maybe you should just give up. Was soup really this worth it?

Your stomach rumbled again. Okay, maybe it was. Very, very slowly, wincing every step, you managed to make it downstairs and to the kitchen. You grabbed some canned soup, poured it into a pot and set it on the stove. As you were busy making yourself some tea with honey whilst waiting for your soup to heat up, the doorbell rang.

You really were not in the right state to converse with someone right now. You looked like you'd been dragged through hell and back, because that is how you currently felt. So, the only option was to just ignore whoever it was, until it rang again. And again. And again. And then the person started banging on the door.

Good god. This person was desperate. No, you didn't want to buy their girl scout cookies. Shuffling over to the door, you huffed before swinging it open. "I am no-" You stopped speaking, your mouth agape as your gaze bounced between the face of your girlfriend and the gun that she was currently clutching in her hands.

She looked worried. Very, very worried.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Natasha pushed passed you and into your house, scanning her surroundings as if she was expecting a murderer to pop out of a hiding place. She slowly put the gun into her back pocket when she considered the coast clear.

"I'm fine?" You raised an eyebrow in confusion before a coughing fit overtook you, forcing you to bend over until it subsided.

Natasha hurried back towards you, concern etched into her features, "First you cancel our date, then you don't answer my texts, and then you take years to answer the door? I thought something had happened! I was worried sick!" She tried to pull you in for a hug, but you sidestepped her and shook your head.

"Bad idea."

"Are you sick?"

"Nah," you waved her off, "just a cough, but I don't want you to catch it. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Or look fine, for that matter."

"Wow, thanks," you shuffle your way back to the kitchen, continuing on with your task of making yourself some soup and a cup of tea with honey, trying your hardest to ignore the aches in your body.

"You're sick. I know you are. Let me take care of you," Natasha followed behind you, her tone worried but also leaving no room for argument. The redhead was determined to take care of you, and your protests were definitely not going to stop her.

"Really, I'm fine," your body clearly hated you and took that exact moment to have a sneezing fit, so your statement couldn't of seemed more false if you tried. After the sneezes had subsided and you brushed the tears from your eyes, you looked up to see Natasha holding a packet of tissues in her outstretched hand. You weren't going to ask where they came from, but you were grateful and took them anyway. "Don't you have Avengers duties to do or something?"

"You're more important than that," she stepped closer to you, and you couldn't help but smile at her. "Let me take care of you."

You finally give in to her, desperately wanting to be in the safety of her arms and to let someone take care of you. You nod slowly, and she closes the distance between you two, pulling you into a hug and wrapping her arms around you tightly.

"You're going to get sick."

"Don't care, what hurts and what can I do?"

You bury your head in the crook of Natasha's neck, so your voice comes out muffled, "Everything. Literally. I've ran out of painkillers, my head hurts, my ears also hurt for some reason, my entire body hurts basically. My throat feels like nails every time I swallow. I am dying."

"Alright," Nat says softly, "let me carry you back up to bed. I'll bring your soup and tea up, and then I'll go to the shop to buy you more painkillers. I'll make you a hot water bottle, too, that usually helps with the aches."

"You're the best."

"I know," Natasha pulls back and kisses you softly on the forehead before scooping you up bridal style. You don't even complain, you wouldn't have the energy to walk back up the stairs yourself anyway. Though, you couldn't help but notice that you feel better already, it was like she was the medicine you needed all along.

"I feel like a princess right now. Even though I don't look like one," you tried to laugh, but it came out like more of a croak, and it hurt your chest, so you stopped.

"You are a princess, and you always look like one."

When you finally get back to your room, Natasha places you down gently on your bed and pulls the covers up to your chest. She tries to kiss you on the lips, but you move away from the redhead, still not wanting her to catch any of your germs. She glares at you before grabbing your face in her hand, forcefully planting a kiss on your lips and you pout when she pulls away.

"You're going to get sick."

"Don't care," she clears your bedside table, putting all the tissues into the bin and grabbing the empty water bottles and empty painkiller packet to bring downstairs, "I'll be right back up with your soup and tea."

Natasha does indeed return a few minutes later with a tray, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea sat on top of it. You sit up, smiling gratefully at her as she hands you the tray. "You are the best servant ever."

She rolls her eyes, "I love you too, moya lyubov. I'll just head to the store really quick to get you more painkillers, and I'll make you a hot water bottle when I get back. Then we can lie in bed all day and watch movies, okay?"

Your stomach warms at her words, and it definitely isn't because of the sip of tea you just took. "Are you really sure you aren't afraid of getting sick?"

Nat shakes her head, "If getting sick is the result of taking care of the love of my life, then so be it. If we can't go out for our date, we can still have one here. Okay?"

You nod, smiling so wide your cheeks start to ache. Natasha returns the smile, leaning down to give you yet another kiss, all thoughts of germs be damned. "I'll be as quick as I can,"

"I love you,"

"I love you more,"

"I love you most,"

"Not possible!" She retreats, closing the door behind her before you can offer a retort. You feel oddly lonely now that she's left, like a part of you is missing every time you're not around her.

Your phone pings with a notification then, and you pick it up from your bedside table to check it. It's from Natasha, 'Did I tell you that your raspy voice is really hot? Get sick more often', you roll your eyes and set your phone back down.

Despite feeling the worst you think you've ever felt when sick, you feel oddly better now that you know you have Natasha to take care of you. Maybe she really was the medicine that you needed all along.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718 @lovelyy-moonlight

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[rhythmicmeow]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana PARTIES: Metzli @muertarte and Leticia @rhythmicmeow SUMMARY: Leticia comes to Metzli's home for her first lesson in controlling the balam. CONTENT WARNINGS: implied emotional abuse (past)

It was always a bargain meeting new people. Under normal circumstances, Leticia would’ve been ignored, never to even be glanced at again. She said she needed help, that she feared the spirit in her could one day cause some very real damage. That was enough to convince Metzli to at least give her a chance. It wasn’t so bad, they thought. Given that they’d set certain boundaries, Leticia had actually taken to adhering to them. She sat quietly with them, doing her best to find her center—a little piece of safety within her mind.

Push came to shove, she apparently had some failsafe, but she had yet to reveal what exactly that was. It didn’t really matter to Metzli. They were focused on utilizing only herself and discovering what snapped her mind into releasing the spirit within her. Didn’t really seem like much would set her off, anyway. Metzli didn’t know Leticia well, but they knew what rigidity was. That was their constant state of being. Something was weighing down every fiber of Leticia, and they needed to pick at it. Rip off the scab so the wound could be exposed to the burning air. 

“You are upset.” Metzli finally broke the silence, opening their eyes to reveal the crimson behind their lids. “Does it make your Balam spirit want to burst out?”

-

Guilt was at the surface of her thoughts. At first, it had exclusively been guilt about what Leticia had done - but now it was sitting next to Metzli and pretending like she hadn’t just murdered someone like them. The guilt of pretending to be a good person. And shame at becoming the very monster she had been so proud of not being. There was no blame to be placed anywhere but on Leticia’s shoulders. 

Metzli spoke and Leticia squeezed her eyes, begging them to stay shut and not look directly at them. “I thought this was a less-talking situation.” Irritation touched the edges of her voice, and a new wave of guilt hit. Metzli didn’t deserve that. They were trying to help. 

Exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes, bowing her head to focus on the ground in front of her. “I am upset,” Leticia confirmed, but shook her head at the following question. She was distressed, but not to the point she had been in New York. This place, tucked away in the forest, was calming. There were no flashing lights, there was no one to judge her for her failures other than Metzli and they couldn’t if they didn’t know the full story. Lifting her head, she glanced in the other’s direction, knowing that she should say something. The whole point of this was to learn how to control the spirit. Metzli needed ammo. This wouldn’t work otherwise. “I…” Leticia steeled her nerves, forcing herself to speak. “I killed someone. Not as the spirit but as me.” 

-

Well, Leticia wasn’t wrong in her statement. She’d even been told to not talk too much, and yet she wasn’t even the one who broke the silence. The two were supposed to be meditating, and yet Metzli had failed to do so. They worried the inside of their cheek and straightened their posture even further—if that was actually possible. Metzli always had awkwardly rigid posture, not leaving any room for the smallest sign of a slump.

“You are right.” Metzli began to rock back and forth, their fingers twirling in a rogue curl. A common stim for them when they were feeling something negative. “If I upset you more, I am sorry.” Their voice was robotic, albeit slightly shaky. “Maybe it is good if I did, though. Does that have sense?” They looked toward the sky, continuing to twist their hair repeatedly as they listened to what Leticia had to say. 

“You…killed someone? Did the spirit come out after?” Metzli tilted their head curiously, eyes wide but devoid of any real emotion. Killing was a normal part of their life. Hell, they often enjoyed committing the act. Especially when the victim had been a forger. Metzli tried to recall their first kill—it had been a neighbor, and they had no control. How did they feel after? What were they denied when they sought comfort? That was an easy answer. 

“You have guilt, yes? Are you…okay?”

-

Glancing at Metzli, Leticia found herself frowning now. The anger she had felt... she knew it should be directed inward. Her own actions upset her, there was no reason to snap at the very people who were trying to help her. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize.” Leticia swallowed further self-deprivation. “I should be apologizing to you. You’re helping.” 

Slipping into a slouched posture, Leticia shook her head. The balam had been so loud in the moments before and then silent after. “She abandoned me.” She could still feel the spirit ever present in her mind, but Leticia didn’t dare call her forward. “That’s not right, it’s not fair... I wasn’t alone. I was with a friend. He doesn’t know what I am. It was for the best.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed at her temples, trying to make sense of what happened. In the aftermath of what happened, she had felt empty. Overwhelmingly empty. Like a void had opened in her chest and pulled all meaning out of her previous emotions.  

Had the numbness protected her from transforming?  

Are you okay? 

They were such simple words, and at first, Leticia looked at Metzli and offered a thin smile. Forced and sloppy and unlike anything she had tried to fake before. Her bottom lip trembled first and she quickly looked away, looking upward, trying to breathe through the sudden burst of emotion. “I should be. He was going to kill us,” she rationalized. “I’m alive and he’s dead. I’m fine.” 

-

Taking a life wasn’t supposed to be easy. There were memories, a personality, a whole person that was erased from the world, unable to be brought back. Stories untold and stories never to be created, simply gone. There was an insurmountable weight to a death, and Metzli hadn’t felt it since they began to fulfill the purposes Eloy had given them. And yet…their heart bended for Leticia in that moment. 

“When I kill for the first time, I feel same like you.” Metzli’s breath hitched, and they drummed their fingers on their thigh as they attempted to string their thoughts together into proper sentences. “I was changed. Could not…” Their brows furrowed, “Could not control my hunger. Three people die. And it hurt. I did bad thing. I hurt them. But it-it hurt. Like maybe…” Metzli paused, massaging what was left of their arm to soothe their anxieties. “…I was not self anymore.” 

Lives ended, tales no longer able to be written, stopped abruptly by a hand they recognized. How was that fair? Metzli thought about that for weeks after, guilty over the fact that their story continued. They felt none of that anymore. Killing was second nature to them at that point. “You are not bad because you did bad thing, Leticia.” Finally, Metzli looked toward their companion, expression somber and warm. Kind. “Bad thing hurts because you are good. Is good thing you feel this way. You are not monster.” Not like Metzli. She was lucky to feel such guilt. They envied her in a way. Not that they’d let on to that fact. 

-

Leticia fell silent once more. Feeling guilty for entirely new reasons now. She had never felt this way before. Most of her adult life had been a carefully polished persona that had been meant for the stage. She had always had guidance for how she was supposed to react, a team that would hold her up when things had gotten out of hand. Wicked’s Rest was the first place where she could breathe and simply exist as herself. But in the same freedom she had found here, she had made a devastating choice. 

Metzli managed to encompass everything that Leticia felt in a few short sentences. Looking toward her newfound friend, she managed a sad smile. Understanding. “I’ve had moments where I felt out of control.” she confessed. “But never like this.” Not even when she was fleeing the stage when the balam had been pulled out by the flashing lights and excitement. “I’ve never felt further from the person I want to be than I do now.” 

Their words directly challenged every thought that had been haunting their mind. Reminiscent of the very words that Leticia had shared with Nora. They weren’t monsters for existing as they did. But she had been quick to weaponize that word against herself in the moments immediately after. She wiped under her eyes and took in an unsteady breath. “Sorry,” she choked out. “You don’t have to answer… but when did you feel like you again?” Did guilt ever turn into acceptance? Or was numbness the future she was wandering toward? 

-

“Control is only something we have for self. And there are times when things have do not give enough control that we cannot control if outcome is positive. You will do wrong because of this. And…” Metzli’s gaze became distant, focused on the ground in front of them as they allowed their mind to tumble off their tongue. No thinking to create a barricade, just thought becoming sound. “You will not always be right. You will not always be wrong. The only thing that is always right is to keep learning. Let go of idea of control. You will not have it if you force it. It comes with breath.” They inhaled slowly, a small demonstration. “You are blind by fear and search.” 

That was the funny part about all of this. Leticia was looking so hard for control that she was losing it in the array of desperation. The only thing that would vindicate her would be to sacrifice her pride and not look for control. Accept that she can only exist and react, and be grateful that she did something good in the process of something that seemed so heinous. In their world, killing was a natural part. Fighting against it would only lead to uncontrollable anguish, and wasn’t Leticia looking for control? She would only find herself again if she would allow herself to take a breath and release the fog. She was still there.

“I…I never feel like me, but that is…that is different. Master control me for a hundred-thirty years. Only feel what he wanted me to. He made me…” Metzli closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. “Monster. Could not breathe. Could-could not have control. Ever. He tell me to bite, I bite. He tell me to kill, I kill. But…but no more. I have control. I breathe.” Another breath, brows creased together with an air of relief. They were free. “Our world is not like humans. People want to kill us and people will die. We stand between people we love and people who hate. All we can do is react.”

-

They were providing Leticia the guidance she needed so desperately, but each word hurt. The life she had lived up until Wicked’s Rest had demanded perfection. Her mother had been the first one to remind her on her way to school that she needed to have control over her emotions as to not lose control in public. And her father had always been the one to encourage her to exist as a kid. Her life had been balanced until she left them behind for the stage. Between the workload she took on and the mounting pressures to do more, the control over her life had become so tight that she could barely breathe. 

Breathing in as Metzli did, Leticia found her breath shallow and uneven. Still giving way to all the emotion she had been drowning in. “I was never allowed that,” she admitted, not looking at Metzli this time. “There was no option other than perfect.” And so, that’s what she was. Thirty years of being exactly who she was supposed to be and acting the way she was told. But she had as much to gain from it as those around her. And she enjoyed being liked. Even if most of her life was seen through rose-colored glasses, Leticia didn’t hate that part of her life. “I liked it, you know? People liked me when I was like that.” And that, perhaps, was closer to the problem that Leticia refused to address. 

Inhaling deeply again, she tried to mimic what Metzli had done earlier on her own this time. Listening to their story as she practiced breathing. “It’s…” Her breathing hitched again and Leticia closed her eyes tightly. “It’s never going to be the same, is it?” She was still tightly holding onto that idea that she knew was impossible, the dream that she’d just open her eyes after all this breathing and magically be that person she had been before the alley. And before she knew what Emilio was. “We can’t always be perfect.” Metzli had given her bite-sized pieces but Leticia still had difficulty swallowing them. “I always understood why other people killed,” she finally said. “It’s just not something I ever saw for myself.” 

-

The more Leticia spoke, the easier it was to understand. People were so complex and had so much depth that it was often the way it all tangled together that made Metzli unable to read. They constantly tripped and fell in the process of running through what made a person. If it weren’t for the way Leticia found her voice, using it as an art to paint a picture vivid enough for Metzli to critique. It started out muddy and chaotic, soon taking shape with defined lines and blended shadows. Each shade growing darker until something akin to what was on display at the gallery lay before them.

“No, it will never be the same.” Metzli replied, opening and closing their hand in front of them. They stared at each crease, at each scar that made themselves permanent residents. No, nothing could be the same. Currents were meant to move along, ebbing and flowing in response to nature and its energies. Metzli knew this to be a bittersweet reality. As someone who hated change, they knew it was inevitable. Sure, they’d have a fit, but then it would pass. They wanted to promise that to Leticia. She didn’t need to fear so much. “We do not know future, but we do know we have choices. Sometimes they will be painful to make, but we have to look at what these choices mean. You protected a friend. You kept them safe.”

Good or bad, the ability to have a choice was there, and it was futile to get caught in the what-ifs. Because regardless, that was the experience of living, of being a person. Metzli looked at Leticia, eyes sincere, “What you choose shows what you stand up for–shows what-what you are against. And this one says you stand against letting your friend die. Take this and stand tall. Stand…firm. Not many people have power inside to-to…to protest death without curling into something weak.” Metzli paused, blinking to themself for rambling so much. They just wanted to fix whatever it was that bended Leticia’s heart the same way theirs did all those decades ago. “Give apology. Not very good at this, but I want to help.”

-

The heavy feeling in her chest that pulled her body into a slumping position next to Metzli, Leticia’s eyes on the ground as her hands found their way to different objects. Grass and sticks and dirt, anything that felt like something other than the grime she felt crawling on her skin. How did she pull herself up from this? How could she look at herself in the mirror and say that the self-inflicted punishment she had been so eager to carry out on herself had been more than enough and she could stop.  

Or was forcing this self-acceptance another form of torture, telling herself that it was selfish to keep wallowing in emotions that everyone told her didn’t need to be pushing down on her shoulders? They had all been kinder with their words, but every action that Leticia took, and the action she didn’t, felt like another wrong she was committing against the people around her. That vampire could have very well been a younger version of the friend who sat down next to her now, they could have turned their life around, they could have been different. And all those possibilities had been snuffed out at her own hand. And then she emptied her secrets into the night air as if that confession would clear her mind of the emotions she had been drowning in.  

