#parks relationship with Bell is not talked about nearly enough!

[tomialtooth]

Imo the best avenue for having Bell live post "Good" ending is for park to snatch Bell up before or after Adler shoots them. We already know that Park and Adler don't necessarily get along that well and are working together more out of necessity than choice. We have multiple occasions where Park and Adler disagree on methods or something else. We also know that Park is methodical in her information gathering and I highly doubt they got everything pertaining to Perseus out of Bell. There simply wasn't enough time. At the end of the game the battle is won but the war is still on! Perseus still exists as an organization after their defeat at Solovetsky and the death of the original Perseus, the mantle is just passed down.

So to me, it would be Pretty smart of Park to save Bell and have them pretty squarely under the MI6's thumb to squeeze for more information since Perseus is still out there! Plus, as Bell was a high ranking member they probably have a good deal of knowledge into the origins of Perseus, how it functions and how many connections it has globally. Bell's surface was barely scratched. The MI6, despite firmly being US allies wouldn't say no too getting some dirt on them. That's just how intelligence rolls. Cutting Bell a deal where they work for the MI6 in exchange for their life and being kept out of the CIA's grasp is about the best Bell can get. Bell was also straight up good at their job, a skilled cryptologist with the physical prowess to back it up? Those are good skills to have in their line of work!

In summary I think the best way to have Bell live post game is if Park intervenes. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[rosanna-writer]

Fictional (2/3)

HUGE thank you to @azrielshadowssing for organizing another ACOTAR writing circle! This is my first time writing Nessian, part two of the fic started by @mercarimari. I was so excited to continue a story that was already DELIGHTFULLY meta; you can find part one here, and mine is under the cut.

Summary: Nesta has always hidden herself in books. Most if not all of her real life relationships had ended in fire and chaos. She was an expert in self destruction after all. But when a birthday gift from her sister brings a touch of magic to the world, and a piece of fiction into her reality--- Could things really change for the better? 

No. Absolutely not. There was no way this stranger really was a man who'd just stepped out of a book, even if he did know her name. That was beyond absurd—Nesta thought she should have been worried someone had spiked her drink if she'd actually thought he could be a fictional character come to life.

"Do I know you?" she said.

Even though her tone was cold enough to freeze the surface of the sun, the man just kept grinning at her. "I think you know exactly who I am. Does Nesta Archeron's Unlikely Night ring a bell?"

The fact that he knew her name and the title of the book Elain had given her should have sent her running. He had to be some kind of stalker, one who might have gone through her things.

But he was also the most attractive man in this bar by a mile, and Nesta wouldn't be here if her sense of self-preservation was fully intact.

"Then cut the crap and tell me who you are and what you want from me."

That smile of his faltered for just a second. "Nes, it's Cassian. Do— Do you not know who I am?"

"If you are who I think you are, then I'm not nearly drunk enough for this conversation."

Nesta wasn't sure what she expected, but not for him to laugh or the way the sound of it warmed her. There was no mocking edge to it, and she found herself wanting to hear it again.

"That makes two of us."

Nesta stared at him over the rim of her glass, one eyebrow arched. "Does it?"

"Yes. I've spent most of the day trying to figure out how to get back home," he said, raking a hand through his long hair. If he wasn't really a book character come to life, he was certainly insane, but a traitorous part of Nesta wished it was her hand doing that, just so she could see if his hair was as soft as it looked.

"Home?"

He gave her a look as if to say that she knew exactly what he meant, as preposterous as it was that his home could actually be the pages of a book. Nesta opened her mouth to say something in response, but the sharp sound of microphone feedback cut her off.

Whatever terrible local band was playing at the bar that night was about to begin their set.

"We should move this conversation somewhere a bit quieter," Nesta said, then cringed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She hadn't intended for it to sound like such a come-on.

Cassian smiled at her again, and there was a hunger in his eyes that Nesta was all too familiar with. And well, hadn't she come here to find a bastard who'd look at her just like that?

"Moving a bit fast, aren't you, Nes? I didn't take you for that kind of girl."

Nesta scowled as she reached for her purse to pay the tab. Her voice was low and dangerous as she hissed, "You don't know a single thing about me."

When she was finished, Cassian left the bar with her. Nesta half-expected to feel a possessive hand on the exposed skin of her back, but Cassian just walked beside her, keeping a respectful distance. The only thing she felt was the cold night air.

Nesta led the way to a park a couple of blocks away, somewhere they could sit and talk without having to shout. For a long moment, the only sound was her heels clicking against the pavement. But when it was clear Cassian seemed intent on following her lead, she said, "You owe me an explanation. Start explaining, then."

Cassian ran his hand through his hair again, something that she remembered him constantly doing throughout the book. To Nesta, it had been a clear sign the book needed a better editor—the author had the same three overused gestures the characters made constantly.

"To be honest, that's what I was hoping you could help with. Everything back home was normal, but when I woke up this morning, I knew I wasn't there. Something brought me here," Cassian said.

He paused as they waited for a light to change, but Nesta didn't say anything, just crossed her arms. Even if what Cassian was saying was true (which she doubted), there was nothing she could help with.

"Everything was just so much more…vivid. I knew I had to be in the real world. And since the other Nesta—my Nesta—was based on someone real, I figured my best bet was to try and find you," Cassian continued.

Nesta couldn't hold back a sneer at the mention of the version of her that existed in the book. Cassian had probably been expecting someone sweet, friendly, and shy—not a shark out for blood at a dive bar.

At least he'd been nice enough not to voice his disappointment. It was better treatment than she deserved.

"And now what?" Nesta said, sinking down onto the nearest bench as they arrived at the park. This late, it was mostly deserted. Other than a few other couples out for a stroll and a man walking his dog, they were alone. "I don't have anything for you."

Cassian sighed. "I don't know. Could I at least see the book? Obviously, I know the plot, but I've actually never seen the cover."

That, at least, she could do for him. Nesta hadn't bothered to take the book out of her bag before she'd left for the bar, so she pulled it out and handed it to him. At the sight of the cover—a stock photo of a muscular, shirtless man—Cassian grimaced.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he said.

"Looks like it."

It was a shame they were out in public because Nesta would have liked nothing more than to get his shirt off to compare. It was clear Cassian was muscular under the jean jacket he was wearing, but Nesta wanted to see for herself. As baffling as this all was, the man was still gorgeous.

As Cassian flipped through the pages and skimmed, Nesta took the opportunity to ogle him a bit. That strong jawline just begged for her to run a finger from one end to the other, and this close, she could spot the green flecks in his hazel eyes.

She watched as his grimace became more pronounced the more he read. Eventually, he shut the book with a shake of his head. "Damn Nes," he said, "I didn't realize the writing was so bad. That smut is…." He trailed off as if he didn't have a word to describe it.

Privately, Nesta agreed, though she'd never admit that anywhere there was even the slightest chance that it might get back to Elain. Her sister wasn't a big reader, and the gift was thoughtful, in a way.

Instead, she just said coolly, "The book didn't mention anything about you reading smut. What made you such an expert?"

Cassian shrugged. "You get curious about what's going on in the other books in your genre, and I'm not as much of a meathead as I look."

"Tell me the last five books you read," Nesta commanded, the challenge clear in her voice.

Cassian listed them off without hesitation, and when he was done, Nesta had to admit to herself that he really was just as much of a romance reader as her. It caught her off-guard—she was used to being mocked for it, especially by men. But the jibes about too-perfect shirtless men and velvet-wrapped steel never came.

Instead, she found herself swapping recommendations with a man who'd stepped out of a book, but the most unbelievable part was how well their tastes aligned. They shared some favorite authors, re-read the same scenes over and over, and got irritated by the same tired tropes and turns of phrase.

But as the night dragged on and the temperature dropped, Nesta started to shiver in her short, open-backed dress. She put on a brave face, even as her teeth chattered.

Cassian pulled his jacket off and handed it to her. Nesta didn't take it. "Are you familiar with the saying 'a ho doesn't get cold'?" she said.

"It's yours if you want it," Cassian said, dropping the jacket in her lap. It was still warm from the heat of him. "But at least let me get you home safe."

If he wanted to go back to her place and fuck her, Nesta wished he'd just be honest about it. Keeping her out of the cold, making sure she got home safely—it was the kind of care she didn't deserve. Maybe he didn't realize that.

"I can get home on my own," she said, tossing the jacket back at him. Cassian snatched it out of the air before it smacked him in the face.

"You can," he said, "but you don't have to. And I want to know you're alright. It's late."

He just seemed so genuine; Nesta didn't know what to make of it. Everything about him was so unlike the men who just wanted her for a quick fuck.

She sighed. "Alright. Come home with me, then."

Cassian's shoulders slumped in relief as Nesta called a cab. Once they were up and moving, she warmed up a little bit. Cassian walked next to her, hands in his pockets.

"You're so different from her," he said, half to himself.

Nesta had no idea who he could possibly be talking about. "Her?" "The Nesta I know from the book. "

"I'm sure you want to get back to her," Nesta said, crossing her arms. She braced herself for a mention of how much he missed the sweet, shy girl from the book.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair for what seemed like the millionth time that night. "Not really," he said. "Not after meeting you. Sure, you've got some rough edges she doesn't, but that makes you real. Nothing compares to that."

Nesta didn't know what to say. Cassian was looking at her with a little bit of awe, and no one ever looked at her like that. For once, she was too thrown off to find the words for a typical bitter reply.

Before she really understood what she was doing, Nesta was reaching for his face and pulling it down to hers. Cassian's lips were just as soft as the book as described, and the kiss was gentle.

But Nesta Archeron didn't do gentle.

She slid her hands back from his face, tangled her fingers in his hair, and pulled just a bit. For half a second, she thought he might yelp and step back, but it just seemed to draw him in more. The hands that had settled on her hips pulled them closer, so her body was flush with his. As Cassian's tongue swept into her mouth, Nesta decided she could stay here forever.

But a sharp honk from the taxi they hadn't noticed arrived jolted them back to reality. "You're staying the night," Nesta declared as she opened the car door.

Cassian didn't argue, though he had the good sense not to mention just yet that he was already considering ways he could stay for a hell of a lot longer than just the night.

[gendervapor14]

two fights for freedom ~ chapter seven: turning leaves, pruning trees

“I don’t want to owe him anything.” She clarified lowly, voice wavering on the cusp of breaking. “This goes beyond finances. When someone does something for you…you feel indebted to them. It’s human nature. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. I don’t want that pressure. I want to feel free. That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”

“That’s all anyone wants, Bell-mère.” Genzo grasped her shoulder to pull her up out of her slump. “But you’re never going to feel free if you keep carrying all this weight by yourself. You’re talking about human nature, but you’re forgetting one vital aspect. Togetherness. We’re not built to live on our own! Let us help you. And when you have the strength, you’ll be able to help us back with ease. You’ll enjoy helping. But the first step is acceptance.”

With a clogged sniff, Bell-mère nodded feebly. “You know I’ve been close to death, but…” When she met his eye, Genzo felt like he was bound to that chair. “Now it feels like I’ve been buried alive.”

“We’ll help you.” Genzo promised her sincerely, shaking her hand in a meager attempt to instill some confidence. “And you won’t be any less a mother because you accepted help from your friends.”

His words hit like a hammer to glass. Bell-mère stood and drove herself into his arms, nearly knocking him out of his chair. Luckily, he was spry enough to catch her and maintain their balance, although her cathartic sobs left him hurting anyway.

oops i forgot to post this on here again but chapter seven is up and ready to go! my work schedule may change soon by proxy of me quitting my horrible job so the posting schedule of this fic may also change. i'll keep ya'll posted.

title: two fights for freedom rating: M category: F/M, gen content warnings: graphic depictions of violence status: incomplete, seven chapters, 22,629 words relationship: rosinante/bell-mere, cora & law, rosinante & hatchan, bell-mere & rosinante & law & nami & nojiko, rosinante & genzo, bell-mere & genzo characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law, nami, nojiko, genzo, nako, hatchan, arlong, arlong pirates additional tags: canon divergent, fix-it, everybody lives, pre-arlong park, angst with a happy ending, angst and feels, fluff and humor, hurt/comfort, scheming, suggestive themes, sexual tension, limes (yes i'm bringing limes back), eventual smut, romance, slow burn, arguing, financial issues, broken bones, references to depression, referenced alcoholism, mental health issues, canon backstory, mentioned doflamingo, non-canon backstory (giving bell-mere a backstory), found family, medical inaccuracies, blood and injury, trafalgar d. water law is a little shit, developing friendships, past child abuse, more tags to be added later (?) summary: freedom for one means adventure. exploring all the world has to offer, while avoiding the occasional haunting. freedom for another almost costs an arm and two daughters. a home, a village. perhaps freedom is best sought back-to-back. {a cora and bell-mère lives au}

♥

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I��ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[plus-size-reader]

Creep pt.2

Victor Criss x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2424 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Victor finally gets the date he was so desperate for

Part 1 

—————————————————————————————————

He’d figured it out.

It took him all week, and he’d nearly burst a blood vessel while trying to figure out what it was he wanted to do, but Victor knew now.  

You specified that you wanted him to take you to dinner. That was what you wanted if you were going to believe that he had feelings for you, and he definitely did.