“You’re very wise,” Leticia offered, running a finger under her eye before forcing herself to sit up straight again. Every word that Metzli had spoken felt right. If she had watched Emilio die, she would have been hurting in an entirely different way, and her inaction would have likely cost more people their lives. There was no leaving that alley feeling good about herself. But there was no reason to give up her entire future based on a singular moment. “I would have hated myself no matter what I did in that alley. Standing to the side would have been...” worse. By any stretch of the imagination. But the word died in her throat as she inhaled deeply. The anger she had directed toward herself was finally untangling. The grief, however, remained. “I don’t make it easy,” Leticia offered with a wry smile. “But you are helping. A lot. I...” Her expression fell as she shook her head. “I don’t know what I need anymore. Feels like I don’t know anything at all.” 

-

Not many had the strength to sit with their guilt and mull over decisions, or the what-ifs. Stand as the terrors followed and haunted, with no end in sight. More than anyone though, Metzli understood this, and they extended themself to Leticia so she wouldn’t have to weather everything alone and under an iron first, the way they were forced to. For the vampire, they were forged in the furnace of their twisted youth, smelted with rage and hatred, all pity ruined by a lifetime of pain. This didn’t have to be the case for Leticia, and Metzli was determined to make that so. 

“Grief will stay and that is okay. It is…” A pause and a wrinkle of thought, “It is your heart saying it works. That you have empathy and understand the…the…” The English word was eluding Metzli, so they hoped Leticia would understand their Spanish. “La gravedad of what happen.” They offered a hint of a smile to their new friend, happy to see that despite them not fixing everything, they still managed to help. All their experience with pain and death was paying off. 

“What you need is time and patience. And maybe some kindness.” Rising to their feet, Metzli walked over to where Leticia was sitting and took her hand in theirs. They wasted no time in pulling her up and into them. If they had, they likely would have backed out. Metzli knew their new friend needed the comfort though, so they persisted. “We don’t know everything all the time, and this is okay. Let heart grieve and take moments as they come.” Metzli gave Leticia one firm and final squeeze, pulling away as they looked at the sky to avoid eye contact. “This is all you can do. Let go of control so you can find it again.”

-

Metzli had been all but a stranger up until this point, and Leticia couldn’t help but wonder why it had been so easy to tell them everything so quickly. But she could have been happier with the decision she had made. They understood her, and not only that, they extended not just advice but kindness. Kindness that Leticia hadn’t given herself. And this wasn’t even why she had shown up. This had been about practicing her control, and the full lesson was that she needed to loosen that grip and allow herself to breathe. 

Leticia looked at her hands, stretched her fingers and wondered if she could do that. She would try. And hopefully, trying would be enough. “It sounds much better the way you put it,” she replied gently, a faint smile finally forming at the corner of her lips. It sounded less like she had failed, and more like she was still herself. That she might not be perfectly the same, but she didn’t have to be the broken thing she imagined. She didn’t have to be bad. Remorse was the proof she was still herself.

Pulled to her feet, Leticia didn’t have a chance to think before she was wrapped up Metzli’s arm. “Damn it,” she whispered before sniffling. “I thought I was done.” But she held her breath and buried her head in Metzli’s shoulder. Letting herself to accept the the physical comfort that had been offered. They pulled away and Leticia stayed close by. “Thank you. And… I promise I’m not always like this. I didn’t mean to drop all of this on you.” But they had helped in the way intended. Maybe this control thing was the key to the balam as well. Loosening her grip so she could regain it. The road forward wasn’t an easy one, but it was clearer now. “It’s not the same as others but.. if I can ever return the favor — I owe you one.” 

-

Metzli chuckled, the sound jarring and foreign coming from them. They shook their head and took a deep breath, finally making eye contact with Leticia. “I have done many bad things and I am trying to be good now. No repayment. Please.” There was a gentle smile on Metzli’s face as they bowed their head, their chest warm with joy at successfully helping Leticia. 

In spite of Eloy’s icy grip, it held no candle to Metzli’s true nature. That brightened their smile further, a rare sight for anyone to behold. “Lesson one is over then, yes? It can be like this sometimes, but maybe not always. That would mean lessons are not working.”

-

“Alright, nothing owed,” Leticia agreed. But perhaps friends. But saying it felt like a formality that neither of them needed. It was a lot shared, and more vulnerability than Leticia was used to having with someone upon meeting them in person for the first time. But taking the chance on revealing herself to a stranger online had proven to be one of the best choices she had made thus far. 

“I’d say lesson one was a rounding success.” She returned the smile, feeling more like the person she had been in the weeks before. The relief that her father would have told her confession would have blessed her with. “Maybe next time is just meditating?” It might be nice, she thought, to give it a proper chance. And to see Metzli again. 

[lushaletta]

that cursed, darned b-word / remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: none

summary: remus seems to have changed a lot over the summer, and so have your feelings for him.

a/n: yay i finally wrote marauders?? this might seem a lil rushed but that’s because it totally was… but yk i love me some lupin so i had to post it! i def plan to write more marauders content so that’s stellar. anyway, enjoyy!

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Alright, this was getting out of hand.

How could Remus Lupin exit the Hogwarts Express on the first day of term, looking like that? It was preposterous, truly. You hadn’t seen him the whole break, and he had the nerve to get even more bloody attractive?

Your jaw dropped, he’d grown taller. His hair was longer. Had his cheekbones become more defined? You couldn’t ignore the obvious; his body was chiseled to perfection. It was apparent in the way his uniform was snug around his torso.

And that boy dared to shoot you a wink and that killer smile.

“Y/N!” he shouted, walking towards you. As he pulled you into a tight embrace, you inhaled his scent. Old books. Wood. Hot cocoa. “I’ve missed you, you know?”

Yeah. Of course, you knew. He’d been writing to you all summer, declaring how much he missed your late nights spent together in the common room, reading cheesy romances while he engaged himself with encyclopedias and research guides.

And you wrote back, declaring the very same thing.

“I think I missed you more. But that’s just a wild guess,” you said, and he could definitely feel your smile while you talked, considering how wide it was.

He couldn’t conceal his own smile. “Well, your guess is wrong, since I 100% missed you more.”

As much as you didn’t want him to, he pulled away. Because breathing is nice. Maybe not as nice as being enveloped in his hugs, but still nice.

You looked at him, eyes raking over his figure. With a cross of your arms and an overdone scoff, “Do my eyes deceive me, or have you gotten… more handsome?”

“I didn’t think that was possible,” he replied smoothly.

You raised your eyebrows inquisitively. “Have you been practicing these witty responses in the mirror?”

“Perhaps. What’s it to you?” he challenged.

“Oh, it’s everything,” you snorted. “Little Moony practices his comebacks in the mirror. Wait, no! Oh my god, do you practice with James and Sirius?”

And speak of the devil, the familiar image of the two boys behind Remus became clearer as they inched nearer, bookbags slung over their shoulders and cheeks dimpled.

“Alright, alright, quit the flirting. We’ve seen it all before,” James remarked, exchanging knowing glances with Sirius.

“Yeah, mate. We haven’t even set foot inside Hogwarts and you’re already all over the poor girl.”

You wouldn’t exactly consider yourself poor. Not when you’re with your best friends and Remus.

Not that he wasn’t a best friend. Because he totally was.

“—boyfriend,” you heard someone say. Admittedly, you weren’t quite paying attention anymore.

“Boyfriend? What about boyfriends?” you asked, stupidly. “Remus is not my boyfriend!” You gave them a bewildered frown.

Sirius seemed amused. “No. What? No one was saying that. I was telling my dear friends that Marlene got into a relationship. You should know that, because dear friends listen when their dear friend is talking.”

The embarassment hit you all at once. Yikes, you really did associate Remus with that word. That cursed, darned B-word.

“Oh,” you said timidly.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry to break it to you,” he replied with the wave of his hand; dismissing the matter.

But oh-so-cruel James just had to bring it up again. “It’s sweet that your mind went there, though,” he added. “What do you think about that, Moons?”

You shot Remus a look that he knew all too well. A look that said, ‘please don’t say anything embarassing’.

And after years, he picked up on this immediately. “No comment. This is a matter not involving me,” he said, a teasing tone entwined in his voice.

“How anti-climactic,” James sighed.

Before long, the group of you spilled inside the Great Hall, ready to devour the annual welcoming feast; one of the best of the year.

You and Remus sat beside each other, of course. His hand ran up and down your thigh as he ate, touch that made your heart race and breath hitch. Not because you weren’t used to it, but because after what happened earlier, you felt as if it were different.

And he must’ve noticed this, since he halted his movements and looked at you. A non-verbal question.

The answer was yes. It was always yes. So he continued.

You never felt the need to deny Remus anything, and that wouldn’t start now. Even if you saw him as more than he probably saw you.

You were thinking so much, and with excited, loud chatter from old and new students alike, the table wasn’t a feasible place to do all your thinking. You got up hastily, planning to settle into your bed much earlier than everyone else.

But he followed you.

Sitting on the steps of the staircase, head in hands and loud sighs escaping your lips every so often. “Hey,” he said.

You didn’t even notice that he was there. “Hey.”

“Why’d you run off?” asked Remus tenderly.

You simply shrugged, fearing that your voice would betray you if you spoke and make you say things you didn’t want to say.

“You can tell me, you know,” he pressed.

And you told him. You couldn’t not tell him, not when he had that caring look in his eyes or half-smile that you loved so much. So you let the words pour out of your mouth before you had the chance to think otherwise. “We’re friends, right?” He nodded. Ouch. “But, like, I don’t want to be that.” Upon seeing the horrified look on his face, “No! I mean, I want to be, like, more. ‘Cause, you’re like.. nice.”

The amused grin that snuck its way onto his face did not comfort you. “You want to be… more than friends?” he asked, still smiling.

Embarrassment had overtaken you, so you only nodded in response.

“Well,” he began. “Lucky you, because I’d quite like that as well.”

[justanotherpitstop11]

The weekend of firsts

Okay, so I saw an interview with Checo today and got inspired, so I decided to write another fic, hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Checo Perez x Reader

Warnings: it's long, it's fluff, mentions of crash

English is still not my first language so please be kind. 🥺

-

The 2020 Sakhir GP was everything, but normal. First of all, it was a double header that weekend, which equaled double work, double effort, so you were exhausted just thinking of it.

You tried to do your best and perform on the highest level as the presenter of your local sports channel, but the first challenge came, when that horrible crash happened with Grosjean. The whole track went silent for such a long time, it felt like forever. You were absolutely terrified and shocked, but you had to keep it together because you had a job to do. Fortunately Grosjean was fine, but everyone knew that it was a miracle that he survived at all.

During the red flag you met some of the drivers, but this time you didn't ask anything, just wandering around with your cameraman shooting some scenes for your report and trying to forget what happened just minutes before.

You also met him during your walk, but you two just sadly waved at each other from afar. You had admit that you started to like him more than the rest of the grid. You liked all the drivers of course, but he was just...different. He always had something nice to say to you, even if he doesn't really like the media stuff, and also stayed there with you for a few more minutes when he could ask some questions about you, or just to know how are you doing.

That's one of the reasons why you were devastated when you heard the news that he will lose his seat for next year at Racing Point and probably in Formula 1 too. You were angry about it - more than you should have - but you couldn't do anything just to try cheer him up (and yourself) a little bit, most of the time with horrible jokes, which he actually laughed at everytime, so you could be satisfied with yourself.

This time however there was nothing to laugh about. The race had a restart, which was going well, but Checo had a DNF so it was just going downhill from that point. He arrived at the media pen soon after he got out of the car, and for your surprise he was directly heading towards you, ignoring all the bigger channels' journalists, which apparently surprised them too. You nudged your cameraman, cleared your throat to ask your questions, but as soon as you saw how mad and dissapointed he was, you just wanted to hug him and tell him, that everything's gonna be okay. But that would be very unprofessional of course.

"Checo, so sorry for what happened, but I have to ask, how do you feel right now?"

"Well, obviously it's really unfortunate, not just for me, but for the whole team."

"Do you think you could've finish on the podium today, if you were able to continue?"

"Yeah, definitely, we had the pace the whole weekend, so I think the podium was possible for me, even a win too."

You were smiling at him for the whole time to calm his nerves a little bit, and it worked, because his features softened a little bit, at least what you saw with a mask on his face. You just saw his eyes and god they're beautiful.

"Will you try again next week and go for the win?"

"Do you want me to?" He leaned onto the barrier between the two of you and looked directly in your eyes.

What?

"Well... of course it would be an exciting race if you could fight for the win."

"I can do that if you promise you will root for me."

What is he doing? He probably got hit on the head.

"I'm just rooting for an exciting and safe race, and we will see what happens. Anyway, good luck for tomorrow."

"Thank you Y/N."

This is the first time you are grateful for the mask because you blushing like hell. He never said anything like this before, it could be the adrenaline, or maybe he just tried to cover his anger, you don't want to see anything into this.

-

After last weeks' events you were exhausted, but also can't stop thinking about what Checo said to you. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't liked that, in fact you would be more than happy to play along if there were no cameras. However, you didn't have time for these kind of thoughts during the day, because it was really busy with all the coverage from the track and the interviews.

You were of course rooting for Checo in secret, hoping that he will finally get his maiden win, because you wanted to see him happy and smile again and also you wanted RP to regret letting him go. Things were already going wrong in the first lap of the race, which you couldn't believe. Checo got kicked out by Charles and had to box to change his front wing which dropped him to the last place of the grid. You were already thinking about plans to comfort him after the race (including some inappropriate thoughts, but you reminded yourself that you needed your job), but the next thing you know he was going through the grid like a rocket and soon he was in 3rd place.

What happened at Mercedes was a huge mess, and you felt for them, especially for George, but this fuck up meant that Checo was leading the race. Just the thought of the fact that he can actually win this race blew up your mind, but it became more and more possible with every lap and you started to actually root for him, screaming and jumping up and down as you watched him driving in front of everyone.

Finally there was the chequered flag and he crossed the line, winning the Sakhir GP with team that abandoned him. You heard him crying over the radio and you couldn't help yourself but cry too, tears coming down your cheeks, you were so happy and proud of him. You wanted to go to the podium ceremony to hug and kiss him, because yeah... that's what you really wanted deep inside of you, but unfortunately you had a job to do.

You were more than excited to see him arriving at the media pen as the winner, and he didn't dissapoint you, he was almost running towards you, you could tell he was over the moon.

"Checo, congratulation to you, what a race! You did an amazing job today, falling back to P18 and now you standing here as the driver of the day."

"Yeah it was tough at the beginning, I thought I'm out of this race and have no chance to win or even finish on the podium."

"I can see it in your eyes that you're obviously really happy, but I expected more, maybe a little victory dance or something."

He started to laugh at your words, which made your heart melt.

"Actually, I still can't believe that I won, it feels like a dream, maybe I am in fact dreaming."

"No, you're not, if I could pinch you, I would do that to make you believe."

Suddenly he held out his arm to you.

"Please do it, so I can believe."

You were a little surprised at his action, but you grabbed his hand and pinched him hard. You cannot describe how good it was to touch him, but you had to stay focused.

"So? Is it okay now?"

"It is, thank you, glad you're really here and not just in my dreams." Oh no, he didn't. "Hope you were rooting for me." Yes. "Maybe you're my lucky charm."

"...Well, we will find out that on the next race. Congratulations again, you really deserved it. Enjoy your party tonight."

"Thank you, I will." He winked at you and he didn't go away to give his next interview, which was odd. Instead, he moved closer and started to talk to you.

"I was thinking, maybe you could join me tonight. I'm really grateful for you, because you always cheered me up even when things went really bad and I just want to thank you in some kind of way."

"Checo you're really kind, but there's no need to thank me, I'm just doing my job."

You obviously doing more than your job when it comes to him.

"Is it your job to comfort me, and look at me the way you do?"

Shit.

"Y/N, I can see how you look at me, and if I see that right, then I just wanted to tell you that I feel the same. So I would be really happy if you could be by my side tonight."

Oh my god.

"Checo, I'm... Look. The truth is that yeah, I really enjoyed every second of our little interactions, and what you said today and yesterday it made me feel good. I loved it honestly. I would gladly go out with you tonight, but it would be really suspicious, especially after those comments of yours and I don't wanna lose my job."

"I totally understand you, and I don't wanna get you in trouble. But you know me enough to know that I won't give up on this. I want to celebrate and share my happiness with you, and if it means that we have to do it in secret, I don't mind it. In fact maybe that would be much better."

You just stared at him, not a single idea what to answer. You wanted this too. You longed for his company, and even for more than that, if you want to be honest. Don't know when you started feeling like this for him, but you did.

"I will not leave until you say something and that will be suspicious."

Oh fuck, he's right you were talking for too long, the other journalists already looking at you questioningly.

"Okay, fine. I will send you my number, and call me tomorrow. I guess we need to find a solution for this."

You acted like you were forced to agree, but in reality, you wanted to kiss him right now, in front of everyone. What a headline that would be.

"You don't know how happy I am right now." His eyes were smiling at you.

"Believe me, I can imagine." You smiled back to him.

"Talk to you tomorrow then. I can't wait." And with that he took off to give the other reporters what they want.

You started to feel butterflies in your stomach, and you knew immediately you were in big trouble indeed.

[jarofstyles]

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

-

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

[neoheros]

nanami kento isn’t the type of guy who so easily loses his cool.

he’s calm, collected, and more often than not, each decision and choice he’s made has come from a good amount of thinking and revisiting, so it’s not really a surprise to anyone when he’s introduced as the guy you come to for answers.

but of course, you’ve never really mixed well with his tendency to stay calm and collected, not when you’re the glaring opposite of it.

it’s a cold night at a bar, and nanami wouldn’t usually be seen at a place like this in usual circumstances, but you asked him to be there, and he’s never really had the nerve to say no to you.

he’s unsure how the night’s going, but he’s flushed and tired, and the only thing that he’s really looking forward to doing now is asking you if you need a ride home.

you make easy conversation, easy enough that he doesn’t feel too obligated to respond, easy enough to get him wanting to smile, and easy enough to not want the evening to be over yet.

(maybe next time, he’d ask you to a place a bit quieter. someplace with just the two of you.)

and the night really did seem to be going well, somewhere between the awkward long pauses and the nervous sips of water, it was starting to pull into a nice evening.

but when a guy comes close to you, hitting on you, completely ignoring nanami, completely ignoring your constant declines, it’s when you decide that tonight is a total trainwreck.

“you shouldn’t ignore me.” the guy tells you, and you’re too unbothered to ask for his name or look him in the eye.

you tilt your head, “i shouldn’t?”

and he throws an arm over your shoulder, uncomfortably close to you, “i’m the kind of guy you have to get to know to love.”

nanami, watching with easy eyes, decides this is when he cuts in. he was trying hard to let you handle this earlier, his fist tightening against his seat the second he even approached you, but now — this is where he draws the line.

he stands up, watching as you push the guy off of you, and you take a step back.

he looks at you briefly, his voice calm, “you should make a call about a guy with a broken jaw.”

“there’s a guy with a broken jaw?” you ask, your eyes still following the random guy that’s too drunk to even make sense of the situation.

nanami nods, taking a step forward, “there’s about to be.”

and with his sleeves rolled back, a glare sitting on his eyes, his fist hits the guy’s face as quickly as he lifts it.

you’ve never seen nanami fight without his blade before, but seeing as how this random guy is now clutching his bruised cheek on the floor, you thank the heavens that you weren’t at the receiving end of it.

“you should learn about boundaries.” nanami keeps his voice still, almost like the weight he put behind his fist didn’t affect him at all, and he turns back to look at you, readjusting his tie.

you blink, “i want to ask if you’re okay but i feel like i’d be asking the wrong guy.”

“did i go too far?” he looks at you, eyebrows slightly furrowing, and you don’t fail to notice the way he stretches his hand out to soothe the slight stinging.

you eye his red fist, snorting, “a bit.”

and seeing your smile, the guy still clutching his (bleeding) face on the floor, he walks back to you with a slight shrug.

nanami nods, “oh, sorry.”

but you don’t miss the way his lips threaten to turn, and you link your arm with his as you both prepare to leave.

you smile, “you still look proud, nanami.”

nanami’s never been one to lose his cool, not when he’s quite literally known for being calm and collected — but you — well, apparently you’ve made him confused enough to make him lose everything as easily as you make him regain it.

you confuse him, and that’s apparently enough to have him sucker punching a random guy at a bar.

his hand is sore, and also, he thinks he’s in love with you.

[iamcalmdammit]

Rehab || [Eddie Diaz x reader]

(Based on this request. Anon, if you wanted something entirely different, I'm sorry. And I'm also sorry for presenting... this. I'm not happy at all. It's bad. And I couldn't make Eddie's dad an alcoholic. I didn't want to do this to him.)

Eddie noticed how your facial expression changed as your phone call progressed. Since he only heard your side of the conversation, he didn't know what this was all about, but he guessed it was something serious. Then you finally said goodbye and ended the call, only to sink on the couch a second later and bury your face into your palms.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly as he crouched in front of you.

“My dad. He was out drinking in some bar, passed out, and had to be taken to the hospital.” While your voice was shaking, you weren’t on the verge of crying. He could tell that if anything, you were angry. “I need to call my mom. She will start defending him again, like she always does. I wish she would finally stop ignoring this problem.”

Letting out a sigh, he took your hands and gently kissed them. “I’ll ask Buck if he could keep an eye on Chris while we’re there. Just give me a minute.”

You nodded, so he stood up and called Buck, asking for his help without going into the details. Just as he expected, he agreed, which is why Eddie quickly explained his son that you had to leave for a few hours. He was glad his dad didn’t have such issues, especially with the physical distance between them. He had found a new family here in L.A. and moving back to his biological family wouldn’t be easy.

Meanwhile you got ready to leave as well, and were waiting by the door when he stepped into the living room. “You don’t have to come with me,” you told him quietly.

“I insist. Let’s go.”

The car ride to the hospital was quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. There were so many moments when Eddie wanted to say something, but each time he convinced himself that he should let you make the first step. If you wanted to talk about it, you would eventually. So he waited patiently, only looking over at you every once in a while.

It was a tough situation. He knew how badly you wanted to help your dad, but because your mother ignored the problem, it wasn’t an easy task. Every time you visited them with brochures for fancy rehab clinics, your mom immediately started yelling at you for being inconsiderate. Why she felt that way, even Eddie didn’t understand.

You only spoke up when he stopped the car in the parking lot. “I can’t let my mom ignore this anymore. But if things get out of hand, please, drag me out of there,” you asked him.

“I will, I promise. But you’re not alone. We’re going to talk to her as a team, okay? I’m here to help you,” he assured you with a small, sad smile.

Nodding, you got out of the car and the two of you went inside hand in hand. Your fingers were wrapped tightly around his hand and he could tell you were terrified of what you might hear in there. According to you, the hospital staff didn’t say much about your father’s condition. It could be anything. He could be totally fine, just drunk as hell, or maybe he was between life and death. Uncertainty sure wasn’t kind to your nerves so he couldn’t blame you for your anxiety.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re here,” a familiar voice said when you reached the waiting room.

Eddie let go of your hand so you could hug your mom then waited for his turn. “Did the doctors tell you anything?” he asked once he stepped back and wrapped an arm around you.

“He’s unconscious. Apparently, he fell and hit his head pretty hard. They don’t know if there’s any permanent damage yet.”

You shook your head at this. “You can’t keep telling yourself that everything is okay with him.”

“We don’t know if alcohol had anything to do with it,” she said defensively.

“Come on, Mom, it’s obvious. He was at a bar, he drank too much, and then he probably lost his balance or tripped in something, I don’t know. The point is that we can’t ignore this anymore. He needs to go to a rehab center once he’s out of here,” you explained angrily.

Eddie cleared his throat as he leaned down a bit. “Calm down.”

“I won’t calm down!”

“Hey, listen, I’m on your side, but—”

“Eddie, you know I like you, but stay out of this. This is between me and my daughter,” your mother told him calmly.

It was true from her point of view. It was a family issue that the two of you had to handle. But from your point of view, it was a little different. He’d already told you in the car—you were a team. And maybe it was the worst possible timing to say it, but he had to do it if he wanted to make your mother understand why he wants to have a say in this.

After glancing down at you for a second, he took a deep breath and said, “Well, I’m planning to be a part of your family, so I won’t back down. You need to listen to her because she only wants what’s the best for her father. And she’s right, she needs her dad to be sober on the day of our wedding.”

“Your wedding? Since when are you two talking about weddings?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

Letting out an annoyed groan, you raised your hand with the ring on it. “Since yesterday.”

“And you didn’t call me right away?”

“My engagement is not the point. The point is that Eddie is right. I need my father to be okay. I need him to stay sober. It’s hard to admit that he’s addicted, but he is. Accept it, Mom,” you explained.

Eddie watched your mom worriedly. Her face was pale, her breathing changed. Was she about to have a panic attack? He knew the symptoms way too well by now. But she soon regained control over her emotions and cleared her throat. “We can’t force him. But fine, I’ll talk to him when he wakes up. Only because my baby is getting married. I’m sure he would want to be there too.”

“Thank you,” you and Eddie said in unison.

[theweasleysredhair]

I Wanna Be Yours [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 6025

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Love is complicated. Especially when the boy you love likes someone else. Or does he? [Based on the film Some Kind of Wonderful].

WARNING: brief mentions of alcohol and drinking

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @user12345321 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @andineversawyoucoming | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i am again naming my fics after arctic monkeys’ songs - fun fact this one is named after my favourite one of theirs, i’m considering having it for my wedding song bc it cute af

also yes i watched some kind of wonderful whilst writing this and cried. it’s not even a sad fic, i’m just emotional smh

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“I know. I know, Freddie,” you replied, your voice quiet as you pressed your lips together, reaching out to grab his hands in yours, “It’s okay. It is, really. I just... I need to be alone.”

“But I- I just... it’s his loss, just so you know!” He pleaded, shaking his head at you, and swore under his breath at the sight of one of his closest friends in tears over his brother, “Merlin, he shouldn’t have given that to her- I shouldn’t have said anything-“

And that’s where your problem had started. Because a few weeks ago, you were, as you claimed, fine. Well, you had a few essays due and were having trouble finding the textbooks to help you write them, but that was all really.

How you wished you could steal a time turner and go back in time.

And yes, when this all started you knew that George had his heart taken by someone else. It’s not his fault, not really, that his whole plan, scheme, escapade turned into something that would completely crush your heart.

Affairs of the heart. That’s where this started. Because before a few days ago, you were unaware of your own feelings. Before a few days ago, you were unaware of any feelings towards him at all.

But that fateful moment - the one where you were sat with George in front of the fireplace, a half-drank bottle of firewhisky sitting between you, laughing and joking - was the one that changed everything.

You hadn’t even realised yourself, until Fred pointed it out to you the morning after, when he’d found you curled up by George’s side, empty firewhisky bottle laying on the floor in front of the couch, George’s arm around your waist, your face buried into his chest.

In Fred’s defence, he thought you knew. He thought you’d be aware of your own feelings.

How was he supposed to know that you didn’t know you were in love with his twin?

_________~*~_________

“This is the year I reckon,” George announced to you as he collapsed onto the sofa beside you, throwing his legs over your thighs as he rested his back against the arm of the couch, his arms resting behind his neck, “She’s finally single, first time since second year. Now’s my chance!”

You popped a Bertie’s Every Flavour Bean into your mouth and closed the book you weren’t really paying attention to, before dropping it on the table in front of the couch, “And how long have you liked her again?”

George blinked at the way you raised an eyebrow at him and sat up a little, “Since I found out she was single again.” At your pointed look, he shot you a grin, “Nah, since before the summer. Point is, I reckon I could really like this girl.”

“Poor love, having you snivelling around her all the time. I wonder how she’ll cope,” you grinned back, throwing one of the jelly beans at his head.

“Well you seem to cope just fine,” he retorted, batting another jelly bean away from his head.

“That’s just because I’m desensitised to you by now.”

“Is that so?” George asked with a raised eyebrow, a grin etched onto his face as he sat up properly, leaning a little closer to you. You turned your head to face him, meeting his stare as you nodded, “Course, how else would I have put up with you so long?”

He leant further forward and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, “Willingly, because you love me, stupid.”

You nudged him, making him laugh as he went back to lying down comfortably, “Yeah, yeah.”

You watched a few first years clamber through the portrait hole, laughing to each other as they made their way through the common room, an absent-minded smile gracing your lips as you recalled being the same in your first year with your friends.

“How do you reckon I should ask her out?” George’s voice brought you away from your reminiscing as you looked over at him, “She deserves something amazing, something no other guy will have thought of for her.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing this would be the topic of conversation for the rest of the evening, but nevertheless gestured for him to continue on. “I wanna go all out if she’s gonna turn out to be everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl,” George finished, a dreamy, faraway look crossing his features.

Reaching into the box of jelly beans, you grabbed a handful and threw them at him, ignoring his indignant “hey!” as you replied pointedly, “Don’t go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs.”

Because truthfully, that was why a lot of guys were interested in Kiara. She was smart - being a Ravenclaw and all - surprisingly funny, and, as far as you knew, was really kind too. Not that this mattered to many of the boys in your year (and the years above and below), apparently, because she was also beautiful, with long, glossy brown hair, perfect doll-like features and, yes, long, lean legs.

“That’s not why I like her,” George insisted, grabbing one of the jelly beans that had fallen onto his lap and throwing it back at you, laughing as it hit you on the forehead. You playfully glared at him, rubbing your forehead in mock-hurt.

“Sure it’s not, stupid,” you replied, using his minor insult from before. “Ohhh, I’m the stupid one now, am I?” He scoffed, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t offended in the slightest, “Now you’re in for it.”

He moved his legs off you and poked your sides, knowing you were ticklish, making you laugh out and push him away, “George, stop!”

“Take it back then, love. Say I’m the smartest wizard you know,” he grinned, continuing his minor tickling assault, making you move away from him so abruptly that you fell off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, bringing him down on top of you.

“Ouch- never! You are stupid, stupid!” You laughed, laying on the floor as you tried to catch your breath, George’s hands either side of your head, holding his weight up above you.

Both of your laughter faded a little and you found yourself staring into his brown eyes, his face barely centimetres from your own. You could have almost sworn that he started moving closer - though maybe it was your imagination - before he rolled away and lay beside you on the floor, his hand brushing yours.

“You’ll help me right?” He asked after a moment. You turned your head to look at him, taking in his side profile as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I’ll help you what?”

“Get a date with her,” he said as if it were obvious, turning his head to meet your gaze. You shot him a smile, “You’re George Weasley. You could get a date with anyone you wanted.”

“Just not you, right?” He turned onto his side, resting on his elbow as he looked down at you. You shook your head with a laugh, “Yeah well, I don’t count. I’m not just anyone.”

The smile he gave you made your heart beat a little faster, “You’re right about that.”

***

“All I’m saying is, is it such a bad idea if you just, I don’t know, asked her out simply? By using words? I really don’t think you need to wax poetic, or write her a bloody song to ask her out,” you shook your head in despair at the nerve-wracked boy sat across from you in the Great Hall.

“I can’t just ask her out,” George replied in a horrified voice, “What if she thinks I’ve not put enough effort into it and rejects me?”

“Trust me, Georgie, if she’s going to reject you, it won’t be because of the way you asked her out, I can guarantee that. It’ll be because you’re annoying, or because you smell, or, and I can’t stress this enough, because of your below-average skills in potions,” you laughed at his unimpressed look, taking the opportunity to grab a slice of toast off his plate.

“You’re supposed to be my best friend, you know,” he grumbled, waving his fork at you. “Yes,” you replied, “And as your best friend, I say to just ask her out. Look, joking aside, you’re a great guy, George. She’d be lucky to have you.”

He nodded, smiling gratefully at you as he reached forward and grabbed your hand to give it a squeeze, “Okay, I’ll trust you on this one. I’ll just... ask her out. How difficult could it be?”

Turns out, extremely difficult. You felt second hand embarrassment as you watched George head over to the Ravenclaw table, to where Kiara was sitting, wincing as he nearly dropped a goblet of pumpkin juice over her.

“Who’re you watching?” A voice said from beside you, making you jump. Fred laughed as you rolled your eyes at him, before replying, “For your information, I’m watching your brother ask Kiara on a date.”

“Wait, he’s asking another girl on a date?” Fred frowned, his eyes darting from George, who was currently speaking to Kiara, his cheeks reddening as she touched his shoulder and laughed, to your confused expression as you looked up at the older twin. “Yes?” You replied, bemused, “Why?”

“Does it not... bother you?” He asked gently. You laughed, “Why would it?”

And as you watched Kiara throw her arms around George’s neck, his hands coming to hold her waist, you swallowed thickly, before shaking your head at the odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Why would it bother you?

You forced a smile onto your face as George made his way back to his original seat, a smug grin adorning his features. “Well?” You asked, rather redundantly as you had seen the whole thing yourself.

“She said yes,” he replied excitedly, picking up his fork and popping some bacon into his mouth. “I told you!” You grinned at him, though you pushed your own plate away, no longer hungry.

“Attaboy, Georgie!” Fred congratulated his twin, “When’s the date?”

“This Saturday, at The Three Broomsticks,” the younger twin replied. You zoned out of the chatter on the table about this newest revelation, feeling your heart plummet at George’s words, though you couldn’t place your finger on why.

George was your best friend, you should be happy for him... right?

***

Saturday arrived quicker than you wanted, after a week of tedious lessons, and a bombardment of questions over what George should do on his date.

You watched him pull out two different jumpers, holding each one up at a time and looking at you expectedly. Tilting your head to the side, you pointed to the red one, “Was always my favourite one.”

“Red it is,” he nodded, throwing the other jumper onto his bed as he held the red jumper out to you for you to hold. Without warning, he pulled the t shirt he was currently wearing off, leaving his toned torso on show as he dropped said t shirt onto the floor and held his hand out for the jumper.

You handed it to him, gulping a little as you forced yourself not to stare at his abs. It was no secret the George was good looking - you’d always known it - but knowing and seeing were two different things. Being a Beater had done tremendous things to his body, you noted.

“Do you reckon I should bring her flowers?” George asked you, looking at you through the reflection of his mirror as he messed his hair up a little.

“Couldn’t hurt,” you shrugged, sending him a half-hearted smile as you grabbed your wand, muttering ‘orchideous’ and handing him the bouquet that was produced.

He thanked you, before taking a deep breath, “Well, what do you reckon?”

The smile that spread across your face this time was genuine, a soft look in your eye as you replied, “You look great, Georgie. Now go get her!”

He shot you one last grin, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before heading out of his dorm, leaving you alone. You picked up the t shirt he’d dropped, folding it and placing it at the end of his bed, before grabbing the jumper he’d discarded.

You took a breath before deciding to put the jumper on, relishing in the smell of George’s aftershave as you pulled it over your head, before rolling up the sleeves and heading out of the dorm.

***

“How many dates has it been now, three? Four?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around yourself as you trudged through the thick snow of Hogsmeade, passing by a couple of cute shops.

“The Yule Ball will be the fifth.”

You froze at the mention of the Ball. Somehow you’d assumed you’d be going with George - you didn’t even think about the fact that he’d have a girlfriend he could take, “Oh! So you um, asked Kiara to the Ball then?”

“Last night,” George bit his lip as he smiled, “Can’t wait!”

Your stomach clenched and mind raced, eyebrows furrowing as you realised you now had just under a week and half to find a date to the Ball - if anyone was still available, that was. You thought about every single eligible boy you knew of, wondering if you had the courage to even ask any of them, before you were pulled from your thoughts by George’s voice.

“I wanna buy her something for Christmas, what do you reckon?” George asked, picking at a strand coming off his woollen hat before placing it back onto his head.

“I don’t really know the girl,” you said truthfully, forcing yourself to stop thinking about George and Kiara dancing and him holding her all night, “I assume you’d have better judgment.”

He nodded over to a small shop on your left, one that you’d passed by many times but never had the chance to look in.

“The jewellery shop?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to the door, “Let’s just have a look, yeah?”