So, all he had to do was figure out was where to take a girl like you, a girl he really liked, without his friends ever finding out that the dinner date happened.

It was a tall order, but after all this time, he had an idea.

All he had to do was make sure that the guys were busy, and he would be free to take you anywhere he wanted. Then, as far as wooing you went, he already had a whole dinner date set up in the form of a picnic in the quarry.

There weren’t a lot of first date level restaurants around here that were any good, and the ones that were around, he certainly couldn’t afford or wasn’t allowed back into.

Most of the business owners in Derry were wary of the Bower’s gang, and they had been banned from most of the fancier establishments.

Hell, even the milkshake bar on the other side of town had threatened to have them arrested if they ever went back. Though, he sort of understood where they were coming from, after Henry spray painted some really obscene things on the side of their building.

Victor just hoped the saying was right, and the thought behind his evening with you would be enough to show you just how much you meant to him because the picnic he’d planned was pretty extensive.

He had gone out and picked up everything you could have wanted, aside from the burgers he was going to pick up right before picking you up at your house, so they wouldn’t get cold.

He had a blanket that he could spread out over the edge of the rock quarry, looking down over the water, and he even got these tiny little cakes from the bakery down the street that he figured you’d like.

Girls liked those kinds of things, he’d asked Belch.

All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty good date. The only thing Vic still had to do was figure out how to get the guys out of his hair for the night.

The worst thing he could possibly imagine happening would be Henry, Patrick, and to a lesser extent Belch, crashing your picnic and ruining his chances with you completely.

The blonde was already well aware that he was on thin ice with you, which was why this probationary date had to go well. He wanted to show you that he was capable of this.

That he was more than just some thug who made fun of pretty girls for their extra weight and relationship status, two things Henry went pretty hard at you for.

Henry and Patrick both liked to comment on how you would never have a boyfriend because of your size, and how you would probably die a virgin cause nobody would hit that.

In fact, there were very few things about you that the more alpha of his friends wouldn’t torment you for, something that, the more he thought about it, made Victor upset.

You had a point that day in the hall.

He had never really said anything nasty about you to your face, but he hadn’t stopped them from doing it either. He just stood back and let his friends treat you like the dirt beneath their boots.

It was hardly the foundation for a functional relationship, but he wanted to try. For now, all he could do was hope that he’d planned such an amazing date that it would make up for all those terrible things.

Thankfully, before Victor could further drive himself crazy, his three best, and only, friends came around the corner and made a B-line for him. This was it, if this went well, he would be home free for his date tonight.

...But if it didn’t, he had no idea how he was going to explain it to you.

There was no way you would give him a second chance if he cancelled your date to spend the night riding around in Belch’s Trans Am, listening to hair metal.

It had to happen tonight.

“Where have you been?” Belch asked, the only one of the three to even address him once they’d made it to his side.

Henry and Patrick continued to talk about whatever it was that had them so enthralled.

It wasn’t new, and didn’t even really bother Vic, but it was something he had never realized before. They didn’t even really seem to care if he was there or not, which he never would have noticed before talking to you.

Somehow you had managed to turn everything Victor knew upside down and he wasn't sure that he liked it. He wasn’t blind to the fact that his friends weren’t the best people before, but it had never hurt him to be around them.

They were the only friends he had, even if they weren’t the greatest guys of all time.

They were what he had.

“I had to run a few errands, no big deal” the blonde shrugged, hoping he’d done a good enough job at hiding his true intentions so that Belch wouldn’t ask any questions.

He wouldn’t have any answers for him if he did.

This whole thing was new to Vic, who had never really liked a girl this much in the first place, but he was doing what he thought would work. Lying, thankfully, wasn’t new to him.

At the very least, he could rely on his quick wit and the fact that two of the three of his friends couldn’t have been more oblivious to what he was doing and the third wasn’t the brightest to begin with.

It was starting to look like his little scheme would actually work.

Belch didn’t pry any further, something that Victor was glad for, and before it could get any more awkward or he gave himself a stroke, he asked what he’d been trying to ask for days, but didn’t have the nerve to.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

He tried to make it as nonchalant and casual as he could, as if he was just inquiring about the plans he knew they had indefinitely.

Even if the four of them were just going to walk around Henry’s property, or terrorize kids in the park, they always did something together. It wasn’t the sort of question that should have roused any suspicion.

Still, Vic couldn’t help but feel like his entire plot was unraveling at the seams and it was only a matter of time before the gang found out what he was doing and slaughtered him.

It wouldn't go over well. “Nothing, I gotta take care of some things for my pop, so you three girls are on your own” Henry shrugged, not offering any more explanation than that. Whatever it was, if Butch was involved, they knew not to press it.

Though, Victor already felt a little better knowing that Henry wouldn’t be skulking around, potentially finding the two of you in the woods.

Henry already had it out for you more than anyone else because of that time he asked you to see a movie with him and you said no. That rejection had really stuck a bur in his side, and it surely had something to do with his cruelty toward you now.

He wasn’t used to hearing no, after all.

Patrick and Belch had other plans too, it seemed, not really interested in hanging out with any of the others of them without Henry. If it wasn’t the whole gang, it was weird for them.

So, it seemed like Victor was in the clear.

All he had to do now was show you the time of your life and hope that you actually gave him a chance. A girl like you should have never even agreed to go out with him in the first place, so he wasn’t going to ruin it.

You deserved the best, and he was doing all he could to provide it.

~

Vic was sure he’d never been this nervous in his entire life.

Before now, he’d been so preoccupied worrying about the threat of the gang finding out what he was doing, or you changing your mind and rejecting him that he hadn’t given any thought at all to how this would feel.

Waiting for you to get here was going to kill him.

All Victor could think about was whether or not you were coming, or if something had happened to you on the way here. Maybe you decided that this wasn’t a good idea and were staying home, or worse, maybe you had another date.

Whatever it was, it was taking you way too long to get here and every second that passed by, he was sure you weren’t going to show.

You had stopped him in the hallway after the last bell rang, signalling the end of the day, and told him that you would meet him in the Quarry, because he didn’t drive, which didn’t seem like that big of a deal at first.

No good first date had even begun by walking awkwardly in silence through the woods, and it was smart to meet up for the more romantic parts of the evening. However, now that it was here, Vic had to wonder if it was all some clever ploy to leave him in the quarry alone.

It seemed cruel, but after everything he and the guys had done to you, it would be a lie to say that he didn’t deserve it.

He couldn’t have blamed you if you hated him.

Thankfully though, as the sun began creeping down and the air cooled that much more under the waterfront’s influence, you came walking up the path.

You had to admit that when he first suggested coming to the Quarry this late in the evening, you weren’t sure. It still seemed like this whole thing could be some joke, or something put on by Henry to humiliate you.

After all, Victor was the most unassuming of the four of them and if you were going to agree to go out with any of the Bower’s gang, it would have been him.

You just weren’t sure how to feel.

...but you were relieved to see Victor, right where he said he’d been, sitting on a beach towel or something.

It didn’t seem like a set up for a prank, but you weren’t fully convinced until you reached his side and saw the huge set up he’d spread out for you, right on the edge of the cliff.

You were far enough back to avoid falling off or dropping anything into the water below but close enough to see how pretty it was up here. You had never been here before, which had only solidified Victor’s plans to bring you.

The quarry was one of the only things in Derry that was worth seeing, and the fact that you’d lived here this long and still hadn’t come up here was blasphemous to him.

“Hey, I was getting worried you wouldn’t come” Vic called, the first to speak between the two of you. He did his best to play it off like a joke but it seemed like you knew how nervous he was.

Of course you did.

You were nervous to do this too.

Putting yourself out there wasn’t really something you did often or were good at, and you felt like you had taken a huge risk in agreeing to do this with him. However, as far as dates went, this really was worth the risk.

No one had ever gone through so much trouble just to impress you.

“You get stood up often?” you teased, sitting down on the spot across from him which you assumed was meant for you. It would have been sort of strange if he was waiting on someone else too.

It was a joke of course, but what you didn’t know was that he had. In general, Vic didn’t date too often just because he didn’t have a great history with this sort of thing.

He wasn’t exactly a ladies man after all.

“Sometimes” he shrugged, hoping that wouldn’t scare you off. It was much more honest than he was used to being, with anyone, but for some reason, you brought it out of him.

The two of you seemed to bring something different out of each other and as strange as it was for both of you, it was nice.

Victor, for one, felt like he could be who he was around you. It didn’t matter how vulnerable or goofy he wanted to be, there wasn’t going to be any awful consequences like there would be with the gang.

You didn’t seem to care if he wanted to be a geek.

“That’s okay. Me too” you shrugged, grabbing one of the cans of soda he offered you.

Your admission made him laugh, of course, because he assumed that you were joking, but after a few seconds of silence, he realized just how wrong he’d been.

You were completely serious, but that didn’t make any sense to him. You were beautiful and the fact that you had been stood up on a date didn’t compute for him.

Who in their right mind would have skipped out on a date with you? Victor certainly wouldn’t have, even considering how difficult you had made getting here for him.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad they were so stupid because now you’re here with me” he sighed, doing his best to keep from looking you in the face after saying something like that but you were happy he had.

That was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to you and as shocked as you were that he was the one saying it, you weren’t going to argue.

“I’m glad too. You’re surprisingly sweet, Vic” you allowed, taking a sip of your drink without much more between the two of you. This was hardly where you saw the evening going, but it was for the better.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

[babymetaldoll]

Family probation period (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Requested: Yes 

Summary: Matthew Gray Gubler meets his girlfriend’s family on Christmas eve. Just one detail: none of them knew she was dating. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abusive relationships 

Category: Fluff

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Wordcount: 3,5K

A/N: A late Christmas story, but I think we are still in the holiday season... right? also: requests are officially open

Masterlist 

- 

- "Are you sure about this?"- (Y/N) looked at Matthew and he nodded with a huge grin on his face. They were parked outside her parent’s house. They had driven from Los Angeles to San Francisco to spend Christmas Eve with them. 

- "Why not? I bet they are gonna love me"- he answered with his “Matthew Gray Gubler’s certified to make you drop your panties smile.”

- "I don’t know, I’m nervous"

- "Well missy, it was your idea to drop by your parents and surprise them with the news of your adorable boyfriend, so?"- (Y/N) smiled and nodded. 

- "And you thought it was a great idea, by the way, that's why you are here"

- "Yeah"- Gubler sighed and looked outside- "Why do you still trust my good judgment?" 

- "Well…"- (Y/N) looked at me and bit her lips- "You are very convincing"- he smiled and kissed her lips softly.

- "It's gonna be ok, they love you, I love you, which means we are gonna get along"- she nodded and smiled. 

- "Alright, I'll pretend that makes sense"- Gubler chuckled and kissed her again

- "Let's do this, Bunny".

-

Matthew and (Y/N) had been dating for over ten months. At first, they decided to take things slow, get to know each other better, try to make things work with their crazy schedules. But soon, they realized they had fallen in love, and “taking things slow” was not their thing. 

(Y/N) had decided to wait for the right moment to tell her parents she had found someone. Her last relationship had been a nightmare, and she knew her family (especially her brother) was going to be apprehensive about her new boyfriend. However, she was eager to tell them how happy she was with Matthew and how great he was with her. 

He was, hands down, the best boyfriend she had ever had. He was sweet and thoughtful. Sure, he wasn’t perfect. He would forget many things 'cos his head was in hundredth places at once (she was almost sure he had ADHD). And sometimes it felt she had a boyfriend and a son all wrapped in the same 6 ft adorable manchild she was dating. But still, he was the best boyfriend.

She was hoping her parents and family would see he made her happy.   

-

- “Ok, here we go”- Matthew rang the bell and turned to (Y/N), excited. She laughed and opened the door.

- “I still got my key.”

- “Right.”

- “Hello? Mom? Dad?”- she took a step inside and looked around. Her father stood up from the couch quickly and nearly ran to the door.

- “Peanut! You are home!”

Matthew smiled and held their bags staring at the scene. In all the time they had been together, he had heard a lot about (Y/N)’s parents. She loved them deeply, and he knew she wanted to share their relationship with them.

Her last boyfriend was an abuser, he hit her, and she kept it from everybody for months before breaking up. That’s why he could understand why her family would be apprehensive. And he was ready to show them how much he loved her.

- “My baby is home!”- (Y/N)’s mom appeared from the kitchen and hugged her daughter, who was still wrapped in her father’s embrace. 

- “Guys! I can’t breathe!”- she pretended to be suffocating and giggled. 

- “Too bad! You are never home! So bear with it!”- her father chuckled and kissed the top of her head 

- “By the way, (Y/N), who’s the man standing by the door?”- her mother asked and frowned, looking at Gubler. He smiled and waved, making his best to look as nice as possible. 

- “Guys, I want you to meet Matthew Gray Gubler… my boyfriend.”

And the silence in the room was as thick and uncomfortable as possible.

- “Hello”- Gubler smiled and shook their hands- “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N) talks so much about you”- but neither of them knew what to say. 

- “Guys, it’s ok, he is a good guy”- (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Matthew, and he immediately kissed the top of her head. 