The bell chimed as you stepped inside and you instantly became enamoured with the little shop, rows of glass cases showing off sparkly pieces of jewellery and adornments. Most, you noticed quickly, were much too expensive for you - and by default, much too expensive for George, too.

“Are you sure about something from in here?” You asked, staring down at a ring adorned with sapphires, “These are pretty pricey.”

“They might be, but she deserves it. Besides, gotta prove I’m better than all the guys that want to date her, right?” George replied from across the shop.

“Georgie,” you looked over at him with a pointed look, “I can promise you are better than all the other guys.”

“No harm in making sure.”

You gave up arguing, knowing he wouldn’t listen anyway, your eyes taking in the beautiful products, before your focus was taken by a rather stunning necklace. Stepping over to it for a closer look, you breathed out in shock at the price, but nevertheless knew you were in love with the chain, a little pendant surrounded by crystals displayed at the centre.

“What’ve you seen?” George spoke, suddenly standing behind you and leaning over your shoulder.

You pointed at the necklace, “Someday, I’m gonna buy that one.”

George glanced down at the look on your face and grinned to himself, “Someday, I’ll buy that one for you.” You turned to look at him, shaking your head in amusement, “You need to choose something for your girlfriend before you start promising me presents.”

“What’s the fun in that?” George laughed as you both left the shop.

You sat beside George on the couch later that night, resting your head on his shoulder as you shared a bottle of firewhisky between you.

“It was not!” You screeched, your laugh echoing through the empty common room as you nudged the ginger boy, making him laugh along with you. “It absolutely was,” he insisted, grinning before taking a sip of the firewhisky, taking in the sight of you looking so happy, and realising your laugh was one of his favourite sounds, “You were the one who wanted to sneak food from the kitchens, so it was your fault we got caught!”

You shook your head, “It was you tripping into that metal armour. All that noise when the bloody head fell off.”

“You pushed me, stupid!” George scolded indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a child.

“I shoved you,” you corrected, laughing as George playfully nudged you, causing you to nudge him back, and soon you were play fighting on the couch.

He, once again, was above you, almost pinning you to the couch as he looked down at you, and it was only then that you realised just how inebriated you both were, the empty firewhisky bottle having fallen onto the floor.

George’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, “You know I love you, right?”

You smiled softly up at him, arms around his neck as you nodded, somehow feeling like those words had more weight to them than usual. Leaning up to kiss his cheek, you replied, “Of course, Georgie.”

Morning arrived quickly, much to your dismay, and you were woken abruptly by the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs. You couldn’t bring yourself to move to see who it was, too comfortable with your head resting on George’s chest, his arm securely around your waist, but luckily for you, said culprit of the noise came right by your line of sight, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well what do we have here?” Fred cooed, rocking back and forth as he looked at you curled up in his twin’s arms. “Me and George falling asleep after drinking maybe a tad too much?” You replied as if it were obvious.

“You look awfully cosy,” he grinned, “But then, I suppose I would too if I was cuddling someone I was in love with.”

You felt like your heart stopped and you nearly choked on air, “Wait wait wait, someone I what?!”

“‘Someone I was in love with’?” Fred repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes at you, “You do know... right?”

At your blank expression, Fred raised an eyebrow, “You do know you’re in love with George... right?”

“I’m not in love with-“ You paused as you thought back over the years of your friendship. You’d never really thought about it before - never really had to. But you treated George differently to any other friend you had. No one could make you laugh like he could, or make you feel as protected and safe as he did. And no one ever made you feel like you were flying, like he did.

“Oh Godric... I’m in love with George!” You whisper-shouted, a hand coming to cover your mouth as the realisation dawned on you.

Fred nodded, “I didn’t know that you didn’t know.”

“That’s why you asked me if it bothered me when he asked out Kiara, isn’t it?” You suddenly realised, gulping harshly.

Fred nodded again, though a tad more hesitantly than before, “Hey, but listen- I really think he feels the same, if it makes you feel any better! He just doesn’t know it either.”

You moved out of George’s grasp and stood up, pressing your lips together as you looked at Fred, “He’s got a girlfriend, who he’s taking to the Yule Ball and who he adores and they’re probably gonna get married and have kids and I’m going to be alone forever!”

“Hey, that’s not- that won’t happen,” Fred replied, his gaze softening as he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and stroking your back comfortingly.

“He loves you, I know it. And he knows it too. He just doesn’t know that he knows it.”

***

Ever since your realisation in the early morning, you’d tried your best to act normal around George. It wasn’t easy, and you felt that maybe you were being a little more distant than usual, however you quickly pushed that thought aside as you noticed George being equally - if not more - distant, sitting at the end of the table beside Fred, Kiara on his other side as he whispered things in her ear, making her laugh.

You felt a pang of hurt, one that got worse the longer you stared at them, watching as they kissed, as George stared at her lovingly, as he pushed her long, brown, stupidly perfect hair behind her ear and making her blush.

Sitting on the opposite side of the table, you made yourself look away, instead immersing yourself in the conversation Ron and Harry were having about the Yule Ball.

“This is mad, at this rate we’ll be the only ones in our year without dates!” Ron hissed at Harry as you were all sat in the Great Hall, supposedly studying. You hid a laugh as Snape walked past and pushed his head.

“Well, us and Neville,” he continued with a small laugh. Harry leant over to him, “Yeah but then again, he can take himself.”

“It might interest you to know that Neville has already got someone,” Hermione interrupted their laughing with a frown.

Ron sighed, catching your gaze as you laughed at him - which made him sigh again, “Now I’m really depressed.”

You observed from the other side of the table as Fred threw a piece of parchment over to his younger brother, winking at you when he noticed you watching, as Ron frowned at the words on the page.

Ron handed the parchment back, glancing around to avoid Snape and whispered, “Who are you going with then?”

Fred grabbed the parchment and crumpled it up into a ball, before throwing it at you, the paper bouncing off your shoulder. You looked down at the paper, before meeting Fred’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned at you, before miming the Ball, nodding over at you. You rolled your eyes, glancing round for Snape before throwing the parchment back at him, hitting him square in the face and causing half the table to hid their faces as they laughed.

“Well?” He asked, seemingly unfazed by the parchment that was now resting at his feet.

“Yeah, go on then, I suppose,” you whispered, shaking your head at him as he winked at Ron. When all the attention went back to school work, you caught Fred’s gaze again and smiled thankfully.

He saluted playfully, making you laugh, neither one of you noticing George’s frown and clenched fists beside him.

***

You hadn’t seen much of George since Fred had asked you to the Ball, him being too busy spending practically all of his time with Kiara.

It hurt, you had to admit, that he was constantly choosing her over you. Though you assumed it was only natural, what with Kiara being his first proper girlfriend.

Didn’t mean it hurt any less. And the fact you were so used to having George to yourself didn’t help - sometimes turning to ask him something, and then realising he’s not there.

He’d moved seats in class to sit by Kiara, meaning in some classes you were sat with whoever happened to be her previous partner, which therefore meant you were forced to watch as the boy you loved flirted with another girl, his hands constantly on her waist, sneaking kisses when the professor wasn’t looking, and, more often than not, simply not even acknowledging your existence, not even saying a simple ‘hello’.

In other classes you were sat by Fred, who, by all accounts, was actually a pretty good partner, being able to make you laugh and distract you from the show that tore your heart every time you saw it.

In fact, Fred had pretty much mastered exactly how to make you laugh until you cried, his aim in most lessons now, as he hated how sad you were because of his twin.

You were both giggling in the back of the classroom at something he’d said when McGonagall had pointed it out, asking you both to “Please quieten down.”

You bit your lip to muffle your laughing as Fred looked down at you, just happy he could make his friend smile when he knew how much you were hurting.

Much to the dislike of a certain redhead towards the front of the room, who immediately frowned every time he heard your laugh, knowing he wasn’t the one causing it, but his older twin.

His twin who was taking you to the Yule Ball.

George clenched his jaw as he heard you whispering something to Fred, barely being able to focus on anything else.

He knew you and Fred were friends, but since when were you both that close?

***

By the time the Yule Ball arrived, you and George were barely speaking at all. You’d cried about it more times than you’d like to admit, but you had decided that tonight, at the Ball, you would make it a night to remember, not wanting to mope and ruin Fred’s night since he had asked you pretty much as a favour - despite the amount of times he’d insisted he wanted to ask you, you knew he fancied Angelina Johnson, and had things played out differently, you were sure she’d have been the one he’d thrown the parchment at in the hall that day, not you.

Either way, when you’d made your way down the steps to the Great Hall, your dress swirling around you, hair and makeup perfect, Fred made a huge deal of wolf-whistling and complimenting you.

“Well aren’t you bloody gorgeous,” he grinned, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it, “I am one lucky guy.”

“You clean up pretty good too, Weasley,” you grinned, reaching up to straighten out his tie.

George scowled as he watched you with Fred, hating you being in such proximity to his brother, hands clenching and knuckles turning white as he watched Fred kiss the back of your hand. He had to force himself not to run over and shove Fred’s hands away from your waist, as he guided you off to the Hall. He was so distracted by firstly how stunning you looked, and secondly by how forward his brother was being, that he barely even noticed when Kiara had arrived by his side, until she nudged him a little and he forced out a smile.

He complimented the brunette girl, guiding her into the Hall as his hand reached into his pocket, brushing over a box to make sure it was still there.

Fred had been the perfect date all evening. He was a gentlemen - besides the occasional flirty comment - and insisted on staying by your side and dancing, even when you tried to usher him to ask Angelina to dance.

He was just about to give into your insistence with a laugh, when he noticed your expression changed as your attention was taken from him to whatever was going on behind him.

He cursed under his breath as he watched George hold out a small black box to Kiara, who had a huge smile on her face as she took the lid off. She pulled out a necklace, bringing George into a hug immediately, pressing kisses to his face.

Fred stood in front of your view of them, taking your hands in his, “Y/n... I’m sorry. He’s an idiot- he doesn’t know he’s got such a good thing, and wouldn’t know it if you punched him in the face - which, for the record, I think you should do.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye, forcing yourself not to cry, “He gave her the necklace.”

“I know. I know, but he-“

“No Fred,” you interrupted gently, “He gave her the necklace. That necklace is one I saw when we were in Hogsmeade, and I said I wanted it. He-He even said he’d buy it for me one day! Not that I’d let him but- He bought it for her.”

Fred’s gaze softened, his heart breaking at the sight of your sad face, wrapping his arms around you and swaying a little to the music absent-mindedly.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered in your ear. You nodded, leaning against his shoulder, “Not your fault your brother is stupid.”

The song that was playing ended, and Fred grabbed your hand, leading you over to the table where the food and drinks were, pouring you a glass and offering it out to you. You took it gratefully, thanking him before taking a sip.

“Didn’t know you two were that close,” a voice came from behind you. A voice you knew well, one you could pick out anywhere. Fred reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, as you placed your glass down, nodding at him before turning around.

“Fred and I have always been good friends. I do have friends, other than you, you know. Which is a good job, considering you’ve been so distant with me,” you replied, focusing on keeping your voice level, rather than on the fact that he’d just given your necklace to his girlfriend.

George felt himself get angry as he noticed yours and Fred’s intertwined hands, swallowing harshly and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

“You know I’ve been trying to impress Kiara, being in a relationship takes up time. Not that you’d know, but I thought you’d understand. Didn’t think you’d replace me that quickly,” George retaliated in the midst of his anger, only being able to focus on you and Fred, and how close you were.

“Replaced you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “You barely even say hello to me! So yes, I turned to a friend so I wasn’t alone. You’re the one who replaced me! And you gave her the necklace, George. The necklace you knew I wanted. You gave it to her.”

Not waiting for a response, you shot an apologetic glance towards Fred before rushing out of the Hall, suddenly needing some fresh air.

“Look what you did now!” Fred almost growled, before storming out after you, in an attempt to find you.

George took a shaky breath, cursing as he watched the two most important people to him leave.

“George?” A soft voice spoke from beside him.

“Kiara?”

The brunette girl smiled, pressing her lips together as she looked at the ginger, “I um... I think we should break up.”

George frowned, though he was surprised to find he didn’t feel too badly about what she’d said.

The girl held out a black box and placed it into George’s hands, “This should be hers. It’s more her style than mine, I think you know that too.”

The redhead hesitated, unsure of what to say in this situation, “Look, Kiara, I’m sorry-“

“She likes you,” Kiara interrupted him, grinning despite the situation.

“She doesn’t-“

“She does. And you like her. Now go find her.”

With one last hug, and another muttered apology, he nodded determinedly at her, and ran off in the direction of his brother and, he realised now, the girl he truly loved.

***

“Y/n! Wait up!”

You span round on your heels, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen, “I said I’m fine, Fred! Okay? I’m fine. Absolutely fabulous, in fact.”

Fred stopped in front of you, a shimmer of pity in his brown eyes that made you feel even worse than you already did, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I-I’m sorry-“

“I know. I know, Freddie,” you replied, your voice quiet as you pressed your lips together, reaching out to grab his hands in yours, “It’s okay. It is, really. I just... I need to be alone.”

“But I- I just... it’s his loss, just so you know!” He pleaded, shaking his head at you, and swore under his breath at the sight of one of his closest friends in tears over his brother, “Merlin, he shouldn’t have given that to her- I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“It’s okay, I promise. It was always bound to happen right? I was always destined to fall for him, whilst he fell for her. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I would’ve realised. I’m- I’m so stupid, aren’t I? Falling for my best friend,” you let out a broken sob.

“You’re not stupid.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed back another sob as you turned around slowly, your eyes catching George’s gaze.

He stood, hair messy as if he’d raked his hands through it a few too many times, tie askew and shirt almost untucked in his haste to run and find you. He felt his heart clench, knowing he was the one to make you feel like this, and stepped forward reaching a hand out towards you as you blinked back tears, allowing him to bring you into his arms as you finally let the tears fall.

You knew you shouldn’t, that you should leave to your dorm, but being in George’s arms had always made you feel safe, made you feel protected.

More tears fell as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, muttering over and over again how sorry he was. How he was a fool, a git, a complete idiot.

You finally calmed down a little, looking around the empty hallway, not being sure exactly when Fred had disappeared but thankful for the privacy.

You wiped away the last of your tears, cursing mentally as you realise your makeup would be a mess - if the state of George’s shirt was anything to go by.

“Kiara told me you like- I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he breathed out, a hand cupping your cheek as you blinked up at him.

“Yeah well, you’re stupid. I always knew you were stupid,” you replied with a sad laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with a frown, his hands moving to hold your waist.

“You never asked. And then you-you got a girlfriend. What was I supposed to do?” You asked quietly.

“I’m in love with you,” George said suddenly, earnestly, genuinely as he held you against him.

“Not Kiara?”

He shook his head quickly, “She knew I liked you before I knew I liked you. Maybe I am stupid.”

“Maybe you are,” you let out a watery laugh, looking away from his gaze.

George suddenly reached into his pocket and brought out a familiar box, “This is yours. I don’t know what I was thinking, giving it to her. It’s yours - it’s always been yours.”

He opened the box, taking out the necklace you loved so much, and offering you a sheepish smile, “It’s not a good enough apology, I know. But I’m hoping it’s a start.”

He gently turned you around, placing the necklace around your neck, you shivering at the feel of his fingers brushing against your skin, before turning you back around to face him, this time much closer than before, his forehead resting against yours.

“So, and correct me if I’m wrong,” he spoke as he leant forward a little more, his lips almost touching yours, “Does this mean that I like you and you like me and we both don’t think of each other as friends?”

You nodded a little, offering him a soft smile, “I don’t want to be friends, George,” you whispered just as his lips brushed your own, “I wanna be yours.”

[kpop-zone]

(G)I-dle making up for slapping their s/o

Prequel

Miyeon

Miyeon could have never guessed how hard it would be to give you time. She just wanted to be close to you again. But she wouldn’t allow herself to overstep your boundaries; not again. So, she tried her hardest not to impose herself on you, even though it was slowly killing her. Usually, you had always allowed her to wrap her arms around you, no matter what you were doing. Now, Miyeon didn’t really know what to do with herself when she was around you. The lighthearted conversations and bubbly laughter in your life had turned into suffocating silence and an excruciating atmosphere and Miyeon was starting to get anxious.

Several weeks had already passed since that disastrous night, but you were still punishing her with ignorance. Of course, Miyeon had known that her mistake needed time to heal, still, she hadn’t expected such agonizing repercussions. No matter how much space Miyeon gave you or how many gifts she bought you in an attempt to show her remorse, you didn’t allow her to get close again. And she began running out of ideas. Was there anything that she could do to make it all better? Or was it too late? Maybe if she were smarter or less selfish, she would have accepted her defeat and left you alone. But she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to live without you. So she had accepted your punishments patiently while desperately holding on to you and feeling how you drifted further and further away. Until she couldn’t take it anymore one night.

You were coming home from work, only acknowledging her with the typical head nod and Miyeon felt the crack in her heart reaching a depth that she just couldn’t ignore anymore. She needed to know if the deep divide between the two of you was conquerable or if you had already given up.

“Do you still love me?”

She blurted out while tears started to pool in her eyes and you stared at her in shock, apparently not having expected her sudden outburst.

“I will leave if you ask me to. But I don’t mind waiting for you as long as there is hope. I just need something to hold onto. I just need to know that you are still willing to fight for this relationship.”

Miyeon added with a shaky voice and you instantly avoided her gaze, making the tears in her eyes spill at last. Your silence was a sufficient answer, even if it wasn’t the one that she had wanted to hear. Although the two of you were only standing a few steps apart, the distance between you felt like an ocean again and Miyeon couldn’t bear it anymore. Abruptly, she turned on her heel to run to the bedroom. Just before she could slip out of your sight, however, your voice caused her to stop.

“I do.”

Confused, Miyeon turned around to look at you while trying to decrypt your equivocal words. When you noticed the confusion in her face, you cleared your throat and took a few steps closer to her.

“I do still love you.”

You clarified, causing Miyeon’s eyes to widen in shock.

“You do?”

She asked dumbfounded after already having accepted her defeat. Slowly, you nodded in response and at a blow, Miyeon felt like the darkness that had surrounded her the past weeks was lifted. Her heart began beating wildly in her chest and a wide smile lit up her face. She wanted nothing more than to run into your arms now, but she didn’t know whether you were ready for that yet. Insecurely, she looked at you while shifting her weight from one leg to the other until you eventually opened your arms.

“Come here.”

You chuckled and Miyeon didn’t need a second to dash forward. With full force she threw herself into your arms and hugged you so tightly that you needed to remind her that you had to breathe.

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry that I created this mess in the first place. I swear that I will never hurt you again.”

She mumbled against your body, knowing that she would never do anything ever again to drive you away.

“I know.”

You replied before kissing the crown of her head, causing Miyeon to hum happily. This was the only way it was supposed to be.

Minnie

Minnie stared at you at a loss for words. She couldn’t find the answer in your eyes like she had hoped to, but her hesitation was apparently all the answer that you needed. Tears shot into your eyes as you nodded in defeat and slowly pulled yourself to your feet. Minnie watched you with a heavy heart and another wave of guilt washed over her. Why did she only ever make you cry?

Maybe it would be for the better if she let you go...

Conflicted, you lingered for a moment, but when Minnie still couldn’t manage to give you the answer that you needed, you started to drag your feet to the front door. It was unbearable for Minnie to watch you leave. Every fiber in her body told her to block your way, but she forced herself to stay put. For your sake. You deserved a better girlfriend. Only after the front door had swallowed you, Minnie couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She abruptly leaped to her feet and rushed to the door. Her hand hovered above the doorknob as her desire to be with you and her guilt collided inside of her. No matter what she did, it felt wrong. In despair, she slid down the front door and sunk to the floor.

She just didn’t know what to do.

Her whole body hurt, causing the sound of her sobs to fill the quiet room. She felt how she got caught up in a downward spiral. She was in free fall into endless sadness until a strange sound suddenly caused her to freeze. Confused, Minnie’s head snapped up and she looked around. But even through her blurry eyes she could see that she was still the only person in the room. Where was this noise coming from? For a moment, Minnie halted her movements and listened carefully until she was able to make out the source and the location of the noise. It was the sound of sobs. Someone else was crying right on the other side of the door.

Minnie’s heart broke and before she even knew what she was doing, she found herself on her feet, tearing open the door. You were cowering on the floor just like she had a few seconds ago while crying bitterly. On autopilot, Minnie leaped forward and wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s ok, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

She cooed soothingly between some of her own sobs. For several minutes, the two of you just stayed in each other’s arms on the floor until your sobs didn’t echo through the hallway anymore. Hesitantly, Minnie leaned back to look at you and her fingers automatically stroked your cheeks to remove the last remainders of your tears.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please come back inside again. I was being stupid. I wanted to be selfless and let you go, but I can’t live without you. Please don’t go, I promise I will work on forgiving myself.”

She pleaded, having realized that the decision to let you go had been the worst that she had ever made.

“How would that be selfless, dummy? I don’t want to live without you either.”

You exclaimed with a smile tugging on your lips, causing Minnie to sigh in relief.

“So you’ll come back inside?”

She asked insecurely, but you instantly nodded.

“Yes. If you stop acting weird.”

You replied while giving her a scrutinizing look.

“I will. I promise.”

Minnie was quick to agree to your condition before pulling both of you to your feet and into the apartment again. Even if she hadn’t wanted to forgive herself initially, her desire to keep you in her life was still bigger. So she would do anything to make you happy again.

Soojin

“Are you going to keep staring at me?”

You asked annoyed after the room had fallen silent for a while already but Soojin was still sitting right by your side. She just hadn’t been able to bring herself to walk away from you.

“I’m sorry.”

She whispered for the third time tonight and you groaned before turning to your back again. Expectantly, you looked at her, seemingly waiting for her to say more than just those three words. The same feeling of anxiety from earlier washed over Soojin and once more, she averted her gaze from you. What if she said the wrong thing? But she knew that she didn’t have the luxury to take her time with an answer now. You were looking more than just annoyed and if she wouldn’t be able to express her feelings right in this moment, there would be no hope for a reconciliation tonight.

“I’m sorry for everything. I should have taken your feelings seriously. I shouldn’t have slapped you. And I definitely also shouldn’t have run away. But I was just so ashamed of myself; I couldn’t bear to look into your eyes.”

Soojin sputtered before reluctantly looking at you. For a moment, you only stared at her, but then you inhaled deeply.

“I really can’t believe that you slapped me. And then you had the nerve to run away...”

You scoffed and Soojin felt how her shame hit her with full force again.

“I know. I can’t believe it either.”

She mumbled mortified while letting her head hang.

“Is this all that you wanted to tell me?”

You asked after both of you had been silent for a while and Soojin quickly shook her head.

“No! I also wanted to tell you what I should have told you earlier instead of slapping you. I’m sorry for not defending you in the restaurant. But that was not because I agreed in any way with what has been said. It’s just that sometimes I forget that you’re insecure about those things. Because you’re perfect to me in ever single way. So if I talk with my friends about you, I swear to god, it’s only to tell them how breathtaking, smart, kind, caring and thoughtful you are.”

She clarified, feeling how a part of the weight on her shoulders was suddenly lifted off. Maybe you would never be able to forgive her, but Soojin at least wanted you to know the truth behind her wrongdoing. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself knowing that you believed that she thought of you as anything less than perfect.

For a while, nothing but the faint noise of the refrigerator buzzing in the kitchen could be heard and Soojin contemplated what to do next. Would you allow her to sleep in the same bed as you? Should she sleep on the couch? Or would you even ask her to leave the apartment? Before she could come up with a plan, however, you cleared your throat and piped up again.

“I know that you would never make fun of me with your friends. I mean earlier my anger told me that it was a possibility. But even then, deep-down I knew that it wasn’t true. I just wanted to say something to hurt you.”

You admitted sheepishly and for the first time tonight a light smile tugged on Soojin’s lips.

“I’m glad that you know.”

She sighed in relief while finally daring to look into your eyes. She was still ashamed of her actions, yet it felt like the two of you had gotten one step closer to reconciliation.

“Maybe we can talk tomorrow about everything; calmly this time.”

You chuckled and Soojin quickly nodded in reply.

“I’d love to!”

She exclaimed a little too excited, causing you to laugh to yourself.

“Alright then. Try to get some sleep now.”

You smiled softly while pointing at her side of the bed and Soojin’s heart almost jumped out of her chest. Eagerly, she nodded in agreement before hastily discarding the flowers and getting ready for bed as if she suspected that you could change your mind any second. In record time, she found herself lying next to you although she neither dared to look at you nor to close her eyes. What if she woke up and you weren’t there anymore?

“Relax, Soojin. Everything’s going to be ok.”

You suddenly piped up as if you could read her thoughts and Soojin turned her head to the side. Your beautiful eyes radiated a sense of comfort and Soojin’s heartbeat calmed down at last. Everything would be ok again.

Soyeon

Soyeon didn’t even need to think where to go after the door had slammed shut. Her feet automatically carried her to the company that gladly was in walking distance. She hoped that her studio could give her the comfort that she desperately needed. Maybe she could even put all this sadness into something useful and start working on the next album. To her dismay, however, Soyeon didn’t feel the usual itch in her fingers once she sat down in front of her desk and the pages of her notebook stayed completely empty. No matter which keys she pressed on the keyboard or what chords she strung together, everything sounded bland to her. For almost two hours Soyeon tried to write down at least a single line until she was left completely frustrated and simply threw herself on the couch in her studio. She couldn’t concentrate when her relationship -the most important thing in her life- was on the brink of ruin. All she wanted to do was to go home and make up. But she knew that she couldn’t do that. This had to happen on your terms, and you clearly had asked her to give you space. So she needed to abide by your request. Even if it meant that the group had to suffer from it.

After spending a night on a sofa and not sleeping a single second, Soyeon very groggily attended dance practice the next morning. Her members immediately figured out what was wrong and showed her sympathy, but her teachers, unfortunately, were less compassionate. The minutes seemed like hours and in between the angry looks by her teachers and the anxious glances on her phone to check for a sign of life from you, Soyeon felt like losing her mind. She had hoped that you would be willing to see her again today, but after an exhausting day at the company there still hadn’t popped up a notification from you on her screen.

“Relax, Y/N is going to reach out to you.”

Yuqi tried to cheer her up when all of them were grabbing their stuff to go home.

“I don’t think so. It’s over.”

Soyeon replied crestfallen, starting to accept the fact that she had managed to ruin what had been perfect in just one night.

Suddenly, however, the screen of her phone lit up, causing Soyeon’s breath to hitch in her throat. Frozen, she stared at her phone, too scared to get her hopes up. Maybe it was just one of their managers...or maybe it was a breakup text.

“Look at it!!”

Shuhua urged her while pressing the phone in Soyeon’s hand. Shakily, she lifted the device up and looked at the message.

Y/N: Will you be home for dinner?

She read out loud and her members instantly assured her that this was a good sign. Still, Soyeon didn’t want to impose herself on you and decided to leave it up to you.

Soyeon: If you want me to?

She replied before anxiously staring on the screen and waiting for your reply.

Y/N: ...

For an eternity, Soyeon watched these three dots dancing on her screen and with every second that passed, she felt more like losing it. Eventually, however, you decided to end her torture and transformed the three dots into one single word.

Y/N: Yes

Your answer was short, but it made Soyeon feel more than any poem probably could have ever managed. In lightning speed, she said goodbye to her members and rushed home to you. When she reached the front door to your apartment, she typed in the wrong door code three times out of nervousness before finally being able to bolt into the apartment.

“Y/N?”

Soyeon yelled breathlessly as soon as she was inside in need to quiet the part of her that was convinced that you were just messing with her and had already left. To her surprise, however, you stepped into her sight just a few seconds later, making her exhale shakily in relief.

“I ordered from our favorite place. I hope that’s ok.”

You piped up eventually after the two of you had awkwardly stared at each other for a while and Soyeon nodded eagerly.

“Yes! Perfect! We can do whatever you want.”

She replied although she wasn’t really referring to the food with her last sentence. Soyeon felt relieved that you were willing to see her, nevertheless, she wanted you to know that the two of you would proceed in your pace.

“What do you want though?”

You answered while defensively guarding yourself by crossing your arms. Soyeon hated this tension that extended between the two of you and made it so much harder to wear her heart on her sleeve, but she still wanted to try her best.

“I want to tell you how sorry I am and that I know that what I did yesterday is unforgivable. But I also want to tell you that it will never happen again and that I will work very hard to make this right again. If that is what you want too of course.”

Nervously, Soyeon glanced at you, once again waiting for you to end her torture. You, on the other hand, were completely calm and took your time contemplating her offer. Your gaze seemed to burn right through Soyeon’s skin, and she uncomfortably tugged on her clothes while awaiting your verdict.

“Well, I guess I haven’t been really fair yesterday either. So we might do better to just try to forget last night...”

You replied after an eternity, causing Soyeon’s heart to leap in her chest.

“Ok!”

She agreed relieved, not being able to hide a wide smile anymore. There was nothing that she would rather do than to forget last night. She just wanted to go back to where the two of you had left off and the fact that you felt the same was making her happier than anything else in her life before.

Yuqi

“How could you have slapped me?”

You eventually broke the silence, but the disappointment in your voice made the awkward silence from before almost more desirable.

“I-I don’t know...”

Yuqi stammered in reply, because she truly couldn’t make sense of her behavior. She had never considered violence to be a solution for anything and hurting you was one of her scariest nightmares.

“You know the reason I started dating you was because I trusted you more than anyone else and because I felt safe around you.”

You sighed sadly and your choice of words caused Yuqi’s heart to tear in two. Trusted. Felt. Why were you talking in past tense? She needed you to know that tonight had just been a slip-up.

“And I really value that trust. Even if it didn’t seem like it tonight.”

Yuqi pleadingly looked at you, hoping that you were able to see her sincerity, but you were quick to avoid her gaze.

“I don’t know what to believe...”

You mumbled while massaging your temples as if this situation were causing you a headache, making Yuqi feel even worse about herself. She didn’t want you to martyr yourself like that because of her.

“I know and that’s ok! You don’t have to have everything figured out tonight. We can see how the next weeks will go. I swear that I will do everything to try to gain your trust back, but... if it doesn’t work out and you still feel uncomfortable, just say so and... I will leave.”

Yuqi’s last words felt like they were covered with thorns and only arduously left her throat. As much as she wanted to be a good person and give you the space to leave, only the thought of losing you made her feel nauseous. Nevertheless, she planned to stick to her offer and expectantly looked at you to agree to it. You still avoided her gaze, but after contemplating your options for a while, you eventually nodded in agreement. At a blow, Yuqi felt all the tension leaving her body and she almost sighed in relief. She knew though that she was nowhere near to celebrate. She still had to gain back your trust which had to be the most difficult task in the world. Yet, she felt hopeful. Your willingness to let her try to make it up to you showed her that at least some part of you still cared about this relationship.

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate this, and I promise that I will not let your second chance go to waste.”

She exclaimed gratefully and you looked at her with a piercing gaze.

“You better not.”

You warned her, causing a cold shiver to run up and down Yuqi’s spine. Suddenly she was hyperaware of what she had to lose, and an uncomfortable, tingling sensation settled in her stomach. She really had to get this right.

“You have my word. Your trust has always been the most important thing to me and knowing that I have managed to break it will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.”

Yuqi admitted with regret and you nodded slightly as if you were satisfied with her answer before standing up.

“I think we’ve said everything that needed to be said. I’m going to bed now.”

You concluded while walking towards the bedroom. Yuqi, on the other hand, kept sitting on the couch, feeling like you hadn’t said everything that needed to be said because she had no idea where the two of you were standing right now. Was she allowed to follow you? Was she supposed to give you space tonight? Indecisively, she wriggled about on the couch for a while until she decided that she should rather be safe than sorry. Therefore, she only walked into the bedroom to grab her pillow and a blanket while feeling your gaze on her before returning to the living room again. With a slight pout on her face, she made her bed on the couch until your sudden voice almost startled her to death.

“Yuqi, I appreciate the gesture, but just come to bed. Otherwise, you’ll only have backpain tomorrow.”

You were standing in the doorframe to your bedroom with your arms crossed and Yuqi looked at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

She asked insecurely to make sure that this was really what you wanted.

“Yes. I mean you’re not allowed to cuddle, but I’ll survive having you in my bed.”

You replied and Yuqi couldn’t help but to smile a bit. This almost felt like the usual banter that you always had after a minor fight when you were still mad at her but weren’t able to hide your caring nature. Without hesitation Yuqi leaped to her feet and followed you into the bedroom with her blanket and pillow under her arms. All of a sudden she didn’t fell as anxious anymore as before. She was sure that if she only worked hard enough, she could remind you again of who she really was. The love that the two of you shared was one of a kind and Yuqi believed firmly that it was strong enough to overcome any obstacle.

Shuhua

It had taken Shuhua almost all night to calm down again. Anxiously, she had walked in circles in the living room while tearing her hair in despair. How was she supposed to fix this? The look of betrayal in your eyes had burned into her brain, making her believe that the only way to gain back your trust was by building a time machine. As the sun began to rise, however, also the darkness inside of her started to fade and very slowly, she was able to think rationally again. There was no use in panicking; what was done was done. It was highly unlikely that someone would invent a time machine in time to fix this, so she had to try to clean the mess that she had created herself. Therefore, she called her members as soon as it was a somewhat acceptable time to disturb their morning to ask for their advice. All of them agreed that Shuhua was an idiot and that they would kill her if she didn’t manage to make it up to you. But all of them also agreed that the best way to gain your forgiveness was to talk to you when you were ready. Shuhua wanted to convince them that it would be best to persistently show you her remorse as soon as possible, but no one agreed with that. The members told her to let you set the pace and Shuhua very reluctantly gave in to their advice.

Still, she decided that it wouldn’t harm to ask you today whether you were already willing to talk. Equipped with your favorite snacks and a teddy bear, she drove to your best friend’s place because she was sure that you had sought sanctuary there. She figured that her guess had been right when she could hear agitated whispering behind the door after she had knocked three times. For a moment she was worried that you wouldn’t open the door, because she was able to hear the voices for quite some time, yet no one granted her access. Eventually the door swung open though and Shuhua found herself standing face to face with you.

“What do you want?”

You asked quite unenthusiastically and Shuhua physically felt hit by your words, causing her to take a step back. Never had you sounded so cold before, but she figured that she deserved that.

“I’m here to apologize and ask whether you’re willing to talk about everything with me.”

Shuhua tried to sound confident, but her voice more came out as a whisper. Your piercing gaze didn’t really help with her nervousness either, so instead of giving a great speech, Shuhua simply held out the teddy bear and the snacks to you. For a moment, you eyed the gifts before looking at her again.

“Do you think that can make up for everything?”

Defensively, you crossed your arms and suddenly Shuhua regretted having brought such cheesy gifts.

“No of course not. I just thought it would be rude to show up emptyhanded and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

She mumbled while quickly hiding her hands behind her back. Slowly, her nervousness turned into the anxiety again that she had already felt last night as her thoughts seemingly raced with 300 mph through her mind. She felt completely helpless and could not recall a single tip that her members had given her earlier.

“Didn’t you want to apologize?”

You asked eventually, causing Shuhua to snap her head up to look at you after simply having stared into a void for probably a whole minute. She didn’t know whether she was just imagining things now, but for some reason she felt like your gaze wasn’t quite as stern anymore. Your question didn’t sound snappish either, but more like you wanted to help her to regain her composure. Shuhua didn’t know whether she was persuading herself of those things because she was close to having a nervous breakdown, but either way, it helped. Slowly, her thoughts stopped hopscotching through her mind, and she felt somewhat confident to tell you what she had come here for.