- “Did I hear my sister has a new boyfriend?”- footsteps coming down the stairs surprised the couple, and (Y/N) wide opened her eyes immediately.

- “Adam!! You are home!!”- she hugged her brother so tight, he couldn’t help but laugh.

- “I’ve got the feeling you missed me.”

- “So fucking much!! When did you get home?”

- “Last night, mom said you’d be coming for Christmas, so I thought I could surprise you.”

- “And where are my nephews? I wanna spoil my babies!”

- “With Emma getting the last few things mom needed from the grocery’s, but they should be here any minute. I missed you, kitty.”

Adam kissed her forehead and looked at her sweetly. It was clear he loved and cared about his little sister. But as soon as his eyes reached Matthew, his whole face changed. 

- “And who is this?”  

- “This is my boyfriend, Matthew”- (Y/N) walked back to Gubler and held his hand- “He is awesome, so be nice, ok?”

- “Nice to meet you, Adam. (Y/N) talks so much about you. I was looking forward to meeting you”- Matthew shook his hand and smiled. 

- “Funny, she never mentioned you.”

- “Yeah,”- (Y/N) explained- “I wanted to give you guys a surprise, and I knew if I told you over the phone, you were going to stress out, so I thought it would be better if you just met him”

Her family nodded but didn’t look pretty convinced. 

- “I know you are all real apprehensive about (Y/N) having a new boyfriend, but I promise you, I’m nothing like her ex, and I wanna show you how much I care for her if you let me.”

Gubler was sincere and upfront. (Y/N)’s parents nodded, but her brother just crossed his arms and frowned.  

- “Adam, be nice”- she warned and grabbed her bag- “Let’s leave these in my room, Gub.”

- “You are not sharing rooms with a boy!”- her brother instantly replied, but she ignored him and walked upstairs. Matthew took the bags from her hands and followed her.

-

- “Sorry”- (Y/N) whispered and closed her eyes, embarrassed. Gubler left the bags on the floor of her room and walked towards her to hold her hands. 

- “Hey, it’s ok, they are just shocked,”- he whispered and smiled at her, trying his best to make her feel better. 

- “I would be shocked too if our daughter walks into our house and tells us she has been dating nearly a year with some guy I’ve never heard about.”

(Y/N) chuckled and sighed. The words “Our daughter” had been enough to make her forget everything that troubled her. The idea of a future with him was too sweet to worry about anything else. 

- “Now, back to what really matters here”- Gubler took a look around and pointed at the walls- “Did you have some kind of obsession with My Chemical Romance growing up, or is it just me?”

- “Eh… nope”- she simply answered and laughed. There were many posters of the band on every wall in that room. 

- “I don’t know, I’m getting the vibe you had a thing on that guy… he kinda looks like a vampire.”

- “Gerard? he was…”- (Y/N) made a pause and looked at the walls- “I had a little crush on him”

- “Little?”- Gubler raised an eyebrow

- “Yeah, just a little, nothing to worry about… I just wanted to marry him, that’s all.”- he chuckled and leaned in to kiss her.  

- “I guess you never know someone until you walk into their teenage room.”

Matthew was nervous, but he was never going to face it. He wanted to make a good impression, and he wanted (Y/N)’s parents to like him. He was in that relationship for the long run, and it was important for him to have her parent’s approval. And clearly, now her brother’s too.

-

- “So, Matthew, what do you do?”- Adam asked him as everybody gathered in the kitchen, drinking eggnog and setting the last few things for the Christmas dinner. 

- “I majored in film directing in New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts"- (Y/N) bit her lips and smiled. She was torn between feeling embarrassed and enjoying the moment.  

- “Film directing”- Adam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. 

- “Yeah, I always loved making movies and telling stories”- Gubler sipped his cup of coffee and smiled. 

- “But, do you have a regular job?”- Adam asked and raised an eyebrow- “Making movies doesn’t sound like a real job to me.”

- “Adam!”- (Y/N) looked at her brother with daggers in her eyes

- “What? I’m getting to know your boyfriend, isn’t that what you wanted?”

- “Yes, but you don’t have to be a dickhead”- the young woman walked a few steps closer to her brother and raised an eyebrow- I haven’t seen you in six months. Can you just be nice?”

Adam meant no harm, but he was worried. He had been the one his sister called after her ex-boyfriend hit her. He had been the one who took her out from that apartment, picked up her things, and took care of her. Of course, he was scared she might get hurt again. 

-

- “And where are you from?”- (Y/N)’s mom asked him as they all walked to the living room and sat down. 

- “Las Vegas,”- Matthew answered and smiled- “My family still lives there, and we visit as often as we can.”

- “So, you’ve met his family”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) looked at her daughter and raised an eyebrow, surprised. 

- “Yeah, they are the best! We spent Halloween with them this year. We took Matthew’s nephews trick and treating. It was really fun!”

Mrs. (Y/L/N) nodded and stared at the scene. Gubler was sitting next to her daughter, holding her hand and looking at her in honest and deep adoration. It was strange and shocking, but at the same time, she could feel he was a nice guy who loved her very much. And that was all she needed to know. 

Meanwhile, Mr. (Y/L/N) started asking Gubler questions about his family, school, and what he did for a living. 

- “Right now, I have an acting job.” 

- “Really?”- (Y/N)’s brother raised an eyebrow, surprised- “TV?”

- “Yeah.”

Adam was about to keep asking about it when his wife, Emma, walked in with their five-year-old twins.   

- “Aunt (Y/N)!!

- “Munchkins!”- the young woman opened her arms and hugged them at the same time as the kids held her legs tight, almost making her fall.

- “You are so big! why aren’t you two babies anymore?”

- “(Y/N)! hey”- Emma walked over and looked at her, but suddenly she just gasped. 

- “What?”- Adam asked, confused- “What is it?”

- “Oh shit!”- she nearly dropped the bag and wide opened her eyes, suddenly- “Why is Spencer Reid in our living room?”

Matthew looked at (Y/N), and neither of them knew what to do or say. So he just stood up and walked over to shake her hand. 

- “Hi, I’m Matthew, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

- “No freaking way!”- Emma whispered and held his hand, repeating a little slowlier- “No freaking way”. 

Adam looked at his wife and didn’t understand a word she was saying. His parents didn’t get what was going on, and (Y/N) just bit her lips, trying not to laugh. She never thought that could happen. 

- “I’m gonna put an eye on dinner…”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) said and stood up- “(Y/N), can you give me a hand?”

- “Sure mom”- she said and smiled at Gubler. He winked and watched her walking to the kitchen with her mom. Things were a little weirder than he thought. 

- “Ok, what was that?”

- “What was what, mom?

- “Emma nearly died when she saw Matthew. Why?”

- “‘Cos he is in a tv show and she recognized him, I think”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) looked at her and sighed.

- “Is he good with you?”

- “The best”

- “‘Cos he looks like he is a nice guy”

- “I swear, mom, he is the sweetest. He wanted to come and meet you to show you he is nothing like Bret”- (Y/N) held a bowl with roasted potatoes and smiled at her mother- “I love him”

- “You can tell… and he loves you too, especially if he is willing to put up with your brother”

- “Can you tell Adam to stop being an ass?”

- “I can tell him, but that won’t stop him”.

-

When (Y/N) walked to the dining room, she looked at her boyfriend, who was now sitting on the floor, doing magic tricks for her nephews. She felt her heart was about to burst, staring at the scene. The twins were laughing, and Gubler kept making pennies disappear in front of them. 

She couldn’t stop hearing his voice saying “our daughter” over and over again. It was a dream, and it was too soon to even think about it, but it felt so right. It made so much sense.

- “I like him”- her father’s voice took her from her thoughts and forced her to turn around

- “Really?”

- “Yeah… he’s good with kids, and it’s clear he loves you, that’s all I need to know”- he kissed the top of his daughter’s head and sighed. 

- “Your brother hates him though”

- “I kind of figured”

- “The fact Emma is drooling over him is not making things better”- (Y/N) looked at her father and just laughed.

- “Are you kidding me?”

- “No, he took her upstairs to cool her off”

- “Shit… well, it could be worst” 

- “How?”- she looked at her father in silence

- “Well… Adam hasn’t tried to kick him out”

- “Yet”- Mr. (Y/L/N) chuckled at his own joke and shook his head- “Don’t worry peanuts, Matt is safe”. 

- “Actually, can you not call him Matt, please? bad memories.”

- “Sure, Matthew it is?”- she nodded and smiled. 

- “Thanks dad”

-

- “Dinner is ready”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) announced after half an hour. She walked to the living room where Adam, Matthew, and her husband were talking. 

Gubler was having a good time talking with Mr. (Y/L/N). He was fun and kept telling her funny stories about (Y/N). Adam was still a dick, but at least his father wasn’t paying him much attention, so neither did Gubler. 

- “This smells amazing”- Gubler said as he sat down next to (Y/N)- “I’m guessing this is Mrs. (Y/L/N) ’s signature turkey recipe. (Y/N) talked about it the whole way over.” 

- “She has the recipe, by the way, if you like it, she can cook it for you”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) smiled proudly.  

- “Yeah, just make sure she won’t burn down the house”- Adam joked and felt his sister’s angry eyes on him- “What? I’m making an aimless conversation. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

- “Shut up”

- “She is a great baker”- Matthew continued talking- “She is actually making me gain weight in the latest months”

- “Sure, like you could get fat”- (Y/N) snorted and looked at her boyfriend

- “Hey, you are making me eat cinnamon rolls, cake, and cookies like three times a week”- Gubler chuckled and looked at her- “My pants almost don’t close”

- “So, Matthew”- Emma said suddenly- “How did you two meet?”

- “He actually said I smelled like cinnamon rolls the first time he met me”- (Y/N) smiled and looked at her sister in law.

- “We met at a party, her friend Ana is dating my friend Charlie. And when I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her ‘cos she has the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen”- Emma was nearly sighing at those words.

- “And did you recognize him?”- Adam was embarrassed by his wife’s questions, but he couldn’t stop her. 

- “No, I had never seen the show…”

- “And do you know the rest of the cast now? Do you hang out?”- Adam looked at Emma and frowned- “What? I’m just asking”

(Y/N) blushed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and felt her boyfriend’s hand on hers, knowing what she was about to say. 

- “So, we are here today because I wanted you to know Matthew. He is the best guy on earth, and he makes me happy every day”- she made a pause and looked at him. 

- “You make me happy too, Bunny”- he whispered and smiled. 

- “Ok, so you are in love, is that what you wanted to tell us?”- Adam said with an annoyed voice.

- “No, we wanted to tell you we are moving in together.”

(Y/N) bit her lips after delivering the news. Her parents looked at each other but didn’t seem mad, just surprised. Adam, on the other hand, frowned immediately. 

- “Before you start freaking out and yell at me,”- Matthew said with a soft voice- “I need you to know and understand how much I love your sister, and I would never hurt her in any way. Never.”

Her family looked at him in silence. Her father nodded and smiled. 

- “It’s clear you are a good guy, Matthew,”- he said, and (Y/N) sighed, feeling relieved to hear those words- “And I know you understand we will always be a little scared something bad might happen to our baby again.”

- “I completely understand. I just want you to know I will never hurt her. I love her, I wanna live with her. I’m here for the long run, and I wish you could all give me a chance”. 

(Y/N) felt like crying when she heard those words. Matthew was telling her family how much he loved her. He was showing them he wanted to be with her. Nothing could be better than that. 

- “And have you thought about where you’ll live?”- her mother asked, smiling.

- “I recently bought a house,”- Matthew explained- “We are planning to move in after the holidays. Meanwhile, we’ve been busy getting a few things we needed”- he looked so happy, no one could doubt he was excited with the plans. 

- “Listen”- no one but Adam, apparently- “If anything happens to my sister, I’m gonna hunt you, I will find you, and I will make you pay.” 

- “Adam…”- she tried to argue, but Gubler smiled at her and nodded

- “I know there is nothing I can say that will make you believe me, so I will just ask you to give me the chance to show you how much I love her.”- but Adam didn’t say a word. 

- “I know what happened to her was awful, and I know you don’t want anyone hurting her, but that’s not what I wanna do. I just wanna make her happy. If she wants me to.”

Adam looked at his sister, who had tears in her eyes. He couldn’t bear to see her cry, though those weren’t sad tears. She looked at Matthew, and he smiled at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and kissing her lips sweetly for a second. He whispered, “I love you,” and she giggled. 

- “Oh come on!”- Mr. (Y/L/N)- “Even I can see he loves your sister! stop being a dick and be happy for them!”- Adam sighed at his father’s words and stood up.  

- “If you fuck it up, you are dead”- he said and reached out his hand to Gubler- “But I trust you won’t”- and Matthew quickly stood up and shook it. 

- “I know you just want to take care of her, and I completely understand that”

- “You are in family probation period.” 

(Y/N) smiled at her brother, and he winked at her. Finally, she sighed, relieved. 

- “I can’t believe you are gonna move in with Dr. Reid!!”- Emma almost shrieked

- “Please don’t”- Adam frowned and looked at his wife- “Don’t make this harder”

- “You are gonna have to watch the show with me, you are gonna love it. I swear you won’t be able to hate him once you know Reid”

(Y/N) looked at Matthew and whispered in his ear. 