“That’s right. I wanted to tell you how incredibly sorry I am for everything that has happened last night. I was wrong all along. And I can’t even tell you what has gotten into me to slap you. I want you to know that I feel terrible. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. I-I would never purposely hurt you...I-“

Shuhua hadn’t even noticed that she had started crying until it became more and more difficult to speak and she could suddenly feel a sensation on her arm. To her surprise she realized that you had reached out to squeeze her arm comfortingly and she had never wanted to be pulled into your embrace more than right now.

“I know that it isn’t in your nature to solve things with violence. But you’ve still hurt me yesterday; more emotionally than physically though. And that’s going to take a while to heal.”

You stated and Shuhua nodded understandingly.

“What does that mean for us though?”

She asked, feeling like she would rather have you break up with her than not knowing what the two of you were.

“I think we should take things slow. I don’t want to break up with you, but I feel like we have some things to resolve before going back to where we were. This whole fight yesterday had to stem from somewhere...”

You replied, causing Shuhua to sigh in relief. She wouldn’t mind taking things slow for a while as long as she was still your girlfriend.

“Ok.”

She agreed and for the first time today, you smiled at her.

“Ok then, it’s settled. Go home now and buy some breakfast on your way. You look terrible- no offense. I’ll text you later.”

You chuckled, causing Shuhua to gasp before touching her face and realizing that it was all puffy. Sulkily, she pouted, but your cheeky expression also made her giggle silently. Maybe the two of you weren’t quite where you had left off yet, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Shuhua knew that she couldn’t let something like last night happen again- neither for your nor for her sake. So she needed some time to get to the bottom of it. Maybe she could even be a better girlfriend in the end and that’s all she really wanted: to make you happier than any other person on the planet.

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[wormstacheangel]

Second part to the mixtape headcanon. Dean’s reaction to Cas being at his door in the middle of the night with the mixtape in hand.  

Dedicated to Liv ( @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ) sorry it took me a while but here it is. Might not be what you expected but hopefully you enjoy it either way.

Cas stopped short in front of Dean’s door. His heart raced as he held the Walkman to his chest, clinging to the words he just heard, but he knew those words were years old. So much has changed in general, but between them, it felt like a still lake.

Since coming back, Dean has acted as if those dying words weren’t even spoken. Sometimes Cas wondered if he imagined the whole thing, but he knew the truth; Dean didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for them.

It was something Cas has accepted the last few weeks of being in the bunker, being home, but now, with Dean’s secret message, he felt the courage in him bubble up his throat.

Cas quickly knocked three loud, quick bangs with his fist before waiting for a response. He heard a groggy, “What?”

“Dean? May I—Can we talk?”

Cas didn’t hear an answer right away, and for a second, he thought maybe Dean fell back asleep; he knew it was the early morning hours but wasn’t quite sure of the exact time. Still, time never really meant anything to him before, but now, as a human, time has become precious, and he didn’t want to keep wasting it.

He took a deep, shaky breath, raising his fist to knock again, but the door then clicked open. Revealing a disheveled and disoriented Dean.

He leaned against the door frame wearing lemon patterned boxer briefs and a hand up his t-shirt to scratch at his chest, as he yawned before he blinked at Cas a few times, “Dude, it’s 3 am. What can’t wait ‘til morning?”

Cas swallowed his nerves down before looking down at the Walkman to take out the tape. He brought it up to Dean’s face, and with an earnest voice, he said, “You said to come ASAP. So I’m here.”

Dean only looked at the cassette tape; a small gasp of a breath raised his chest, but then his face scrunched up in the familiar fixed glare, so Cas continued knowing Dean won’t talk. Not yet anyway.

He put the cassette back into the Walkman as he talked, rewinding it to keep his nervous hands busy. “I believe I understood what you—what the songs mean, but I am still so new at all this. If I am wrong, I don’t want it hurting us.” Cas took a sneaky look back up at Dean to find him watching the Walkman with the same intensity Cas was.

It only took a few seconds, and then Dean was shuffling in the doorway as the first song, Ramble On, started to play through the headphones. With no other words, Dean opened his bedroom door open just a little more, an invitation to come in, before he walked back over to sit at the edge of his bed.

When Cas walked in, he closed the door behind him but stood awkwardly by it. He broke the silence first as he looked anywhere but at Dean.

“You know what, maybe this can wait until morning.”

“You already woke me up.” Cas looked up to meet Dean’s stare, it wasn’t cold, but it still sent a shiver down Cas’s spine. “So talk.”

Cas opened his mouth, not knowing what words he was even forming, but Dean stood with a hand up to stop him before any words were spoken.

“Actually, first, why are you bringing this up again? I gave you that thing years ago.”

Cas put the Walkman down on Dean’s desk, the music softer but still background music, before looking at Dean with guilty soft eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. “Yes. I just heard—I appreciate the gift, Dean. Thank you but-um.”

Dean seemed taken back by the words, and, by his hardening demeanor, Cas knew they were the wrong ones. Dean was building walls up again.

“You know what, Cas,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face as he glared past Cas with an uneasy smile settled on his face. “I can’t do this right now. How about we leave the rejections for some other time? Yeah?”

Cas opened his mouth, confused, but Dean nodded.

“Good. Night, Cas.”

Oh. He was already being rejected. It made sense that Dean’s feelings changed after all this time. He must have been waiting for Cas to mention the message, but it’s too late now. He lost Dean’s love.

Cas reached for the Walkman, but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to those songs, understanding why Dean skips them now. So he fists up his hands, leaving the Walkman where it laid, before giving Dean a stiff nod in return.

“Understood. Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything in return, his jaw clenching as he looked at anywhere but Cas. “And take your damn gift with you.”

Cas’s chest tightened at the words. He felt familiar pain spread through his body, one he wished had a physical reason than an emotional, psychological one because a fist to his chest would hurt less.

“I don’t want it anymore.” Cas spit out as he opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hallway. “Throw it away for all I care.”

He slams the door closed behind him and stalks to his room, slamming that door behind him as well.

Then as soon as he is in the safety of his own space, he can feel the pain making itself known, like a hot blade slowly cutting into him or something heavy sitting on his chest. Either way, he wanted it to stop. Wishing he never heard that message or that he heard it at the right time.

Cas laid wide awake in bed, curled up around a pillow he was hugging to his chest. He stared at the wall, wishing he had a better imagination to keep him entertained, but all he could see was Dean’s glare. The glare those green eyes dug into him really digging roots and pulling him apart from the inside out with an invisible pull.

He couldn’t go out there and face him now. Maybe, Cas should have just ignored the long-ago message. It was apparent Dean had lost those feelings for Cas; he would have brought up Cas’s dying words weeks ago if Dean felt remotely the same. Now Cas was left with an awkward situation he didn’t want to be a part of.

He needed to leave.

Cas knew that. This is how it always went. Cas needed to go.

Cas stood up to walk over to his desk to grab his wallet and keys before grabbing his coat, ready to sneak off before the sunrise. He’ll be gone before Dean can kick him out again.

He didn’t even get a chance to open his bedroom door before Dean was striding in with a determined glare, “Okay, fuck this, I think we really need to-” Dean stopped to look Cas up and down as his shoulders dropped. “You’re leaving.”

“I think—I think it’ll be best.”

Dean nodded, his bottom lip being sucked into his mouth as he stared back at Cas. “Sure. Just do what you do best. Runaway.” Dean threw whatever he held in his hand across the room and broke it with a loud bang. Cas flinched as he saw what it was, the Walkman. “Fuck if I care!”

Dean was already turning to walk away, but Cas grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “Why are you so damn mad, Dean?” Cas walked to step in front of him. He moved until he finally locked eyes with the angry hunter. “I’m only doing this for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged Cas’s touch away. “Don’t bullshit me, Cas! You’re running away cause you don’t want to face me.” Dean poked Cas’s chest as he continued his angry rant. “Why don’t you start acting like a fucking man and face the damn consequences instead of being a little bitch and running away?”

Cas didn’t stand down as he glared back at Dean. “Enlighten me then. What would those consequences be?”

Cas took Dean’s finger and pulled it away from his chest, but it stayed in his grasp as he took a step forward, never taking his eyes off the familiar angry glare. The angry man he left behind still here after all those years, looking back at him with an ‘I dare you’ stare, but Cas could always read past those words. Dean was hurting.

“Why don’t you stop acting like a…like a little bitch, and just-!” Cas stopped with a loud sigh while he dropped Dean’s hand, along with his stare. Instead, he looked down at their socked feet. Dean was wearing pizza socks while Cas wore matching burger ones. They came in the same pack, and Dean split it up for them. He cracked a small smile thinking of that day before looking back up at Dean with pleading eyes. “Dean. I’m tired of this. Can you please just…Just talk to me?”

“Nothing more to talk about, Cas.” Dean sounded more defeated than angry now. “I got the message. Loud and clear.”

Cas blinked at him a few times. “Well, I’m sorry, but I apparently haven’t gotten the same message.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Cas just stood there staring at him, waiting for him to continue. “Geez, Cas, how many times are you going to fuck with my—I get it, dude, you don’t feel the same! I am doing my damn best here to be fucking normal about this, and then here you come bringing that old relic back as if—Did I fuck up somehow? Am I not giving you enough space?”

“I have enough space, Dean.” Cas tried to understand Dean’s words, process them, but they all felt just as jumbled in his mind as they did, leaving Dean’s mouth. “I—I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”

“Shocker.”

“Did I understand the message wrong?” Cas ignored him as he asked, turning his head towards the shattering remains of his gift.

He felt his shoulders fall as a pang of sadness hit him from seeing his first gift broken. Cas walked towards it, hoping he would find the tape safely stored away inside the deck of the Walkman. He crouched to pick up the big chunk of plastic in his hand. It was smashed beyond repair, and the eject button was not working. Great, he’s going to have to break it more.

“ASAP,” Dean mumbled to himself, and Cas hummed in response, twisting the part in his hand.

“Yes. That’s what you said, so I did.”

“I told you to talk to me ASAP years ago, Cas.” Cas didn’t have to look up to know Dean was walking closer to him. “Did you just listen to the message?”

“I did.” Cas’s shoulders slumped in guilt. Dean has been waiting for a response all this time. “Sorry.”

“So when you were—when you tried to return the tape, that wasn’t a, um, a rejection?”

Cas looked up at him before he stood up, the broken Walkman in his hand. “I have loved you then like I love you now, Dean. I would never. Is that what you think happened?”

“Yes!” Dean took a step forward as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes traveling down to the broken shards. “Shit. So wait, when you said you loved me, before the empty…did you mean,” Dean cleared his throat as he walked closer, nervously scratching his beard when he realized he didn’t have any pockets to hide his hands in. “Did you mean romantically? Like, like human romance?”

“I,” Cas felt his throat dry up as he tried to swallow a lump as he nodded earnestly. “I did. Yes.”

Dean looked at him, looking for something, and before Cas could ask what it was, Dean had his hands on either side of Cas’s face—pulling him in close until they were chest to chest. Then lips to lips.

Cas didn’t even realize he dropped the machine until he realized he had his hands on Dean’s skin. Feeling his body lift off the floor until he was being dropped on the bed, and Cas was watching something he never thought he would have or hear.

“I love you, Cas. I love you so much.”

Happiness isn’t always in the having, but fuck, this was so much better by a long shot.

[twstedtales]

Hello sweetie! How are you?

Since requests are open, can I request for a Jamil scenario with fem reader, please? She likes to flirts with him, like a lot. Sometimes he does the same or is taking by surprise by her and blushes (Idk, I let you choose how he reacts). Jamil don't believe her feelings are true and she's just playing with him until she kisses him.

Sorry if that's too long and for any grammar mistakes, I still practicing my english.

Kisses! 🌸🇧🇷

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒.

❝a kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.❞ - Ingrid Bergman

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | jamil viper × female reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,083

𝐭𝐰 | none!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | Hello, anon-chan! I am fine ehe and your english is just fine! I'm gonna be honest with you...I'm not good at writing flirting scenarios ahahaha. Still, I hope this suffices!

Jamil Viper had believed that peopleーhumans and non-humans alikeーwould always have dirty and ill intentions when approaching others; as people easily do it for either money and power, or both, blinded by greed. 

In this world, there's really no such a pure-hearted person. Because no matter how genuine they act to someone, there are inevitable times they would hurt others, intentionally or otherwise.

And at first glance, one cannot be sure if what they're seeing is genuine. And sometimes, even a second glance brings that much difference. That's the reason why Jamil had to sharpen himself forcefully. He had to know what kind of ill intentions people are hiding when approaching him…

However, among all humans and non-humans alike he had met so far, there's that particular odd one out.

"You just don't know when to give up, aren't you?" Jamil gave you an unimpressed stare, his mouth curling downwards in displeasure as he saw you approaching him during Alchemy class.

"Uwah, hello there, lover boy! As always, you look like a dashing charmer!" You waved enthusiastically at him, studiously ignoring his cold treatment. "Just wanna ask my usual question today. Do you like me now?"

"No," He rolled his eyes at you before squarely turning away. "And never will be. I had no time for you, so go away."

His rejection didn't bother you at all, in all honesty, the lone fact that he talked to you made you grinned triumphantly. "Okay. I'll ask again tomorrow. Maybe by then you'll like me."

It was the same scene as yesterday. And the day before. And the one before that day as well. Every day was the same; you would cheerfully approach him with that stupidly bright smile of yours that dimly reminded him of Kalim's (which grates his nerves further, at first), compliments him how he looks so good in the morning, helps him in his tasks which he certainly didn't ask you to but had to begrudgingly agreed due to the lack of manpower, and then ask him if he finally likes you back…

Your lack of embarrassment in saying stuff that should be said with careful tact is honestly taking him off guard. Especially when he was faced with something unexpected, such as Professor Crewel suddenly partnering him with you during an activity.

"You shouldn't try to fight fate, luv." You laughed aloud as you handed him vials and different plants for your activity. "It obviously wants us to be together!"

Talking to you further stressed him out, so Jamil had determinedly ignored you and your apparently flirting comments as if they're bullets when hitting him. Especially when you make sudden noises when your hands "accidentally" brushes his.

"Great Sevens, did you feel that?! The sparks between you and me!" Your eyes brightened as you stared at your hand in wonder.

"Just...give me that damn glass and shut up." 

Though he won't admit it aloud, Jamil had gotten used to your consistent pestering and openly displaying your "love" for him to the point he himself couldn't really believe how he was looking forward everyday when you ask him if he finally likes you back. Not to mention it strokes his ego a lot that you pay attention to himーcompliments him without an ounce of hesitation. And you were directing it all to himーnot to Kalim, or to anyone else.

But there was that snarky part of him that's telling him that you were just using him for something he didn't know of yet. That you were only doing...all of that because you wanted him to believe in you, to let his guard down around you. And when he finally does so (which was close enough, in all honesty) you would strike down what your true intent was…

This keeps him awake at night, wondering what in the world you wanted from him. Why he would fall into a small daze during the lull of the afternoon, or what it would feel like to tear off that bright smile from your face when he finally...finally had you under his control. How he wanted to see you lose that composure you wore so cooly around him even though you were practically declaring your love for him.

"Stop it," he gritted out one morning, his grey eyes boring holes to your skull as you once again took the chance to approach him. "Stop playing games with me."

"What game?" You asked, genuinely confused.

"Everything!" He snarled at you angrily. "Stop approaching me with that damn smile of yours. Stop complimenting me. Stop flirting with me. And stop telling me you like me, for the sake of all things in Twisted Wonderland. I've had enough with your games! This is not a Brontë novel, you won't be able to fool meー"

His words were abruptly cut off when you suddenly yanked the collar of his shirt and smashed his lips with yours intensely and without an ounce of hesitation. Your lips covering his rather boldly as you tried to move clumsily together with his.

Jamil was mostly frozen in place, for once not knowing how to react. But aside from the boldness of your action, he did take a note absentmindedly how your lips seem to tremble and the initial confidence you displayed when you yanked him to you had slowly disappeared into a more...meek and shy movements, as if just then you were realising what you had done.

What was seconds that felt like eternity had stopped, you finally pulled away from him, blushing from head to toe. Keeping a firm grip on his collar, you stared deeply at his eyes, conveying all your emotions into your gaze, praying that he would...finally, believed in you.

"Do you really think I'm lying to you all this time?" You asked him, incredulous. "Look at me in the eyes, or use whatever spell you have, feel my heartbeat, look into my mind. This is how I am when I'm around you. Can't you really see that?"

At first glance, one cannot be sure if what they're seeing is genuine. And sometimes, even a second glance brings that much difference...but what if, if he look at things with his heart, though...maybe he'll be able to see what he were really supposed to see?

Maybe admitting liking you will be worth all the risk he's about to take...

[spencer-reids-adventures]

Hello, I don’t have a prompt or nothing cuz I’m not that mentally creative, but !!!! can i pls get autistic Reid with Morgan angst and like a frens to luvers fic blurb thingy? god im terrible at this I’m sorry 🙈

(you are certainly not terrible at this and i love this prompt!!)

Also this ended up longer than I expected so it's posted on AO3 also!

-

Spencer Reid is excellent at reading victims, witnesses, suspects, and unsubs - it's what he does for a living, after all - which makes it all the more frustrating that he can't read Derek Morgan. At least, not what he wants to read about Derek Morgan, which is whether he shares the same feelings as Spencer. The fluttery-tummy, the smiling every time he hears his voice, the pining.

At first he hopes the feelings will go away - that it's just a silly crush, and he'll move on. But after three years working together, the feelings are stronger than ever, and that's when he decides he needs to do something about it.

So when the team is going to a club one night after work to let off some steam, and Derek asks Spencer specifically if he'll come this time - even though Spencer never comes out with them - this time he gives in and says yes.

He changes at home beforehand, hoping if he makes himself look "normal" then maybe acting "normal" will come easier to him. He puts on his one pair of jeans and a soft fitted purple t-shirt he bought to wear on a date once, and he switches his contacts for his glasses, because his eyes are tired. In the interest of "normalcy," he leaves his satchel at home, carrying only his phone and wallet in his pockets.

"Pretty boy!" Derek calls when Spencer walks in the door. "You made it!"

Spencer tries to focus on Derek's voice, his smile, his apparent happiness at seeing Spencer, and ignore the loud music, flashing lights, and crowds of people that have him immediately on edge. He waves to the rest of the team, who are all dancing, and walks over to stand next to Derek at the bar.

"What are you drinking?" Derek asks, and Spencer tries to weigh whether alcohol will make this better or worse. He decides he'd rather be in control as much as possible.

"Shirley Temple," he says, and when Derek laughs, it's friendly, not mean.

They take their drinks to a table, and Spencer realizes he should have brought his bag, if only to have the strap to fidget with, or one of the soft pieces of flannel he keeps inside to rub against his skin. Instead, he taps his feet and pretends he can hear what Derek is saying over the noise, and when he invites Spencer to come dance, Spencer says he'll catch up in just a moment. The minute Derek is gone, Spencer bolts.

He heads to the bathroom first, locking himself in a stall and covering his ears, trying to block out the thumping bass that feels like it's pressing in on him from all sides. He has a headache from all the perfumes and colognes and drinks and sweat and he lifts up the bottom of his shirt and holds it over his nose, trying to breathe through it like a filter. The flashing lights are gone, but one of the bulbs in the bathroom is flickering, and every part of this is too much.

Spencer finally decides that if this is what it's going to take to get Derek's attention, he might as well give up on ever being with him, because he absolutely, positively cannot do this. He doesn't even realize how hard he's punching his arm until it turns dark red, like it's about to bruise, and it's the last straw because even the bad stims aren't helping, and he can feel himself starting to fracture, lose the single thread he still seems to be hanging by.

He sneaks out the back door of the club and runs all the way home, keeping his focus on the way his leg muscles feel, and the slap of his Converse on the sidewalk, and the wind in his hair, and it's not until he's back in his apartment, huddled in his closet, screaming into one pillow and punching a pile of others, that he even thinks to check his phone.

From: Morgan Hey Pretty Boy, where'd you take off to?

From: Morgan Kid, seriously, where are you?

From: Morgan No one else has seen you and I checked the bathroom. Tell me you're okay

From: Morgan Spencer, you're really freaking me out

Missed call from: Morgan (11)

"Fuck!" Spencer screams into the pillow, and it's the last straw.

He throws his phone across the room and starts to rock forward and backward, hard enough that his head slams against the wall, flapping his hands as hard as he can, losing himself in shame and frustration and rage and humiliation.

He doesn't hear the knock at the front door, and the doesn't hear the door open, and he doesn't hear anybody enter the room, and when his hand hits something warm and solid he just punches it, and when he rocks back and his head hits a pillow instead of the wall, he starts to scream, and then to cry, and when he finally tires himself out, he collapses on the wood floor and falls asleep, and still doesn't realize there's someone else there, someone who carefully picks him up and lays him on his bed, removing his shoes and laying a blanket over him.

Spencer doesn't sleep for long, and when he wakes, Derek is sitting in the armchair in the corner, reading one of his books.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Spencer asks, trying to piece together the last several hours and finding no memory of inviting Derek over.

"You scared me, kid," Derek says, putting the book down. "You disappeared without saying anything, you didn't answer your texts or my calls. I thought something had happened to you! I was about to call the police before I figured I should check your apartment first. By the way, don't leave your front door unlocked."

"I don't usually," Spencer mumbles.

"What happened?"

"I just had to get out of there," he tries to explain. "It was-- everything was too much, and I thought I could be normal for one night but I was wrong, and I'm sorry I ruined your night--"

"You didn't ruin my night," Derek says. "Is that why you never want to come out to the clubs with us? Because it's... too much?"

"I get sensory overload," Spencer says quietly. "And I left my bag at home."

"Your bag?"

"I carry things that help. So I don't flip out like this all the time, especially on cases."

Morgan nods and moves from the armchair to the foot of the bed, where Spencer is now sitting up, still wrapped in the blanket.

"And when you got home?" Derek asks carefully. "When I got here, you were, uh..."

"I can't-- I can't talk about this right now, Derek," Spencer says desperately. "Can you just, I don't know, Google autism when you get home?"

"Yeah, of course I can," Derek says, raising an eyebrow. "If I'd known, I would have done that a long time ago."

"You didn't know? Really?"

"No, I just... I don't know. Thought you were--"

"Weird?"

"Quirky," Derek says. "But now that I know, I'll learn about it. And you can always share things, if you feel like it. If you think they would be helpful for me to know."

"Why do you care so much?" Spencer blurts out. "You don't have, like, an obligation to take care of me, just because you know now. You can pretend this never happened."

"I care about you," Derek says, moving closer to sit next to Spencer on the bed. "I care about you a lot, Spencer."

"Y-you do?"

"More than I should, maybe," he says with a small laugh. "I've cared about you since the minute I first saw you."

"Care about me like... the way friends care about each other?" Spencer whispers, and when Derek shakes his head no, Spencer reaches for his hand.

"If I'd known clubs were so painful for you, I would have invited you somewhere else. I just wanted to spend time with you. I always want to spend time with you."

"Derek," Spencer says, squeezing his hand, and before he can lose his nerve, Spencer leans in and kisses him softly on the mouth.

He pulls back and blinks a few times, waiting for Derek to tell him he's got the wrong idea, that he should leave, that this was all a misunderstanding. Instead, Derek leans in and kisses him back, deeper.

"I thought I'd never get to do that," Spencer murmurs.

"Me too," Derek replies.

"Can we-- do you want to go on, like, a coffee date with me?" Spencer asks. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"I'd like that very much. That, uh, doesn't mean we have to stop kissing now, though, does it?"

"Absolutely not." Spencer smiles, pulling Derek closer and deciding that maybe "normal" is overrated.

[calwrites]

Star Star Tours

Summary: You and Sebastian have been dating for a while now, but the public doesn’t know that yet. Keeping your secret causes some tension on James Corden’s Star Star Tours.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x actress!reader

This is my first time writing for Marvel, so I hope people enjoy! It’s just something that I wrote really quick, but I love the bus tour video, and I thought this could be a cute story. Also, Sebastian was not in nearly enough of the disposable camera pictures.

It was no secret that press tours could be draining. Being stuck in a room for multiple days while people keep asking you the same questions over and over again even though they know that you can’t really answer them. And considering how big Infinity War is, it was no surprise that there were even more interviews than usual.

That was why you had been so excited when you had heard about James Corden’s bus tour. Getting to spend the day outside, surrounded by some of your costars, sounded like a vacation compared to being stuck in a chair all day. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be chaos. Of course, you would do you best to add to that chaos.

Still, as you glanced over at your boyfriend, you thought that maybe press tours weren’t all that bad. You and Sebastian had met while filming Civil War, but you hadn’t really talked much. Sebastian was pretty quiet, and you had worried that he found your loudness annoying, so you had focused on befriending your costars who seemed more receptive to your large personality.

It wasn’t until the press tour that you actually got to know Sebastian. You weren’t sure if you had been partnered with Sebastian and Anthony because someone thought Anthony might ease your nerves about your first Marvel press tour or if they hoped being stuck with two people as outgoing as you and Anthony might force Sebastian out of his shell. Either way, the three of you had been a hit that press tour. More importantly, Sebastian had asked you out shortly after Civil War premiered.

The two of you had been dating ever since. It had made interviews a bit difficult for both of you though. You had decided to keep your relationship private. In theory, you were going to go public after a few months, but the two of you had enjoyed having a part of your lives that was actually private. It was a surprise that no one had let it slip, considering both Tom Holland and Mark Ruffalo knew about the relationship. Still, it was hard ignoring dating rumors every time someone thought you must be with whatever costar you had smiled at that week.

“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked, glancing at you before looking back the road. He took one hand off the wheel and grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers.

“Nothing.” You knew that Sebastian wouldn’t buy it. Not when he had seen your goofy grin.

“Nothing? Wanna try again?”

“What if we went to the premiere together?” You kept your eyes on your hand, still entwined with Sebastian’s.

“Like together together?” Sebastian took his hand back so he could turn into the parking lot of the studio. You tried not to notice the slight frown that he wore as he thought about your idea.

“We don’t have to. It’s just that it’s been almost two years. I thought it could be a good time. Maybe everyone will be so focused on the movie that we wouldn’t be big news.” Sebastian didn’t answer as he parked. You could already see a producer rushing over to the car, no doubt to get your ready for the tour. “You don’t have to answer now. Let’s just enjoy the tour and we can talk about it later.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you climbed out of the car and made your way over towards the bus.

After you got your mic and everything, you climbed up to the top of the bus, where James gave you a name tag after doing a little bit. Immediately, you rushed to the front row and took the seat next to Lizzie. The two of you had clicked immediately while filming Civil War, and she had been one of your best friends ever since. 

You noticed that Sebastian waited for a few more people to get on before he climbed on and took a seat at the back next to Winston. You tried not to read too much into the fact that he was sitting as far away from you as possible. It was possible, probable even, that he was keeping his distance just so neither of you slipped up on camera. It was a tactic you used quite often. But it was also possible that you had freaked him out when you proposed going public and now he was going to avoid you.

Shaking off the doubts in your head, you picked up the disposable camera that you had been given and started snapping pictures as everyone settled in. To your relief, Sebastian gave you a smile and a small wave when you pointed the camera at Paul and Letitia, catching him in the background. Before it could descend into total chaos, the bus began moving and the tour started.

You and Lizzie almost died laughing when Benedict had to put sunscreen on James’s legs, but he had a point. “Does anyone need face sunscreen?” you asked, waving the bottle of face sunscreen that you had thrown in your purse at the last minute. Very pointedly, you turned to Benedict and Hiddleston. “I’m looking at you two.”

“We get it, Y/N,” Anthony yelled from the back. “You’re a mom friend.” You stuck your tongue out in reply, mainly because flipping him off didn’t seem very TV friendly. Nevertheless, your sunscreen got passed around the bus. Paul tried to give it back to you without putting any on, claiming that he didn’t need any, which resulted in you and Lizzie basically wrestling him and putting it on his face yourselves. The laugh died in your throat as you began turning back to the front and caught sight of Sebastian’s grumpy face. You raised your eyebrows, but he looked away.

“What’s up with him?” Lizzie asked quietly. Apparently she had seen his expression too. You could only hope that no camera had caught it.

“Tell you later.” You tapped slightly on your mic and Lizzie nodded.

Luckily James began the tour before you could dwell on it any more. Between Don’s exaggerated pose when he took a picture of the coffee shop, getting into trouble with James for being “disruptive,” and the singalong, which you got way too into, you had almost forgotten about Sebastian’s stormy expression.

“This is actually Barbara Streisand’s holiday home,” James said, pointing at some strange, red building. “She actually designed it herself.”

“Is that true, Josh?” you called, spinning around so you could face him.

Josh shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Well what do you know? You’re just the bad guy. You’re just trying to cause trouble,” James complained.

“She’s his stepmom, so I think I trust him a bit more than you, James. Sorry.” You shrugged innocently at him before turning back around the air high five Josh. Again, as you were turning back to the front, you caught Sebastian’s eye. He was basically glaring at you.

“What?” you mouthed at him, which of course everyone behind you saw, causing them to turn to look at Sebastian too.

“Y/N, I am trying to give a tour, and you are being disruptive once again. I need eyes up front please.”

“But James,” you whined, huffing in your seat like a little kid, “Sebastian keeps looking at me. Tell him to stop.”

“Sebastian, I need all eyes on me, please. I am the reason you all paid to be here-”

“We have to pay for this?” Hiddleston asked, but James continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“-so I need you to stop looking at Y/N and pay attention to me.”

“I didn’t even look at her. What am I not allowed to look around now?” Sebastian answered a bit too hotly. There was a brief moment where you could feel everyone look between the two of you, even James and Reggie, who had no idea why it was so strange that Sebastian had snapped like that.

“Geez, Mackie, control your man,” you joked, trying desperately to diffuse the tension.

“No way. Sebastian is not my man. He’s sitting with Winston, so he’s Winston’s problem today,” Mackie yelled back. Luckily, this caused Winston and Anthony to start bickering about who had to take care of Sebastian during the tour. Sebastian, of course, hated the attention and eventually agreed to behave and even gave you a very child-like “Sorry, Y/N.” You stuck your tongue out in response and turned back to give James your full attention.

You all continued the act of disconnected celebrities as James explained what waiting in line was. Hoping to get a better view of the “normal people,” you tried to stand on your chair like you were ogling some animal at the zoo, but almost immediately at least five different people were yelling at you to get down. Apparently it “wasn’t safe” to stand on top of chairs on top of a moving bus.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to use the bathroom. Can I use the bathroom?” You didn’t turn around this time, worried about seeing Sebastian staring at you again. Instead, you focused on the faux apologetic look on James’s face.

“I’m really sorry. The problem is that the rules on the tour is that you have to have appeared in three or more Marvel movies to use the bathroom. End credits scenes don’t count. Y/N, do you have to use the bathroom?”

“I haven’t been in three movies,” you pointed out.

“That’s right, you haven’t. So I hope you don’t have to use the bathroom. Tom Hiddleston, do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I’m actually okay.”

“Oh, so sorry Y/N. Sorry Josh. Maybe you should ask your stepmom Barbra Streisand if you can use the bathroom at her holiday home.”

“I don’t even have to go,” you protested as Lizzie died laughing next to you.

“Well that’s good because you can’t. Now, does anyone die in the next Avengers?”

The bus was quiet as you all looked at each other. Finally, Paul yelled, “Snitches end up in ditches!”

“I thought they got stitches first,” you whispered to Lizzie.

“Apparently Paul is skipping that part,” she replied. The two of you gave each other a look before dissolving into giggles at the thought of Paul actually throwing someone in a ditch.

The tour continued with more of James’s jokes before he had the bus pull over at a comic shop. A part of you was nervous to go inside. While most of the fans that you had met were nice, you knew that there were still a lot of comic fans who didn’t like your character, or how you played your character, or that you had been cast, or whatever. You gave Lizzie’s hand a nervous squeeze, which she returned, but really you wanted to be holding Sebastian’s hand. You were each other’s biggest supporter. Whenever one of you was feeling nervous, the other was normally right there to offer support.

But instead, you walked in separately.

Luckily, everyone seemed too starstruck to gripe about anything. It ended up being a pretty nice time. You signed some comics and chatted to some fans. One girl even told you about a tattoo dedicated to your character that she was going to get. You almost had a heart attack when she asked you to write down her favorite line of yours, so that she could add that to the tattoo. Afterwards, Mackie had teased you about how much your hand was shaking when you were writing it. It looked like Sebastian was about to say something, but then a camera was suddenly in your face and he disappeared to the other side of the store.

After buying a couple of comics for yourself, you and Lizzie found yourselves in the corner of the store playing with a Scarlet Witch doll that you had bought for her. You didn’t notice when she looked up with a small frown on her face, but you did feel the hand that came to rest on your waist. You looked around quickly, making sure that no cameras were on you, before meeting Sebastian’s eyes.

“What are you doing, Seb?” you whispered. Without you realizing, Lizzie snuck away to give the two of you some privacy. Or as much privacy as you can get when you’re wearing a mic and possibly being filmed.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I guess I just got kind of jealous and I snapped a little.”

“Jealous?” You put your hand on Sebastian’s arm to keep him in place when you felt him begin to back away. “Jealous about what, Sebastian?”

“I don’t know.” He waved his hand around a bit at the rest of the group. “Just seeing your hands all over Paul and joking around with everyone around you.”

“Lizzie and I were forcibly putting sunscreen on Paul. I did that to you before we left the house this morning. I don’t think you have anything to be jealous about.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Sometimes it just feels like you always have everyone’s attention and you’re joking around with all of them and you never pay attention to me.” You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing at the adorable pout on Sebastian’s face. “And I know that we kind of have to ignore each other sometimes because we don’t want people to know about us, but I just always wish that I could be joking around with you too. I have so much fun talking to you and being around you, and seeing other people having fun around you when I can’t is just annoying sometimes. It’s like I always want to be right next to you.”

You placed a gentle hand on Sebastian’s cheek, making him meet your eyes. “I always want to be next to you too. And most of the time when I’m joking around with other people, I’m wishing that you were there too. But right now, we should get back to the others. It’ll be a miracle if we haven’t been caught on camera.”

“Oh I asked Anthony to make sure that no one would be paying attention to this side of the store.”

“Is that why he’s been yelling for the past few minutes?”

“He’s the best choice for a distraction, unfortunately.” You grinned at Sebastian as you wrapped your arms around him. Smiling back, he planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“That’s way too bold,” you scolded him. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s no way we would be able to explain that away if anyone saw. Way too many questions.”

You began to walk away, but Sebastian pulled you back to him. “Let them ask questions. The premiere is soon and they’ll have their answers then.”

“Oh they will?” You raised your eyebrows in mock confusion.

“Of course. When we go together. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a date.” The two of you smiled at each other and were about to lean in for a kiss when Anthony was suddenly pulling Sebastian away.

“Break it up, lovebirds. I thought I was providing a distraction so you two could make up, not so you could make out. Now come on, Sebastian. We need to take a picture with that Spiderman statue outside.” 

Sebastian gave you a shrug as Anthony dragged him outside. You rolled your eyes at their antics, then followed the rest of the cast as they began to make their way outside and back to the bus. You had stopped to admire Benedict’s drawing skills when Lizzie was suddenly clutching your arm and squealing. She, of course, had seen everything, though she assured you that everyone had tried their best to be as entertaining as possible on the other side of the store, so that no cameras would be on you.

You wore a smile for the rest of the tour. Lizzie kept teasing you every time you and Sebastian would sneak glances at each other. Not that you could really sneak glances when you had to turn around constantly to look at him. Once again, you got way too into the singalong. This time, Sebastian yelled encouragement at you as you sang off key.

By the time you reached the studio again, you had decided that this was really the best way to do a press tour. You waved goodbye to James and Hemsworth and you climbed off the bus. Before you could take more than a few steps, Sebastian had picked you up and was spinning you around.

“How have you two not spilled the beans yet?” Paul asked as everyone watched in amusement.

“You weren’t even being subtle at the comic shop,” Benedict pointed out.