- “Your family wasn’t embarrassing. Mine was. I’m sorry”- he nearly laughed at those words and shook his head. 

- “My friends are embarrassing if it counts”

- “Your friends are my friends, Gubler”

- “Fine, we have embarrassing friends, we are gonna have to live with it”

Gubler moved a little closer, and was ready to kiss her when Adam’s voice stopped him. 

- “Just don’t make out with my sister in front of me while you are on probation, dude!”

- “Sorry!”- Gubler nearly jumped on his chair, and (Y/N) chuckled- “Sorry!”. 

[softcallofdutyimagines]

The crew with their soulmate headcannons

Ok, to make it up to y'all for the angst yesterday, here's a response to the death by broken heart post 😌

This one goes out to @smokeywhalee since I've had her crying for the past like three posts 💀💀😂 I also snuck in a little something to the Weaver one for @direwolfspostsrandomshit and I specifically 😌💅🏻

No warnings, just a very long post and lots of fluff lol

Adler

You two met when he was still young, before he even joined the CIA

Back when he was a goofy, carefree kid who didn't know better

You've been with him through so much by now, that he knows he can always count on you when something's bothering him

There's no one he trusts more in the whole world

Adler knew you were the one around the time he got his scars

He thought for sure you'd leave him, thinking he looked like some kind of monster with half his face bandaged and bloodied like it is

But when he came home from the hospital, you were so overjoyed to see him again, it's like the bandages weren't even there

You kissed his face and helped him clean and dress the stitches and cuts everyday until they healed

With you there to give him all that affection, he's never let his scars make him feel any less then handsome

Of course, it doesn't hurt that you remind him often

Even now, he never tires of you kissing his scars

Hudson

You and Hudson met in college, back when he was a shy, nerdy outcast

It's not like you were exactly popular, but you at least had some social circles to run in

He never thought someone like you would even look twice at someone like him, but...

He's been wrong before

One day you decided to give him a chance, maybe just see what his story is, and you've never looked back since

Hudson's life path calls for the utmost secrecy for nearly everything, and you've lost contact with a handful of people because of it

But you've never complained

If anything, you consider it their loss for losing you

That's how Hudson knew you were the one

You have an undefeatable, never give up attitude and can find the silver lining in just about everything you put your mind to

And of course... You indulge him in his love of head rubs

It's you and his best kept secret of all

Lazar

You've known each other since you were just kids

For him, it was puppy love at first sight, and he was crushing hard before he knew it

But... He was always insecure about his weight, being a bit chunky as a kid and all

He was afraid of rejection because of it

A shame really, since you would've loved him no matter what

But as fate would have it, you stayed friends all the way up until highschool where sports had him shedding weight like crazy

All the fluctuation has left him with stretch marks, some loose skin, and a belly pouch, but luckily growing up gave him enough confidence to make up for it

He asked you to the senior dance your last year of highschool, and later that night you shared your first kiss behind the bleachers outside

You were his first kiss ever

Lazar always knew you were the one

You've been his closest friend and biggest supporter since you were kids on a playground

He just wanted to make himself feel worthy of you first

No one else makes him feel as comfortable in his skin as you do, and only you are allowed the special honor of touching his body

A gift you exercise frequently when you cuddle him at night

Mason

Alex didn't meet you until after Vietnam and the whole... brainwashing business

After trying and trying for years only to end up with an ever growing list of failed relationships, he just assumed he was too damaged to love

Besides, he's getting a bit older now... Maybe he's just not meant to find someone

Or so he thinks

He meets you randomly in public, on an ordinary day in an ordinary place

You two happen to hit a conversation and it just keeps going and going...

Until finally you exchange numbers and begin seeing each other more frequently

And that's when Alex knows you're the one, he can just... feel it deep down

But it isn't until one, vulnerable night, when he tells you about his past and the war and.... Well, everything, that he knows for sure

With so much fear being pushed about the Russian threat and all that, he thought for sure the knowledge that he's been a brainwashed sleeper agent once would scare you away

It was a shock for sure, but... You aren't afraid of him, in fact, you feel sympathetic for his plight of anything

Alex doesn't need your sympathy, mind, but he is thankful for the empathy

That's all he wants, really

That, and someone who'll hold him through the nightmares at night

Looks like he lucked out there too :)

Park

She met you as a fellow agent through MI6

Things were purely professional for a looooong time

But she must admit though, you're quite charismatic, cunning, and frankly?

Adorable

Helen's not quite sure when the joking, friendly flirting turned serious but...

She's glad for it

You ask her out on a date first and things go well

More then well

She doesn't kiss and tell, but let's just say... She knows you're the one

You always have her back on the field and off

You're her closest friend and confident

She's breaking the rules by cluing you in on the goings on with the hunt for perseus and all, but there's no one here she trusts more for feedback and brainstorming

But it's probably a good thing you're not in the safehouse, considering you almost killed someone after the skyhook debacle

She rolls her eyes at your fussing, but you swear to never let her go again

And you know what? Park may not show it, but she loves how much you care for her

Perseus

He met you back in the ussr, when he still looked like his picture

You two grew close in your service to the government, and you were one of the first people he trusted to try and recruit for his operation

When you didn't even hesitate to say yes, that's when he knew you were the one

You've already proven yourself and impressed him with your wit and integrity in your service to the ussr

In fact, few have ever stood out to him in such a way as you have

All he needed to know was if you trusted him and truly believed in a better future

Many are jelous to see you running around with the exceptionally handsome man, but perseus was never one to get hung up on looks

However, he's glad you enjoy his appearance as much as you do his mind

Together, you raise hell for the capitalists, bringing a true biting edge to the cold war threat

In return for your loyalty, he does all he can to keep you a secret, both as his lover and his accomplice

If anything happened to you like what happened to Bell...

He would take the fight to your captors himself

And they wouldn't stand a chance...

Weaver

He met you through working in Requiem

You're one of the strike team operators, but you spend a fair amount of time talking with the consultants and himself back at base

Weaver finds you a little intimidating, but in a good kind of way

Sort of how he use to be back in the day

When he realizes he may or may not have a little thing for you, he suddenly becomes very shy

He's afraid to try and make a move on you because surely rejection would be the only outcome?

After all, he's way too far past his prime by now, missing an eye and slowly letting himself fall out of shape

It's a mess

So why haven't you just moved on from him yet...?

Doctor Grey seems strangely invested in this little one sided romance, so with a bit of help, he manages to ask you out for coffee

The last thing he expected was for you to say yes

It's not until the day that you almost don't make it back to base that he realizes how very much you mean to him

Weaver stays with you as frequently as he can while you recover and can often be found cuddling you in your med bay bed (bc why the hell not?) or at home

He has to pull back a little on visiting you in the med bay however

He's starting to get teased for how much he loves all the head pets, jaw scratches, and tummy rubs you give him while you're bored and resting

Carver has now begun addressing him as "Fido" with no end in sight

Woods

He meets you out at the marine base he spends all his time at

It was one of the many occasions that he was doing target practice at the range, and he today he's caught you watching him

At first he honestly didn't think much of it, but of course he took the opportunity to show off a little

He succeeded in managing to lure you over with his skills, where you came to stroke his ego a bit

For that, he offers to show you some pointers and before either of you know it, target practice together becomes a regular occurance

From there, anything more social is up to you to initiate

He's a bit taken aback when you invite him out to do something off base sometime, but... He accepts

Once out of his element, he's like a whole other person

You're surprised to find that he's a lot more shy and little more warm towards you

You find it adorable

That starts the slippery path to how he knows you're the one

You're the only person he truly feels like he can be himself with

Everyone else expects the hardened sargent, and while that is still him...

He never feels like he has an opportunity to share his softer side

You can never complain about being cold or lonely with him around

Frank loves nothing more then cuddling with you whenever and wherever he can

Not only is it just, well, nice, to have the human contact, but it makes him feel like he gets to protect you

And nothing makes him happier then to see you safe :)

[hawkinsindiana]

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous. 

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more. 

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose. 

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives. 

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him. 

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements. 

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat. 

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it. 

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth. 

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier. 

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore. 

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late. 

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth. 

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too. 

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.” 

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid. 

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets. 

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep. 

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.” 

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her. 

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise. 

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened. 

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time. 

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him. 

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms. 

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder. 

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention. 

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow. 

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction. 

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it. 

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for. 

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.” 

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.” 

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working. 

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it. 

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you. 

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?” 

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore. 

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here. 

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine. 

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.” 

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels. 

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else. 

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves. 

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain. 

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

—   taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

[flooffybits]

What Could Have Been

Idol: Jennie Kim (Blackpink), Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink) ft. Kim Yoohyeon (Dreamcatcher) & Jung Jinsoul (Loona)

@pricknim:  Hey there Floof! I was wondering if you could write a sequel to "When Actions Speak Louder" 👀. I really really enjoyed it, the angst was just the perfect amount, but I was lowkey hoping to see how Y/N, Jennie and Rose cope with the breakup. I just need to know, if Y/N managed to get their happy ending in the end TT *hint hint ;)* Also, I hope you are doing fine and stay hydrated :D

Part 1 is here

☕buy me a coffee☕

Jennie stared at the screen, feet swinging slightly as she watched her girlfriend wrap up her performance for the day. She wore a small smile on her face, feeling incredibly proud of the latter for her solo.

She knew just how difficult it was to promote without the rest of the girls, but they always did have each other. However, that thought had caused her smile to drop when she remembers the lack of presence inside the room.

Looking around, her gaze jumped from each of the staff’s faces as they busied around the room, fixing their equipment while some were happily watching the Australian’s performance with proud looks on their own faces.

When she looked to the couch you and Chaeyoung had previously occupied when she was promoting Solo, a slight sting came to her chest when the memories came flooding in. She didn’t know that she would ever be with either of you at the time, but it was right after that certain performance when her entire world lit up when you had both asked her if she would be alright with going out with you guys.

That was two years ago.

She had forced herself out of those thoughts, letting out a sigh as she refocused on the present. It’s been nearly a year since she’s last talked to you and while it was easy not having to be in the same vicinity as you, it was different when your face was just about everywhere.

While your group wasn’t promoting at the moment, you had been quite active with solo schedules. And while Chaeyoung has stopped trying to get a hold of you, Jennie has been keeping up to date with the things going on in your life, even if it was just from an outsider’s perspective.

She misses the good morning texts and the late night calls. And even when Chaeyoung refuses to even talk about you, she can see it in her girlfriend’s expression that she misses you, too. The only difference was that Chaeyoung decided that there was no dwelling on the past because it was you who let go of them.

But Jennie had taken a step back to understand just why everything ended the way it did.

They have neglected you. And what you told them that day was partially true. They had gotten so used to having you to fall back to that it didn’t seem like a relationship at all when it came to you.

And if she were to admit, it did look like you were only a bridge for her and Chaeyoung to have gotten together.

And she hated it.

When the realization dawned on her, Jennie felt sick to her stomach and she couldn’t find it in herself to look at Chaeyoung for a few days. And if the latter hadn’t stopped her, the entire relationship would have ended then and there.

She wonders why Chaeyoung didn’t fight for you the way she fought for her.

But Jennie doesn’t let herself wander farther away because her girlfriend was already bounding into the room with a wide smile stretched across her face, and Jennie can’t help but smile at the adorable expression that the younger girl wore.

“You did a great job, Rosie!” She praised, using a tissue to lightly pat her girlfriend’s forehead from the sweat that had built up on her skin after her performance. “You looked really great out there.” She adds and the younger girl giggled as she pecked her cheek. ”Well my baby was watching, of course I had to look good.”

Chaeyoung pressed another kiss to her cheek before she had to step away, retouch her makeup just so she didn’t look too tired for the announcing of the winner.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jennie hears before she’s tearing her gaze away from her phone. Chaeyoung offers her a small smile when she takes the seat next to her and the brunette hums softly before shaking her head. “I doubt my thoughts are worth a tiny penny.” She jokes and the taller of the two let out a snort before giving her a playful push.

“Then don’t tell me.” She chuckled and Jennie felt a little lighter with how carefree they could be at that moment. Ever since what happened with you, they’ll admit that their relationship had been rocky, but thankfully they were able to talk through whatever new issues arose.

Jennie went quiet for a while before she rubbed her arm, sighing as she finally spoke. “What made us so different?”

Of everything Chaeyoung expected to come from her girlfriend’s mouth, that was certainly not one of them.

“What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” Chaeyoung asked confusedly and Jennie pursed her lips, unsure how the other would react, but asked anyway. “Y/n. Why was it so easy to let go of her, but not me?”

The name had caused the younger girl to stiffen in her place and Jennie internally cringed when she saw the way her girlfriend’s expression hardened when she looked down. “Why are you bringing that up?” Chaeyoung muttered quietly and Jennie sighed in frustration.

“I know that it’s been months, and maybe you’ve moved on, but I just… I loved her, too. Maybe I still do.” She breathed out while running her fingers through her hair. “Why couldn’t you have fought for her to stay?” She asked, and Chaeyoung hates how her voice sounded so strained, so tired.

Deep down, she knew it was her fault though. Not having you around as much as she wanted, Chaeyoung prioritized Jennie and she devoted all of her time to the latter when she knew that she should have at least tried.

And she knows that she’s guilty. That was why she didn’t see herself having the right to stop you from walking out the door or asking you to come back to them.

“It was for the best.” She knows it’s bullshit, but Jennie wasn’t going to accept that answer, and she knows. “Y/n was right. We were drifting apart, and there wasn’t anything we could have done about it.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been together before I came into the picture, and I could see you were both doing fine.” Jennie retorted with a frown and Chaeyoung frowns, lips pressed together as she leaned back. “Things weren’t working, Jennie. You know that, she knows that. Can’t we just let it go?”

But Jennie wasn’t done. She wanted to know the truth, and she was determined to get it.

“Did you not love her anymore?”

Chaeyoung’s mouth went dry at the question and she clenched her jaw and inhaled sharply, an indication that her girlfriend had, in fact, hit a nerve. “Jennie, pleas-”

“I want to know, Chaeng. You can tell me that you’re done with it, but I’m telling you right now that there hasn’t been a day that I don’t hope to fix what we had.” Jennie stated firmly and the younger girl stared down at her hands as she laid them on her lap.

“Of course not… I never stopped loving her.”

As quiet as her voice may have been, it was enough for Jennie to hear.

..

“Are you ready to go?” Jennie asked while fixing the strap of her bag on her shoulder and Chaeyoung nibbled on her lower lip before nodding her head. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out. I just hope people can leave us in peace.” She sighed while fixing her mask on and then pocketing her wallet.

As risky as it was to head out, the girls needed a break, and luckily there would be no questions asked if the pair was ever spotted outside. They just needed some air and felt as though they were still humans and not robots.

“We’ll be fine. Plus, the place isn’t going to be crowded, I know a lot of other idols hang out there for some privacy.” Jennie assures with a smile. And even with the mask covering the lower part of her face, the way her eyes crinkle and her cheeks rise is enough of an indication for it.

Ever since their talk, it looked like things were a little easier for the two of them. Despite the nagging feeling at the back of her head, Chaeyoung had been more open with herself. Whatever was going through her mind, she could easily come to her older girlfriend without hesitation anymore.

So giving themselves a chance, the pair decided that a little date outside the dorm would be a good idea.

Though as soon as they arrived, there seemed to already be a handful of people in the area. However, seeing as no one approached either of them yet, the pair proceeded to the counter to place their orders. “I’ll go save us a seat.” Chaeyoung offered when she looked around, wanting to pick a more comfortable and private area, and Jennie nodded her head, beaming.

“Sure thing. I’ll be sure to call you if I need help.” The older of the two chuckled, playfully shooing her girlfriend away and Chaeyoung walks off to reserve themselves a seat. Though as soon as she walks away, the bell above the entrance rings once more and in walked two figures, dressed a little more casual compared to the two Blackpink members.

They linger at the front for a while, looking both giddy and excited, yet there was a nervous glint in their eyes. Exchanging a quick word, confirming each other’s orders, the taller of the pair went to find a table, whilst the brunette walked over to the counter, standing behind Jennie to wait for her turn.

Jennie really should know that eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing. She’s scolded her members countless times when they would do it, either at the company or at award shows. But it was impossible for her not to hear what the woman behind her was saying as soon as she answered her phone.

“Hi!” The brunette cheered happily. “Don’t worry about it! We just got to the cafe, too, so don’t stress.” The girl said dismissively as they took another step forward when another customer had finished with their order.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. It’s our treat, remember?” The woman’s voice was a bit husky, yet it was nice to listen to. “I know that you like f/d but I thought that you might like something else - cheesecake, muffin…” The girl had drawled out and there’s a bit of a giggle as their conversation went on.

At the mention of your favorite drink, Jennie let out a sigh, the nostalgic feeling rising when she remembers how you were always seen with one in your hands. Basically everyone knew how much you loved that drink and it worried her how you needed more water in your system instead.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

Jennie isn’t sure what compelled her to talk, but for some reason, the words just fell out of her mouth. A lingering effect you had on her, she thinks. “You know, that’s a really good pick.” She had glanced behind her, only to blink at the familiar looking face.

Though it looked like the girl knew who she was as well, if the panic and awe wasn’t a big give away. “Jennie sunbaenim!” The girl squeaked out and said idol smiled politely while waving her hand. “Have we met somewhere? You seem really familiar.”

The girl cleared her throat, plastering on a smile and laughing lightly. “I, um, we haven’t, but my name is Jinsoul, I’m a member of a girl group called Loona.” Jinsoul introduced herself and Jennie understood why she was so familiar.

The group had been rising in the industry and she remembers an article of both groups together. Though there were far too many of them for her to recall names and faces, she knows that she’s heard the name before.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jinsoul. Also, you seem to have really great taste.” She compliments, but the younger girl merely grinned and shook her head. “Ah, no the drink isn’t for me.” She explains before Jennie notices the slight blush on her cheeks. “I’m here with… friends.”

The way she speaks makes Jennie feel even more nostalgic. She remembers the shyness of having to hide your relationship when people often asked her and Chaeyoung who they were with. Dating someone of the same sex, more so being in a polyamorous relationship, wasn’t exactly welcomed in South Korea.

And with how Jinsoul spoke and acted, it was clear to Jennie that she was with someone who was more than just a friend.

“Ah, friends.” Jennie chuckled, causing the girl’s blush to worsen as she nodded her head. “Well, I hope you and your friends enjoy your date.” She winks and Jinsoul grins bashfully before nodding her head, letting Jenine go as the older idol went to order her and her girlfriend’s food.

The bell of the entrance rings again and you walk in with a slight huff, shrugging off your coat as you look around. But your eyes stop on a blonde woman happily waving her hand, her entire face lighting up at the sight of you that a few of the other patrons of the cafe can’t help but look over.

One of them being the Park Chaeyoung who sat a good two tables away. But with her choosing a little more secluded area, you had completely missed her as you jogged over to the waving woman.

“I missed you!” The blonde exclaimed and you giggle when she rises to her feet to wrap you in her embrace, one you happily return. “Hey, you’re the one with the booked schedules!” You shot back as you placed your coat behind one of the chairs and then took a seat, the taller woman having yet to let go of your hand.

You’re unaware of the eyes boring into the side of your head. “I watched your concert, by the way.” You chirped and the other blushes at the mention of it, a pout forming on her face. “So you saw me crying?” She asks and you offer her a light smile. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, Yoohyeon.” You assure her with a squeeze of her hand. “I’ve cried during performances, too. And it was honestly nice to see just how much you care for your members.”

The girl is whining when you shower her with more praises and Chaeyoung isn’t sure how much more she can witness. She’s just a little relieved that Jennie’s come to save her sanity, though confused when she sees the slight smile on her girlfriend’s face.

“They weren’t lying when they said that this was famous for idols.” The shorter woman said as she placed their number on the table and then set her bag down. “I just met someone from that group, Loona? She was really nice.” She says, failing to notice the distracted look on her girlfriend’s face.

It was only when she sat down did she notice how the light haired female’s eyes were looking elsewhere. “What are you…” And when she followed her girlfriend’s line of sight, she felt her throat grow dry and her own eyes widened when they rested on your familiar figure.

She felt herself about to move, but she had to pause when Jinsoul came bounding over to join your table, wrapping her arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek, one that made you giggle, eyes disappearing as you smiled back at the pair that sat with you.

“You’re here!” She had a childlike glee on her face at the sight of you, matching the one Yoohyeon was already wearing. “I did say I would try to hurry up. Jihyo wouldn’t stop pestering me until I promised them I’d bring home something for them.” You say with a laugh and the other two grin at your remark.

“Well, we can decide what to get them after. Right now, it’s the three of us!” Yoohyeon chirped, having yet to let go of your hand and you nod your head. “Of course. I missed the two of you and I’m just glad that we can finally hang out again.”

“You know, we don’t have to keep waiting for weeks if you just, you know…” There’s a teasing lilt to Jinsoul’s voice and Yoohyeon gives the girl a light shove while you bite your lip to stop the laugh that’s threatening to fall from your lips while your exes could only watch from afar.

They know that you don’t mean it. Hell, you didn’t even know they were there, what more watching you interact with two other idols who seemed to be far more interested in you than simple friends.

“What? You and I know that we’ve been meaning to ask, and you know that I’m going to ask whenever I can.” Jinsoul giggles as she reaches to pinch your cheek affectionately while Yoohyeon lets out a sigh. “You couldn’t have been subtle about it?”

“You can’t be subtle, babe.” That made the blonde whine, giving her girlfriend a pout and you can’t help smiling at their antics. “I’m going to have to side with Jinsoul on that one. You can’t lie to save your life, Yooh.” That caused the girl’s pout to deepen as she released your hand to cross her arms, sulking as you both cooed at her cute display.

Chaeyoung had enough. She just wanted to get up, walk up to you, leave, something. But for some reason she felt like she was glued to her chair, forced to watch as you acted as though everything was alright.

But you weren’t pretending.

You genuinely seemed to like these two girls and you didn’t even know she and Jennie were just somewhere nearby. And judging by how Jennie’s conversation with Jinsoul went, she’s making the assumption that you didn’t tell these girls about your past relationship.

“Whatever, but back to what Jinsoul said.” Yoohyeon tries to brush away her embarrassment by returning to the original topic and you let out a little smile. “You guys know that-”

“We know that you said you were scared.” Jinsoul cut you off, her expression thoughtful as she placed a hand on yours. “But I promise you, we won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She says softly. “I know you’re still wary since your past relationship, but we promise you that it’s never going to be like that.” Yoohyeon assures with a smile that melts your heart, but it somehow makes Jennie’s and Chaeyoung’s hearts sink.

You stare at the two, still looking unsure, and Jinsoul notices when she laced her fingers with yours. “We can keep waiting, if that’s what you want.” Her voice is soft, gentle and comforting, as her thumb runs against the side of your hand. “Even if you decide that you don’t want to be together, then that’s fine, too.” Yoohyeon says while she cupped your cheek, her gaze warm and tender.

“We care about you and that’s never going to change. If there’s a problem, then we’ll talk it out, right?” Jinsoul nods in agreement with her girlfriend as you have yet to say anything, and to be honest, Chaeyoung silently wishes that you refuse their offer.

She knows that she has no right, but she’s hoping that somewhere deep down that you still thought about her and Jennie even with how badly things ended between you. Because even with all that, there was still some good in your relationship before it all went to shit.

Jennie chewed on her lower lip as she tried to desperately look away, but even when her heart was telling her - screaming at her to stop and save herself the heartache, her mind was was stubbornly forcing her to watch just so she doesn’t have to keep feeding herself false hope of being able to get you back.

And sometimes she hated it.

“But what about our members?” You ask, and the two people you were with seemed somewhat relieved that you didn’t shut the idea out quickly like you used to. It gave them the reassurance that there really wasn’t anything wrong with them, but your own fears holding you back.

“Well, the girls love you already, and we met because of Dami and Gahyeon.” Yoohyeon says with a tiny smile, making you giggle because if it wasn’t for the maknae of her group, she’s not sure she would have had the courage to actually come and see you.

“Chuu is in love with you, no questions asked. Haseul adores you, too, because you actually have the capacity to tolerate the kids and keep up with their energy.” Jinsoul says with a grin. “The only people who haven’t properly talked to you yet are Hyunjin and Choerry, but the girls are fans so I doubt that they won’t like you.” She says encouragingly.

“The only thing left is what your members will say.” They add and Yoohyeon purses her lips, only then looking a bit worried. “I know they’re protective of you because of your past, but if they want to talk…” She trails off, letting her girlfriend finish for her. “We can come whenever they want. Even if we have a schedule, we can arrange things to meet them.”

You sat quietly while mulling over their words, four people holding their breaths for two different reasons.

“I mean… I guess we can try.” You finally say with a hint of a smile and Jinsoul’s entire face lights up significantly while Yoohyeon let out the breath she had been holding, though her smile is shy compared to her partner. “Really?”

Your giggle had felt like a knife to the heart for Chaeyoung and she was finally able to pull her eyes away and look at her girlfriend, the pain only growing stronger when she saw the tears Jennie was trying to hold back. If they were anywhere else, she would have already gone and comforted the other woman, but seeing how she refused to look away from your smiling face, she wasn’t sure just what exactly it was she was supposed to do.

Despite it being months, you left a print in their lives, and there would be no changing that.

“We don’t have to tell them right away, but you did let them know that you wanted to ask me out.” You explain with a meaningful look on your face. “As small as that was, they really appreciated the gesture. But Nayeon unnie, Jeongyeon unnie, Jihyo and Chaeyoung aren’t too fond of the idea of me dating again.”

“And we get that. The best we can do is just to prove to them that we won’t hurt you, at least not intentionally. In the event that we do something wrong, we’ll fix it and improve.” Jinsoul states seriously. “It might be a little early, but we promise, we’ll do the best we can to make you happy. Because that’s what really matters.”

You can’t help smiling at the two as you nodded your head, an answer seemingly made in your head as you looked at the two smiling girls. “Then I’ll hold you guys to that.”