“Y’all are lucky that the cameras love me so much that they weren’t looking at you,” Mackie joked.

Apparently, the cameras didn’t love Mackie as much as he thought. When the video came out, some eagle eyed fans spotted the two of you looking cozy in the background of a shot. Some people argued that it was impossible to say for certain that it was you and Sebastian, but your Twitter and Instagram notifications were full of people asking if you and Sebastian were dating.

The two of you decided to ignore the questions. Lucky for you, Marvel made it very clear to all of the interviewers that there should be no questions about anyone’s personal lives. All focus was to be on the movie. So you kept the fans guessing until the two of you showed up to the premiere arm in arm.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of people more focused on your relationship than on the movie, so there were plenty of articles about the two of you. Apparently, you were Marvel’s new power couple. As long as you had Sebastian, that was a title you could live with.

[honeyju]

home run; lee minho

The four times you try to ask Lee Minho to the winter formal, and the one time he asks you. 

genres: fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au, sports au (baseball player minho!!)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: merry christmas!! this is a christmas collab that i’m doing with my friend alice @jjacob​ in which we write for each other’s ult biases! (mine is juyeon, so if you’re interested in the boyz, i recommend reading her story here, especially since our storylines are a bit connected!) i had a lot of fun learning more about minho during the writing process, and i hope this story represents him well <333

TRY ONE: KEEP IT SIMPLE. 

If there’s anyone in the world who knows Lee Minho better than you do, it’s Lee Juyeon. 

The two of them have been joined by the hip for as long as you can remember, and if Minho is the relentless tease, spirited and carefree, Juyeon is the gentle thinker, all sweet smiles and wise words. So that’s how you end up frantically dialing his number at nearly one in the morning, too panicked to consider the possibility of him being asleep. You wait with bated breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times before Juyeon picks up the phone, his breathy laugh greeting you instantly. 

“I was waiting for this.”

Juyeon’s words cause you to let out a small noise of surprise, and his chuckle sounds in your ear, a little choppy and distant-sounding due to the poor connection, but bright nevertheless.

“What do you mean you were waiting for this?”

“Silly girl,” Juyeon says, and you can tell he’s grinning despite not being able to see him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at him when they announced the dance this morning.”

Your face turns red as you recall the mention of the winter formal during the school announcements and the way your head had immediately turned to Minho’s. You were certain that no one else had noticed the longing upon your face when you looked towards your close friend, but hearing Juyeon now leaves you unsure. 

“Was I that obvious?” You groan, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment. 

“I wouldn’t worry that much, it wasn’t too apparent,” Juyeon assures you, and yet the spark of doubt in your mind still lingers. 

“You think he knows?” You question as you run your fingers through your hair. 

“That you like him? I don’t think he’d get that from just one glance.” Perhaps he’s right, for you know that Juyeon is just naturally more perceptive than others, and the things he picks up on don’t tend to be the same as what others notice. 

“I hope you’re right. This isn’t how I wanted him to know,” you groan.

“Oh? So you’re planning on telling him? That’s why you called, right?” You know Juyeon’s teasing you by the tone of his voice, and you resist the temptation to whine at him. 

“Help me ask Minho to the dance, Juyeon,” you plead, trying to let every ounce of your desperation show in your tone, praying that his response will be yes. There’s a pause, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as you await his next words.  

“Well, I can’t exactly ask him for you,” he starts, “but I’ll try to give you some advice.”

“Thank you, Juyeon,” you breathe in relief, switching the call to speaker mode so you can peel it away from your cheek.

“Don’t mention it. First things first, though . . .”

Juyeon trails off without an explanation, and you understand why a few moments later when you catch a flicker of light erupting from your phone out of the corner of your eye. When you lift it up a little higher in your hands, you see that Juyeon has turned his camera on, his face just slightly too close to the camera and his smile filling the screen. You rush to turn yours on as well, switching on a lamp so your face can be seen in the near darkness of the room. After an exchange of waves, Juyeon clears his throat, and even through the blurry quality you catch the blaze in his eyes that suggests he’s gotten idea.

“Y/N, Minho’s at your place right now, isn’t he?” Juyeon asks, and there’s something about his tone that strikes you as a bit too bold for your liking. 

“Well, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, “but I think he’s asleep right now.”

“How about you just ask him whenever he’s awake?” Juyeon suggests, and you raise your eyebrows incredulously as you watch him shrug his shoulders like he’s just told you to do the easiest thing in the world.

“Are you insane?” You shriek, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when you realize how loud you’ve gotten. Juyeon only laughs, his eyes morphing into crescents and his bunny-like smile widening. “You think I should just ask him like that, no preparations or anything?”

“Trust me, Y/N. It’s nice to make things special, but I think that Minho will appreciate your honest confession more than anything else.” Juyeon’s advice is laced with sincerity, and you don’t need to look at his face in the camera to know that he wants the best for you. 

“I’m blaming you if things go wrong, Lee Juyeon,” you sigh reluctantly. “But I suppose there’s not really any other way to do it.”

“Give it a try,” he encourages. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Thanks, Juyeon. For picking up so late and for the advice,” you tell him genuinely, and he smiles. 

“Anytime, Y/N.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and your head automatically drops to the table to rest in between your arms.

“Just ask him whenever he’s awake,” you mutter to yourself, “How am I supposed to do that? Oh, good morning Minho, breakfast is over there, and by the way, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the winter formal with me?” 

The words sound stupid no matter how you say them, and you can’t stop yourself from the feeling of hopelessness that strikes you as you trudge back to the bed where you find Minho laying peacefully on his side. You smile, tilting your head as you watch him for a moment until he suddenly turns over so he’s lying on his back, blinking repeatedly until his eyes focus on you.

“You’re back?” His words are hoarse and followed by a yawn, which you laugh at softly. 

“Sorry, Minho, did I keep you up?” 

Minho says nothing and instead pats the space beside him on the bed, to which you oblige, instantly climbing in to lay next to him. He inches closer to you, resting his head next to your shoulder and quietly snuggling into your side. Trying to ignore the way your heart has sped up in response to his figure latching onto yours, you recall Juyeon’s words from before, realizing that he’s awake right now, and perhaps you have a chance. 

“Minho?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you don’t dare to look at him out of fear for your heart. 

“Hmm?” Minho’s response is sleepy, slightly muffled from your shoulder but unbelievably soft. 

“Are you by any chance going with someone to the winter formal?” You ask hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut out of embarrassment. Minho makes a small noise of disagreement, and you can feel his head shaking against your side as if in extra confirmation.

A relieved sigh falls from your lips, but your next words get stuck in your throat when you come to the realization of just how scary it is to confess. You can’t stop the swarm of worries that hit you, overcome by the question of whether he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend, and if asking him to the dance will jeopardize your relationship with him. You know that you can’t hold your feelings in forever, though, and you think of Juyeon’s kind motivation when you say your next words.

“D’you maybe wanna go to the formal together?”

There’s a heavy silence, your question lingering in the air unanswered, and your heart sinks in your chest at the lack of response. 

“Minho?” You try again quietly. Dread overtakes you as you guess that perhaps his silence is a form of his rejection, and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to get yourself out of this one. When you turn on your side to face him, however, you find that he’s already fallen back asleep, light snores emitting from his parted mouth. A small smile creeps up your face as you unconsciously lift your hand to stroke his hair, mindlessly dragging your fingers through the silky strands. He leans into your touch, eyes still closed as he mumbles meaningless words out of fatigue and shifts so he’s closer to you.

Maybe tomorrow, you think to yourself, resting your head on the top of his and letting your eyes fall shut as sleep overtakes you.

TRY TWO: MAKE IT SPECIAL.

Your heart pounds as you tug the door open to the café, peeking inside to find the area mostly empty save for a handful of students at the far end. You thank the heavens for appearing just on time, the familiar sight instantly soothing your nerves. You set the large plastic bag you’d brought along with you on one of the tables, laughing a little as you begin to empty it of its contents one by one. 

“Look at you, Y/N,” you mumble to yourself, “bringing this food and getting all dressed up for a man.” 

The last item in the bag makes you smile, despite yourself, and you pull out the small box of chocolates that you had bought in the morning, setting it down to complete the collection. You marvel at the assortment of treats you’d gotten for him, shaking your head as you sit down to try and calm yourself from the slight tension of it all. Glancing up to check the time in one of the clocks hung up on the wall, you realize with jittery anticipation that he’ll be arriving soon. 

Five minutes pass, and he’s nowhere to be seen. 

You think nothing of it until another ten minutes pass, and you begin to wonder what’s holding him up, trying not to let the feeling of unease get to you as you assure yourself that he might just be running a bit late. Your foot begins to tap quietly against the tiled floor, an anxious habit of yours you’d never managed to quite get rid of. 

Thirty minutes pass, and you pull your phone out from your side pocket, unlocking it to stare at his contact in part hesitation and part concern.

Should I call him?

You weigh out your options, wondering if you’ll sound too demanding if you call to ask if something’s wrong. However, your phone appears to solve the problem for you, the shrill sound of its ringing interrupting you from your thoughts. You jump at the sudden noise, but accept the call instantly upon seeing the caller ID. 

“I was just about to call. Is everything okay?” You ask, and your eyes widen in worry at the sound of Minho panting on the other end.

“Y/N,” he breathes, “I—I’m sorry. Coach is keeping us in an extra hour, and—”

“Slow down, Minho,” you urge, “first catch your breath.”

He hums in agreement, and your face falls when you process his words, realizing the true reason he called. Although you know he’s not the one to blame, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that creeps up inside of you as you glance down at the chocolates and favorite foods of his sitting on the table. 

“You’re saying you can’t make it today, right?” The words come out softer than you mean for them to, and Minho sighs regretfully. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know we have that big game coming up tomorrow, and—look, if you want, I can leave practice.” His voice is gentle, apologetic, and tears sting your eyes upon hearing how willing he is to risk getting kicked from the team for you. 

“No, you can’t,” you shake your head frantically. “I’m not letting you suffer the consequences of that for something this small. Go have fun, okay? We do this regularly anyways, we can just meet up next time.”

You hear a rustle on his end, followed by the voices of his teammates calling out for him. “Are you sure?” Minho asks, a twinge of concern in his tone. 

“I’m sure! Now go, they’re calling you,” you encourage, trying to sound as cheerful as you can to convince him. 

It works, to your relief, for Minho’s next words are bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice before he ends the call. 

There’s a moment of silence as you look at the goodies once more, before your eyes land upon the box of chocolates, and you pry the lid open to find them already beginning to melt. Reminding yourself that you won’t be seeing him today anyways, and that there’s no use wasting a perfectly good box of chocolates, you pop one of them in your mouth. The corners of your lips tug upwards at the savory taste, and you let out a deep exhale as you remember that you’re not out of ideas just yet. 

“More for me, I guess,” you mutter, trying not to lose hope. “On to try three!”

TRY THREE: GO ALL OUT. 

The sign leaning against your legs serves as a constant reminder of just how whipped you are for Minho, and at times it amazes even you just how far you’re willing to go for him. Making sure no one else can see it, you take yet another glimpse at the cardboard sign you spent the entirety of last night making, lifting it enough for it to rest in your lap. You stare at the bolded words drawn on the surface in capital letters, surrounded by small designs and stickers in a variety of colors. 

I might strike out asking, but will you go to the winter formal with me?

An embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your throat and you find yourself yet again bewildered by the sheer cheesiness of it all. You can’t bring yourself to raise it, however, telling yourself that tensions are too high right now and that you’ll show him later when there’s no potential of the sign distracting him. You set it back down at your feet, and you look past the sea of people to search for Minho in the group of players on the baseball field. 

Murmurs of “the score is so close,” “we need a home run to win,” and “we’re gonna lose, aren’t we?” echo around you in the stadium, and your mind immediately flashes back to Minho’s words from before the game. 

“If I win, you have to do any one thing that I want for me.” 

You had teased him and asked him what he’d do if he lost, but Minho had only shrugged nonchalantly, telling you that he’d do anything you wanted if that was the case. 

Looking down at him on the field now, you watch as he readies himself at the batter’s box, and despite the near-impossible chance of him securing the team a win, something about the blaze in his eyes tells you that he won’t be losing today. Just before the pitcher can pitch the ball, he looks up towards the stands, his eyes scanning the crowd to find you. When he does, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t mouth anything, but somehow through his gaze, you already know exactly what he wants to tell you: he’s going to win. 

The pitcher steps forward, raising his leg and leaning back with the ball before he throws it with a single fluid motion. The ball spirals forward towards Minho with immense speed, and you watch breathlessly as he positions himself to hit it. He swings the bat, and a gasp leaves your mouth.

What happens next is a blur, and by the time you can process what’s happening, Minho has already tossed the bat and reached base one. You squint your eyes as you search for the ball, managing to glimpse it right before it falls outside the gates of the field. You cover your mouth with your hands in shock as you look back down to Minho just in time to watch his foot touch the second base. 

“He hit it all the way out!” Shouts and exclamations of surprise reverberate around you as the audience rises to its feet eagerly. 

Base three. 

All attempts to stop him are useless at this point, you realize, for Minho’s already making his way to the final base, his features hardened by determination. Just before he reaches the end, Minho finds you in the crowd once more. His gaze remains locked on yours as he flashes you a small grin, his foot touching the home plate at the exact same moment. 

Home run. 

For an instant, there’s nothing but dead silence, and then the entire audience erupts into applause, the noise turning almost unbearable as it rings in your ears. The edge of the sign scratches against your leg as you stand up, and you’re reminded of the dance as you impulsively grab hold of the cardboard, getting on top of your seat as you prepare to raise it. When you inspect the field one last time to ensure Minho is still there, you find that he’s lost in the arms of his teammates, all shouting excitedly and clapping him on the back among cheers.

Your shoulders slump as you realize that there’s no way he’ll be able to see your sign with all the ruckus, and you dejectedly get down from your seat, making your way off the stands and exiting the stadium. 

As you trudge home, you wonder if you’ll even be able to face him without blushing, let alone ask him to the formal. 

TRY FOUR: NO INTERRUPTIONS. 

The next time you see Minho, you’re stepping through the open door of Chan’s house, and you’re met with the sight of the entire team laughing recklessly, joking around and shoving each other playfully over a set of pizza boxes. Small decorations and streamers are hung up in colors of red and green to highlight the approach of Christmas, and something about the setting makes you feel delightfully warm. It’s somehow exactly the kind of celebration you imagined, and when you look towards the team once again, you find Minho in the center of all the chatter, just as you always do. 

When he catches you standing before them, he freezes, and his gaze morphs into something different, almost hungry, as his eyes slowly trail over your figure from top to bottom. The intensity of his stare seems to burn into you, and you watch in quiet anticipation as he separates himself from the group to walk up to you. 

There are no excuses now, you think. No interruptions, no distractions, no reasons to prevent you from asking him. 

“‘Come to the celebration party at Chan’s place, and I’ll tell you there,’” you greet, quoting his text from hours before, and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. What is it that you want?”

“You look beautiful,” is his response, and your next words are forgotten as your face goes up in flames. 

“I’m glad you think so. It took me a long time to find this dress,” you mumble, staring down at your feet to hide your blush. 

“I’m not talking about the dress,” Minho says, and your eyes widen as you look back up to search his face. He turns away before you can look too hard, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turn red. “Anyways,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes, “you told me you wanted to ask me something too, right?”

“You first,” you blurt, still too flustered from his compliment to think straight. Your words, however, are drowned out by a particularly loud screech emitting from the other end of the room, followed by the booming laughter of the rest of the team. Furrowing his brows, Minho cups his ear and leans closer to you, prompting you to repeat the words in his ear. Another series of laughs sounds from the room, and Minho takes your hands in his to bring you to a more empty section of the house. 

“Finally,” he breathes when the two of you are safe from disturbances. “I swear, they can get so loud sometimes.”

You giggle at his words. “Tell me what you want for winning,” you urge him, trying to do whatever you can to delay your turn. Minho’s face darkens, and something about the way his gaze turns intense makes your heart race.

“Look up,” he whispers, his hands tightening around yours. You obey, your eyes drifting up as you find yourself staring at what you think could be one of the most beautiful bunches of mistletoe you’ve ever seen, hanging from the ceiling and twinkling under the soft light. You gulp upon realizing its implications, your tongue swiping over your lips out of nervous habit. You look back down to face him, and you find that his expression reflects the same desire he displayed before, his eyes sparkling as the corners of his lips turn up. 

“We can’t break tradition, now can we?” He teases, leaning forward just enough for your noses to touch, his lips barely ghosting over yours so you can feel the warmth of his breath upon your face. When you close your eyes, your own lips parting, he closes the distance. 

Time seems to freeze in place as his soft lips meet yours, his hands dropping to your waist as his lips move slowly against yours. There’s a passion in his kiss that you’re reciprocating before you even know it, and a slight smile shapes his lips that you can’t help but mirror. He’s the first to pull away, resting his forehead on yours for a moment as he catches his breath. 

“You have to do any one thing that I want right?” He breathes. “Go to the winter formal with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes flying open in shock and immediately finding his as you soften at the sincerity in his face. 

“You mean that?” You murmur, and a smirk graces Minho’s features, one you’ve become so familiar with after countless years of him teasing you. 

“’Course I do. That’s what you were gonna ask me too, right?” He raises his eyebrows knowingly. You blink for a moment, tilting your head slightly as you process his words. Then it hits you. 

"Juyeon told me I wasn’t being obvious!” You grumble, pouting in dismay. 

“Well,” Minho laughs, “I only had a small idea that you liked me. What confirmed it was that sign you made—I might strike out asking, right? I may have gotten a peek at it when you left to get water before the game.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t look! That’s not fair,” you whine, hitting his shoulder playfully. 

“It’s the reason I’m asking you now though, isn’t it? So tell me, Y/N. Will you go to the dance with me?” Minho smiles softly, the light in his eyes is akin to that of the mistletoe berries gleaming above you. You can’t stop your mouth from pulling into a wide grin, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him closer to you, letting your lips answer his question as they meet his once more. 

LEE MINHO; TRY ONE: SUCCESS!