Unable to hold their excitement, Jinsoul let out a squeal as both, her and Yoohyeon got out of their seats to trap you into the tightest hug they could both muster, drawing laughter out of your lips as you returned their embrace, breaking your exes’ hearts even more.

“Jennie…” Chaeyoung tried to reach for her girlfriend’s hand, but the latter pulled away, just in time for the waitress to bring their food and she forced a polite smile whilst the Aussie stared down at the table, muttering a quiet thank you before a silence hung over them.

Despite the day starting off on a good note, the sight of you with someone new made the whole thing turn around. Whatever progress the two made, it all came flying out the window the moment you made an appearance and they aren’t sure what to make of it.

But the three of you don’t stick around too long, part of your new girlfriends’ plans on making sure that the chance you had given them would be the best decision you’ve made and that they wouldn’t take it for granted.

Though as you all exited the establishment, you were a little surprised to meet the once familiar pair of eyes that felt like home and the hunched over figure sitting in front of her. While Jennie’s face was curtained by her hair, you knew already that it was her, and with the way Chaeyoung looked, it dawned on you that they were there to witness this new chapter in your life.

And to your surprise, she offers you a pained yet small smile. And while it would usually make your heart clench, you could only muster a kind smile, silently promising her that things will get better for both of them.

They’re left mending the space you left behind whilst you were already on your way to recovering with two people who would make sure to keep your heart whole.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like it was your fault for picking yourself before them.

[whaleofatjme1920]

At the End of Your Rope (Jeff the Killer X F!Reader)

At the End of Your Rope

[Jeff the Killer X F!Reader]

[Warnings: heavy domestic abuse, violence, murder (not heavily described though), language]

[AN: This one's kinda heavy in some places. Take care of yourself first and foremost.]

It was rare that you had moments to yourself and even rarer when you found yourself enjoying those moments. Usually, you were tense, on edge, bitey and waiting to snap or invert back into yourself. That is what it does to you. It takes away, it destroys and it saps you of all your energy, your drive and your will.

No matter, that’s not what you’re supposed to be thinking about. You hum softly as you do the dishes, wondering how long this set of plates will last until he returns. You scrub hard at the bits still stuck to it, wondering how on earth he even managed to get this much filth plastered onto its surface - you made the meal, served it to him, you even took it back to the sink. Was he trying to key you off?

You took in a deep breath and scratched at its surface, only smiling softly when the piece finally dislodged from the blue floral design. You ran it under the sink, lukewarm water feeling alien against your skin as you continued to mindlessly rinse off the suds. As you began to stare off into space and by extension, the void, you found yourself remembering the times he used to bring you blue flowers at the beginning of every date.

A long time ago, when you were starry eyed about the world around you, he loved you deeply and truly. And it was the most strange of couplings, but they do say that opposites attract.

Last class of the day, what a relief. What wasn’t a relief was that it was chemistry. You’d never been particularly good at the subject, but you would often try your hardest and so far, throughout the year, had managed to coast by with a -B. It wasn’t perfect but it was good enough.

For the people around you who knew you better than that, they were more than surprised you hadn’t managed an A in the class just yet. You were the over achiever, the smart girl, the one who knew it all. But not in a cocky way, no, of course not. You were sweet, helpful and kind. That’s what spared you from how cruel teenagers can get - your aura was incredible and people would be absolutely dense to not like you. For the most part, you were quiet and only spoke to a few close friends.

Unfortunately for you, your last period chemistry class didn’t have any of your dear ones near. You sat in the middle of the classroom, attempting to take notes and kept your head down, honestly focused on the material when you heard laughter from the back of the classroom.

“Don't make me come back there,” your teacher said, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Do I need to split you up?”

“No, sorry Mrs. Haut,” a dark haired boy piped up.

Mrs. Haut rolled her eyes slightly before going back to writing on the chalkboard. She was talking about the electron configuration of atoms or something like that when the laughter picked back up again. Mrs. Haut sighed again before continuing writing. “One of you move up here by Miss Reader, another by Miss. Rhys, and another by Mr. Clarke.”

The three boys in the back verbally voice their distaste with their teacher’s decision but ultimately went along with it. You buried yourself in your notes even deeper when you realized just who it was sitting next to you. Usually, the person sitting next to you wouldn’t bother you, but the fact that this was by far the most disruptive person in the class had you a little flustered. You couldn’t afford skipping the notes or getting sidetracked especially with midterms coming up.

“You have a pen?” He asked quietly.

That made you pause. “Excuse me?”

“A pen..?” He repeated, albeit a little slowly, as to really get the point across.

You didn’t want to disrupt your teacher any further by the idle chit chat and quietly rummaged in your bag for a pen. Once your fingers grazed the object, you plopped it back onto the desk and got back to writing.

“Thanks,” he said.

Your eyes wandered from your notes over to him - and he smiled at you. Fighting back slight heat, you began scribbling down the notes with a nod as if to say ‘no problem.’

The lesson continued on for a little bit longer until you felt him gently poking your shoulder. You pried your eyes off of the board to give him the attention he so desperately craved. With an eyebrow raised, you asked him what was on his mind.

“What’s your name?” He asked softly.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks - how the hell did he miss your name? You were the only consistent question asker in this class! “... Reader,” you answered, eyes narrowed slightly at the fact he’d miss your name. Though, you do suppose what else could you expect from a class clown? “And what is your name?” You asked simply out of politeness.

His eyes widened in shock, and his face followed in suit. “You seriously don’t know?”

When you shook your head he gave a quiet, but exasperated groan and then flew into a tanger about who he was. The guy who set all those frogs loose last year, the same one who orchestrated turning all the furniture upside down, the guy who did donuts on the football field and the one who covered half the auditorium on elaborate post it notes art.

And unfortunately for you, none of those rang a bell. “I knew someone did it, but I didn’t know you were the one who did it.”

And that spirited yet another tangent from the boy sitting next to you. He went into painstaking detail about how he even got some of those things done, and you pretended to care, more so interested in the passion in his eyes than the actual content of the story. He was a surprisingly good storyteller! You hadn’t even realized the both of you had been chatting more than note taking when everything went dead silent. Much too silent.

“Miss Reader, I am more than disappointed in you,” Mrs. Haut said with another frown pulling on her red lips. “Both of you, detention.”

Your eyes widened in shock as she slapped down two pink slips on your shared table.

“Again?” The boy next to you asked incredulously, taking the note into his fingertips along with his bag in the other hand. “Mrs. H, this is like the second time this month!”

Mrs. Haut only shook her head and gestured towards the door, her shoe tapping impatiently on the ground.

“There’s only thirty more minutes left of class,” you said as you began to pack up your things. “I... “ Upon seeing your teacher’s tired expression,and not being one to directly challenge authority, you relented. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled before taking the slip into your grip and exiting her classroom. You took in a deep breath and trudged out of the classroom, wondering how you would explain to your parents your record had a spot on it when you exited the classroom and closed the door softly behind you.

“Do you know where the room is?” You posed your question to the resident class clown with a crestfallen expression.

“You’re actually planning on going?” He said it like it was a surprise.

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be going?”

“I don’t know, but we can figure it out.” He smiled widely at you and plucked the pink slip from your hand.

“Wait what-? Give that back!” You cried out as quietly as you could to not disturb the other classes.

“C’mon, Princess, come and get it,” he teased. It didn’t sound like he had malice in his tone though.

You chased him through the hall attempting to get the slip back, narrowly avoiding the watchful gaze of hall monitors and the like when you found he had led you out to the parking lot. You didn’t have a car.

“Let’s go,” he beamed, scrunching up both of your pink slips in his hand before tossing them into the trash. “I wasn’t joking about figuring it out together.”

“I… But-”

“But nothing, Princess. Live a little.” He nodded for you to follow him, and you, feeling much too awkward to challenge someone, found yourself being led by him to his car. It wasn’t a fancy car, but it wasn’t near as run down as you expected it to be. It looked like he kept it relatively decent, and the scent was that of lemon. Whatever, live a little.

You slid into the passenger seat and put on your seatbelt as he became once again.

“Atta girl!” He chuckled as the car roared to life. He then flicked on the radio, turned up some music and the two of you left the school.

You can’t quite say you’ve ever had fun like that before. He took you to a diner, out bowling, you two snuck into a movie theatre then got smoothies before he dropped you off at home. And he was so sweet and kind throughout it all. He made you laugh, listened to you attentively, and over smoothies, he attempted to help you study a bit. It was moot, but it was nice that he even attempted.

That was what started a beautiful friendship that lasted throughout the rest of that academic year. Later, it blossomed into a relationship, and further, it transformed into marriage. The day he asked you to marry him was one of the best days of your entire life - and then, you were convinced you had met your soulmate. He was everything you’d ever wanted in a partner, and he was oh so helpful and attentive.

High school sweethearts was what you were referred to, and you both fit the image so well. You were practically glowing anytime anyone had seen you. Your marriage had happened too fast, but you were convinced he was your one and only unaware that growth comes in many forms. And in this specific case, the roots have burst the pot.

Back then, he used to give you flowers nearly every day in various shades of the rainbow. Blue seemed to be the preferred though.

“You always get these, why?” You had asked one evening, fingertips gently petting the soft petals.

“Apparently, they mean something poetic,” he replied before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “That’s what the flower guy keeps telling me. And they’re kinda hard to find,” he continued, eyes looking out at the starry night sky the two of you laid under. “So, whenever they come in, I grab them tight and bring them back to my baby.”

You giggled slightly before shutting him off with a kiss.

They were damn near unattainable after the two of you had gotten married. It seemed they’d gone out of style, or perhaps they just weren’t thriving as they used to. One day, when you were lonely and missing your husband, you pulled out an old book on various flora and fauna. You must’ve spent hours upon hours learning about the area you lived in when you chanced upon a dash of blue.

Cornflowers, they were cornflowers.

The flowers on the plate you’d run under the faucet for far too long weren’t the same shade of blue, but they were just as pretty. It’s a shame that these plates would most likely be broken before the month was out.

Gods, when did he change? It was hard to pinpoint it because the two of you had been under each other’s spell for a good chunk of that time. When did he flip the switch? When did he… You shook your head and turned off the faucet, deciding you were done with the dishes for now. Accidentally, when you were placing the plate back in its place, you bumped your forearm on the counter. With a wince, you hissed and mentally reminded yourself to mind the bruises that were still fresh there. He gripped your wrist so hard that night you were sure it was going to snap right off.

He really wasn’t like this in the beginning and your mind raked constantly with reasons as to why when you laid awake at night hoping he wouldn’t go too far or burn a bridge only to find it needed to be rebuilt with supplies that no longer existed.

It was nearing the late evening and he wasn’t supposed to be home until later in the night. You could afford to relax for just a little longer. With a deep breath, you walked up the stairs dead set on drawing a bath to just let your mind go blank. Hidden away in the bathroom sink’s cabinet was a ‘mix’ of herbs and such a dear friend of yours had said would aid in relaxing your soul and maybe your wounds. You could only use the clumsy excuse for so long.

You opened the door to your bathroom, quietly shut it behind you and didn’t bother locking it. If he was here, you might have, but you weren’t expecting him back until much, much later. You could afford to breathe. You drew the faucet and let it run for a moment or two until the water got a little warmer, then you plugged the tub and let it fill. You crouched down and poked your hand around towards the back of the bathroom sink before finding the jar filled with herbs and salts. It smelled divine even when closed. Unscrewing the lid, you are able to take in the scent of lavender, chamomile, rosebuds, sweet lemongrass and vanilla. Pink sea salt for added effect made the bath look heavenly when you poured in a generous scoop. As the water heated the herbs, you notice the rosebuds blooming into large, pink and red flowers. It was nothing short of magickal and filled you with some type of serenity.

Once the water was to your liking, you stripped and got into the tub, sighing in contentment as the water heated your form up. And from there, you let your mind go blank and take in the aroma of the herbs and flowers. You feel the stress leaving your body. You wish you could feel like this forever.

You allow your brain to wander as you relax and find it going back to your husband every single time. If he wasn’t asked to sit next to you, would you have been in this awful situation now? This was no way to live - and you wondered if you had just gone to detention that day if things would be different, or perhaps better. You thought you were able to pinpoint when everything went wrong when yet another starting point would come into your mind. It was like your brain was purposely making you move the goalposts so you wouldn’t be retraumatized by anything all over again.

It started small and in little bouts. He lost his patience with you. If you accidentally burnt the pancakes? It was alright but don’t let it happen again. Over watered the petunias just once? Great, now he needed to go to the store and pick up some new ones should those suffer root rot that was relatively treatable. Couldn’t get dinner ready on time? What a mess. Said something slightly off base? Your intelligence was being actively questioned. It kept snowballing until it reached the first time he hit you. Which was a dark enough day that you rather not think about.

He said he loved you. That he would protect you and make sure you were safe from all harm. But he broke that the moment his hand slapped your face so hard you felt the air leave your lungs. That was a really dark day, but it was not the darkest yet.

You must’ve spent close to an hour in the bath when you heard the front door opening. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to be back. You feel your heart pounding as you leap out of the bath, quickly drying yourself before throwing your clothes back on. In your haste, you forget to unplug the bath. But it’s too late, you hear him coming up the stairs. Seconds later, he’s in your shared bedroom.

“Reader? Where are you?” He sounds exhausted. Upon seeing the bathroom door closed, he stalks up to it. “Reader? Open up, Princess.”

It’s not the first time he’s tried to soften the blow like this.

“I-I’m still in the tub-”

“Sure, sure, sweetie,” he hums. “Can you uh, tell me why you haven’t gotten any food ready if you were going to fuck around in the tub like this then?”

Your heart constricts and your stomach twists. “I didn’t know you were gonna be home this early,” you say softly, ready to brace the door.

“Oh you forgot,” he says as if he’s speculating whether that was a decent answer or not. “You forgot,” he repeats. He stands in front of the bathroom door, swaying slightly like he’s waiting for you to come to you. “Come out of the bathroom.”

“I just drew it-”

“Did I ask for your excuses?”

“No-”

“Then come out of the FUCKING BATHROOM!” He hits the door so hard you thought you heard it splintering.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You cried out as you immediately rammed against the door, struggling to keep your husband back from breaking it down.

He didn’t answer, only continued to rattle off about everything wrong. She kicked the door harder and harder, sending you bouncing against the wood. You continued to cry out in pain but dug your shoulder into the door as you prayed it would be enough to keep him out.

“Stop, stop, STOP IT!” You felt tears pour out from your eyes as your husband pounded the door. “You’re being crazy right now, stop it!” Your throat felt raw with anguish as you continued to screech, head coming dangerously close to bouncing against the door as your husband began kicking it.

Eventually, he succeeded. He backed up, reared his leg up and took three hard hits, successfully kicking the door down. You went flying down with it and tumbled down the tile floor with a yelp of pain, landing sharply on your hip. You looked up through your pain and saw he was standing before you, fists balled and nothing but rage in his eyes.

“I told you to fucking let me in,” he seethes as he narrows in on you. Before he can touch you, his eyes travel to the tub. “And now you’re clogging up my fucking pipes?” He asks in an exasperated tone as he feels his blood pressure rise. “You need to learn a lesson,” he sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “When dogs are just puppies and they have an accident,” he begins as he bends down to the ground and nears you as you struggle to crawl away from him. “You take their nose and bury it into their mess.” He finishes. He straddles your waist and sloughs off your weak attempts to get him off of you.

You continue to cry and scream, beg and plead as his hands snake up your arms and to your hair. And your eyes widen as he takes a fistfull and then roughly stands up, dragging your body up with him.

“You fucking dog,” he spits as he drags you upwards. He begins to drag you towards the tub.

“No, NO!” You plead as you dig your heels into the tile, trying to grip onto the sink for dear life as he continues to drag you. You feel your strands of hair damn near get lifted from your scalp as he continues to yank you. He’ll kill you if you don’t put up a fight. “I’m sorry! Gods, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Whatever I did to piss you off I promise that it won’t happen again!” You attempt to reason as he finally pries your hands off the sink.

“You should’ve known that to begin with,” he replies as he pulls your hair harder. He then brings you to the tub and roughly shoves you to its lip. You catch yourself and try to get away when he pushes at the back of your head. You still continue to fight him, crying and pleading even harder as your husband kicks in the back of your legs, attempting to cripple you further to get you to bend. You continue to push back, staring into the now cold bath like it’s a watery grave.

A scream rips through your throat as he hits the back of your skull, having you gasping for air and consciousness. He takes that moment as your weakness and finally overpowers you. Your head is thrust below the waters, and you find yourself screeching all the while. From above the water’s surface, you can hear your once beloved husband muttering about you and the faults of your character as he holds you under the water. Before you can even register that air is in your lungs again, you’re plunged back into the water, coughing and hacking all the while as he does so.

When he grows tired of continually plunging your head into the water, he picks up your lower half and tosses you in, sending the water and herbs flying everywhere as your clothed body enters the freezing tub. Your tears mix with the remnants of the bathwater as he holds you under, nothing but rage in his eyes as he does.

When you feel like it’s too much, you begin to let go. Perhaps darkness would be a nicer sight than the sunrise of tomorrow.

You open your eyes slowly to see that you’re still in the tub and laying in a small pool of water that isn’t enough to harm you regardless of how you were laid. You feel aches all over and you feel like water is weighing down your lungs. Slowly, you get to your bearings as you prop yourself up. Step by step and painstaking muscle movement by muscle movement, you stand and grip the edge of the tub, realizing you need to change out of your clothes. You pause momentarily to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Gods,” you whisper to yourself. You look like you were in a car accident. There’s bruises on your throat and your face from where he tried to slam you into the bathtub, and your face is puffy and discolored from crying. Your hair is knotted and you feel like no amount of conditioner on earth can get that out - to even think about detangling it is a nightmare. Your clothes are ripped and waterlogged. Everything about you screams pathetic. When you turn your head and look at the door, you see it’s broken beyond repair. He kicked it out of its latches and the wood itself is splintered in two.

You quietly step out of the bathroom, ready to change into drier clothes when you see your husband sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You feel yourself begin to shiver, momentarily feeling your mind drift elsewhere to protect your brain from further trauma.

“You’re finally up,” he says, a blank expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

You feel disgust come up in the back of your throat but swallow it back down in favor of not angering him further. “I’m fine,” you lie, not bothering to plaster on a smile.

“Good.” He slowly stands up. “I’m heading out. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” He holds his arms out to you.

Shivering and absolutely terrified, you find yourself bending to his will. Quietly, you pad across the carpet to him and allow yourself to be wrapped up in his arms. His arms feel like a metal cage as they wrap around your quivering form.

“I’m sorry,” he says emptily as he buries his nose into your hair. “It won’t happen again.” He sways the two of you side to side as he holds you a little tighter, not bothering to mind the bumps and bruises he inflicted on your body.

You internally sigh and hollowly nod, allowing him to hold you.

He said that the last time.

It’s been a few days since your husband flew off the handle like that. Your husband stayed in the house, but like every time before, he pretended nothing had happened and instead vied for avoiding you. In a day or so, he’d be back to pretending he still loved you. But, your mind wasn’t entirely on him coming back to you and acting sweet - it was on everything in between.

See, this isn’t the first time that something of this caliber has happened to you. Convenience was something that seemed to pop up in your life more often than not, and you’d just accepted it. The first time you could remember it was when you were in your garage, trying to have a moment alone after your husband had shoved you into a wall for not making the potatoes the way he wanted (what a stupid thing to be upset over). As you sat at the workbench, sobbing quietly, your attention was pulled towards a thing of antifreeze. It was just propped up there. You don’t remember buying it, nor did you remember your husband buying it either. Neither of you regularly did car maintenance, nor did it seem like the kind used for a pool (which neither of you had). What on earth was it even doing here?

You quietly picked up the bottle and tossed it before your husband came calling for you to redo the potatoes.

The second time you noticed something much too conveniently placed was when the coffee in front of you was decaf. Your husband was terrible at waking up in the mornings, and the only thing that kept him up was his morning coffee on the drive to work. Well, one morning it was decaf in the keurig- and you almost didn’t notice it. The last time that happened, he’d almost swerved off the road. In a panic, you switched it to the right one before he noticed. If neither of you did, it could have claimed his life as the drive from your neck of the woods to the city was kind of dodgy in general.

The third most prominent time was semi-recently. You were cooking and once you finished, carried about your day. When you stopped by the kitchen to grab your keys and head to town for some shopping, you noticed that the gas was left on. Your husband was due to come home soon - if it stayed on for any longer, it might have killed him. Of course, you turned it off, but your hand lingered on the dial just a moment longer, wondering what would have happened if you didn’t turn it off. Feeling monstrous for even letting that thought pop into your head, you pulled back your hand like you had thrown it into the fire.

Those were just some of the most prominent things that happened. There were also little things that occurred as well, such as the TV always being clicked onto certain types of true crime documentaries entailing warring spouses, or the reading material being a tad too detailed in how to get away with things that obviously weren't legal. It started with petty theft, or piracy, and then moved onto other things that were much too unpleasant for you to even detail. All of these things seemed to be calling you towards something more sinister than you had ever imagined.

And until now, you’d managed to hold it all back. Sure, you entertain yourself by watching the documentaries and reading the material (which you wonder deeply who put it in your mailbox to begin with) but you never actually thought to harm him, did you?

It all came to a head a few weeks after the bathtub incident. He pushed you around plenty since then, but it hadn’t crossed the threshold like what happened back then - and that was enough to keep you at bay until this specific dinner. Apparently, your husband had missed out on a promotion given to someone younger and more ambitious than him and that killed him on the inside. He had a chip on his shoulder and he was dead set on taking it out on you.

“Gave it to that little prick,” he mumbles as he stabs at his food.

“I’m sure you’ll get it next time-”

“Next time? That’s half a fucking year away,” your husband replies as he bites down on his food. “Worthless job and can’t even move up in it. Stuck in this hellhole,” he continues to mutter as he stabs around.

Not wanting to even think about flaring him, you just drink uncomfortably at your water. “Is…” You close your mouth, not wanting to even hear his voice.

“No, no, finish your thought,” he says with a deep sigh.

“It’s not important.”

“My wife has something to say, she says it.”

“No, really I-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Reader, spit it out.”

“Is the food okay?” You ask quietly as you avert your eyes to anywhere but at him. You gulp thickly, worrying that you’ve upset him further and lament even opening your mouth up to begin with.

“It’s awful,” he replies before taking another bite. “You must really be testing me, y’know that?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“I know.”

Uncomfortable silence passes between the two of you as dinner goes on with that same unease. You practically exude discomfort as you sit there, picking at your food and not wanting to even stomach it as long as this monster sits across from you. You wonder if your husband is going to go on one of his tangents when he answers that useless question by opening his mouth.

He talks a lot about how much he hates work, his coworkers, his lot in life, literally anything he could complain about and everything. He has such a hatred for the world around him that you wonder if it was always hiding just below the surface when you first met him. Probably. People tend to grow into who they were always meant to be as the years go on.

“And you,” he continues, pointing his fork in an accusatory manner at you. “You are the worst part of it,” he says as he narrows his eyes. He does this to you at every meal. And by the end of it, he’s always so riled up he almost breaks the plates. “Remember that girl, Jada? From honors math?”

You quietly nod.

“I should’ve married her. Girl with some brains and a nice ass,” he muses. “Instead I settled for you. Worthless, bruised and battered, puffy faced you,” he says with absolute vitriol, getting more and more riled up as his complaints carry on. “Hell, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been thrown in detention again either.”

“That wasn’t my fault-”

“Oh so she speaks, does she?” He stands up.

You brace yourself.

“You know better than that,” he says lowly like a tiger waiting to pounce. “Than to talk back to me in my OWN GODDAMN HOUSE!” The plates and the dinner go flying off the table as he roughly shoves his arms across it.

There go the plates that reminded you of something nicer.

You immediately stand up and gasp, your chair flying back as you do so. Your hands fly up as your husband’s hands grip ar your wrists, his power taking over your frail form as he begins hurling you backwards to the countertop.

“Teach you to talk to me like that again,” he growls as he slams you down onto the counter, wrists not being jostled into his one hand. “You’ll never learn,” he mumbles, strill wrangling you down to the countertop.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him reaching towards the knife rack - and you see your very life fly before your eyes as he palms one.

You begin to repeat no like a mantra as he grips the knife and then lets go of your wrists, hsi hand going to the collar of your shirt. You cry out as your hands balled into fists and start punching, your legs being held by his body as his hand latches onto your throat and squeezes. Tears prick your eyes once again as his eyes flick down to your shirt.

“Stop!” You weakly cry out as his fingers dig into your flesh.

He raises the knife, a mad look on his faze as the steel catches the light. It shines, and then comes plunging down.

You scream as the knife is stabbed much too close to your neck, instead trapping you by snagging your shirt to the counter.

“You stay here and think about all the trouble you’ve caused,” he says in a ‘bubbling with rage’ tone as he shoves your head into the counter. “And clean up this mess.”

Once he leaves and slammed the front door shut, you pry yourself free from the knife and then fall to the floor sobbing, once again feeling your heart broken over your husband treating you so. But, once the rain fell, all that came was a ping - a spark. As you finally composed yourself and began cleaning his mess, the spark ignited to a flame that grew like wildfire in your mind’s eyes as you gingerly picked up the pieces of plates that you held such saccharine fondness over.

You couldn’t stand for this anymore.

With exhaustion sweeping over your body and the kitchen now cleaned, you allow yourself to move on autopilot and move upwards towards your bedroom. You don’t bother changing and plop down onto it. You stare at your ceiling, wondering if you should run away or - oh! Here comes a thought. With your eyes inching towards your nightstand, you finally give into the overwhelming feeling to open the drawer and you do so. Your hand gropes around before you finally touch something cold. Your mind lurches once you realize what it is.

You sit up, more than surprised to see the handle of a gun under your fingertips. On it is a sticky note with a smiley face: ‘don’t forget to turn off the safety :)’. A shiver of horror runs down your spine when you realize there’s a silencer attached to it. Gods, you knew he had a gun but a silencer? Everything about this - you knew it was wrong.

But holding it in your hand… That felt right.

You decided to stay quiet on things for now and think. Afterall, he was stronger than you. You couldn’t just confront him with the gun. He might wrestle it out of you and shoot you instead. You couldn’t take that kind of risk right now. So, you waited, looked over the gun some more, and waited.

Your husband entered back into the house at some gods awful time at night, more than pleased to see the house was back in order as it should be as he closed the door behind him. He was exhausted on all facets (though it could not hold a candle to how you were feeling) as he trudged up the stairs.

You laid in bed, pretending to be asleep. You knew what had to be done.

When your husband came in, huffed and got ready for bed, you itched for the trigger. You knew you had to act soon, but not too fast or he could hurt you again an take you out instead. Your breath hitched when you felt him sit on the bed and get comfortable, of course, turned away from you.

You took in a deep breath, closed your eyes, and held the gun in your hand once you felt him slip into sleep. The moments felt like hours as you quietly sat up and held the gun in your hands. Were you really going to do this?

Your mind flashed with hundreds upon hundreds of possibilities. At one point, a long time ago, you loved him. You loved him deeply and truly.

You took aim.

You shot.

Gods, if you knew it was going to be this hard to drag his body out here, you would’ve chosen a different place to shoot him. Dragging your now dead husband through the woods behind your house was an absolutely miserable process. You were working up a sweat as you did so and it was so dark that you could hardly make heads or tails of anything.

Finally, guided by the moonlight, you came to a place that looked more than decent. It was far enough, and the growth here was so heavy that if you tumbled the earth around, it would hardly look like anyone had disturbed it to begin with.

“Always making things harder on me,” you mumble as you toss his limp body back to the earth before you juggle the shovel you’d dragged along into your hands. You let your mind go blank as you began to cut into the soil.

A plethora of thoughts entered into your head as you shoveled away, making a deep enough hole to throw your deceased husband in. In a way, you didn’t think he deserved a hole this nice, but you knew deep down you had to hide the body. You continued to shovel, and once you finally made it deep enough to your liking, rolled his body into the ground.

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” a low, slightly gravelly voice chuckles, slow clapping.

“Who’s there?” You ask in a slightly panicked tone, holding the shovel up like a weapon. “I… I won’t hesitate-”

“Don’t make me laugh,” the voice continues, a playful bite on every syllable. “No, no, you did good.”

Your eyes frantically look around for the voice when you hear a whistle. There, behind you, is a man. Possibly mid 20s, shoulder length black hair, pale skin that rivals the light of the moon, wearing a hoodie covered in things you’d rather not think of and taller than you by a good head or so.

“You gonna put the shovel down?” He asks with a brow raised.

Hesitantly, you lower the shovel in your grasp just to let him get a little closer. Your eyes widen when you see he’s cut a smile into his face. “Who… Who are you?”

“I’ll tell you if you finish your job here,” he says as he nods to the uncovered, deceased body of your husband. “And before you go through the typical ‘oh my gods, are you gonna turn me in’ bullshit so many of you seem to go through, rest assured that I’m not gonna do anything to you. Just finish your job. Can you do that for me, Bird?” He leans against the tree, looking at you with a small smark.

A mind too frazzled for anything else, you nod and get back to work. It doesn’t take near as long to fill the hole as it did to carve it out, which was a pleasant surprise. When you were done, you wiped the sweat from your brow.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you held the shovel firmly in your hands.

“Checking in on you,” he replies. “You want to go back to your house and-”

“No,” you cut him off, eyes averting down the ground. “Anywhere but there right now.” You say softly, gesturing to the disturbed earth.

The man pops off the tree and stalks over to the hole you’d covered, lightly shoving some foliage on top of it. “Okay, still sensitive. I get that,” he hums. “Follow me then. Let’s take a walk.” He nods for you to follow, blue eyes silently telling you to bring the shovel along with you.

Not wanting to be near his body anymore despite it being packed below the ground, you relent and follow.

“So, you did good, really good,” the man says as he puts his hands back in his hoodie pockets.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, quickly matching pace with him. “And I never did get your name..?” You trail off slightly, taking in the deep scent of the woods around you. The scent of pine and autumn fills your nose.

“Because you did my job for me, and it’s Jeff,” he replies, his arm momentarily pushing back some low hanging pines. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a while, Bird.” He chuckles softly when he sees your confused expression.

“Really? Bird?” You repeat in a dry tone, face deadpanning at the very mention of it. “Job?”

“You’re flighty, like a bird, and judging by how fast you switch topics, bird.” He smiles, continuing to lead you further and further into the woods and away from your now empty house. “Little while back, I was asked to kill your husband. But, I saw you during one of my stalking outings and well, thought I could make things interesting.” He says it like it’s nothing and common knowledge.

“You what?” You ask in a surprised tone. “You stalked us?”

“Well, yeah,” Jeff says. “Normally, I don’t take that much care in my work. I tend to gut first and never ask questions, but you posed something interesting in my wake.”

“Holy fuck,” you murmur as you continue to trot throguh the woods. “We’re both going to jail.”

“Me? Absolutely not. You? Well,” he turns his attention to the deer path laid before the two of you and smiles at the open, moonlit field. “Depends on how you’ll answer my question.”

The two of you step through the remaining brush and finally reach the field. You had no idea this place was even behind your house or even so close. Tall grass rising to your waist sways gently in the wind as you step out of the trees and into the open air. Stars dot the sky as the moon hangs overhead. This place feels nostalgic. Out in the distance is a little stone structure, and upon Jeff taking you closer to it, it’s a little stone shelter.

“Take a seat, gonna be a while,” Jeff says as he rummages around in his pocket. He pulls out a lighter, bends down and lights the pieces of wood conveniently left inside of it, and the night is no longer cold.

You get comfortable and let your exhausted body rest. “Have you been watching me for long?”

“Longer than necessary,” Jeff answers as he cracks his back before finally getting comfortable. “But, I only watched you from a distance. Tell me about yourself first, let me know it wasn’t a mistake to let you breathe.” He smirks at you and winks, sending shivers down your spine.

You take in a deep breath, not really feeling anything but exhaustion and decide to tell him. You tell him everything, about your childhood, about little intricacies and so on. You told him about high school and how you met your husband. Little stories, anecdotes, memories and feelings resurfaced as you detailed how everything was bliss. And then one day, it wasn’t.

“Something in him snapped and went rotten,” you sigh. “And he hurt me. Hurt me really bad.”

Jeff looks up from the fire to see how the light dances across your skin. It’s here that he’s finally able to see the extent of your dead husband’s power over you. Bruises darker than your natural shade line your skin like oddly erased marks on a stubborn piece of paper. Your eyes are hollow, devoid of all life. Hair from your scalp is oddly placed as if it’s still trying to grow back. Your posture conveys nothing but pure exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a tone that’s much more gruff than he originally means. It’s not that he doesn’t genuinely feel bad, it’s that he’s awful at actually verbalizing it. In truth, Jeff doesn’t like abusers. They make him feel wrong, make him feel like something’s not fair. Jeff like to fancy himself as someone who goes by the rule of ‘equality.’ If you pick on someone weaker than you with them having no chance of fighting back or at least inflicting the same damage back, you are nothing but a coward who gets off on hurting smaller people. And that in his mind is nothing short of detestable. “Guess good on me for letting you take him out, huh?”

You look at him with an odd mixture of confusion and absolute relief. “I guess,” you say, the sound of serenity slipping into your tone. “And what about you? What originally sent you out here?”

“Tall guy in a suit,” he stated, a small scowl pulling at his lips. “Y’know, he’s interested in you.”

“Tall guy in a suit?”

“Slender Man. I call him ‘Pale Ass’ though. He’s like… A murderous businessman. Has little drones to do his work even though he’s more than capable of doing it himself. And that’s where you come in.” Jeff shifts slightly and fixes his posture. “He’s the guy who originally wanted your husband dead. Sent me to do it.”

“Why did he want him dead?” You inquire. You knew your husband had done some dodgy things, especially with how strangely he was acting within the last few years as his abuse ran up, but you originally assumed he was cheating or something. Maybe into some other shady things. What on earth could he have done to garner the attention of some murderer kingpin?

“Saw something he shouldn’t have. My guess is Toby - maybe Theo. Both of them suck at covering up their tracks,” Jeff laughs slightly. “Probably saw one of us hiding a body, committing a murder, shit, he could’ve stumbled on some finals when he obviously shouldn’t have done that. Regardless, it got Slender’s attention, and now he’s dead because of it,” Jeff continues as he casts his eyes from you to the flickering flames. “You remember that night he fell asleep in his car in the garage?”

You nod.

“Almost took him out right there.” Jeff’s brows furrow slightly. “Something stopped me and then I saw you. The way he reacted to you asking if he wanted a certain type of potato made me giggle, and then I got a thought.”

“The antifreeze…”

“Yeah, the antifreeze. I’d noticed you were being pushed around for a while, honestly planning on taking you out to give you some rest but,” his eyes flash, “seemed more fun to get you into it too.” He sighs and leans back. “Was it cathartic?”

You find yourself uncomfortably shifting and wanting to answer with ‘no, of course not! I killed someone,’ before realizing that wouldn't be truthful. It was cathartic to put an end to his life. It was cathartic to finally bring justice for yourself in a way that no prison system would allow. “It… It was.” You admit, shyly and quietly like confessing to a bad secret.

“Feels nice to admit it, right?” He smiles.

“It does.”

“Now, imagine doing that to other pieces of shit,” he says as he sits up again. “Imagine being able to do that to every monster that’s ever hurt anyone just like you/”

You close your eyes and feel the red hot rage tingle your fingertips. Being able to unload on your dead husband was more than pleasing - in fact, it was nice, and dare you say, fun. The thought of being able to do that to other people who hurt others like that, while a far off possibility now as you were still frail, was still a possibility nonetheless.

“I mean, where else do you have to go?” Jeff continues, watching as you toss the thought around in your head. “You’d never get caught. He’d handle it all right now. You’d be free.” Jeff stands up and begins crossing the distance to meet you. His shadow walks alongside him. Dusk hangs in the air. “Or, if this isn’t to your liking, you can join him.”

“What?” You question, eyes flicking up from Jeff’s shoes to his eyes.

“You gotta understand,” he begins as he crouches in front of you. “If you say no and

decide to deal with the fallout like a normal human being, you’ll be caught and most likely killed for it. You’d be at the end of your rope.”

You feel an ocean of emotions swell up inside of you. “And if I… What would you even have me do if I followed you?”

“I’ll take you to meet him, and we’ll see what happens next. He’ll cover for you. You won’t ever have to see this place ever again.”

The sun begins to peek over the horizon. The fire is dying down. You can hear birds chirping in the early morning sky as fluffy clouds bid good morning to the dimming stars in the sky.

“Let’s get outta here, Bird.” Jeff stands up, holding out his hand.

You take in a deep breath, hand hovering over his. You thought of your husband, your life and everything that had ever happened to lead up to this moment. You’d gone this far, and there was clearly no going back. Another deep breath in and you pressed your hand down to his.

Jeff’s smile bloomed once again.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 3: You Look Taller

Summary: Steve is transformed into the world’s first Super Soldier, but after a bomb is detonated in the SSR lab, he is soon putting his new found strength to the test.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count- 7.5k ish

A/N:  I might have taken a few liberties here with the way things worked in the Army in the 40s but, let’s face it, no more than the MCU did! Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

SSR Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

Steve didn’t sleep a wink that night. His mind was in overdrive, his body spiking with just about as many contrasting emotions one could possibly feel all at once. Excitement, fear, pride, concern, uncertainty, determination…and then there were his thoughts about Katie and what they’d done last night. He was conflicted about that as well. On the one hand it had been so wrong, to have rubbed one another to release through their clothes, without even courting so to speak. It went against everything his Ma had taught him about treating a dame with respect, instead he’d gone head and behaved just like Bucky normally did when he paraded around in his uniform, using it to pick up any woman he could.

But on the other, nothing had ever felt so damned right to him before in his life.

He still couldn’t quite believe it, although the evidence it had happened was plain to see in his pants which he’d hastily changed and hidden in the bottom of his trunk. What he was having trouble processing was why. Why a dame like that had picked a guy like him. He still wasn’t completely convinced she wasn’t acting out of pity. Pity that he was about to undergo some transformation and had never been touched that way before.

But then she’d admitted that she hadn’t either. “What was it you said about waiting for the right partner?”

Maybe she did actually feel something for him. And whilst it hadn’t been the most conventional beginning, perhaps it might morph into something else?

 With a groan he shook his head, who was he kidding? It was June, 1943 and they were in the middle of a war. He was about to be injected with some kind of serum that was either going to turn him into a soldier with enhanced capabilities or…well, he didn’t want to think about the 'or'. Either way, he knew what should be at the forefront of his mind, and a relationship with Katie Stark was not it.

He went about his morning routine as normal. Thanks to the SSR’s programme being covert, most people on the base completely ignored him as usual, which suited him fine. The last thing he wanted was people asking him questions about how he was feeling, because he simply didn’t know. This time, once he was dressed he ensured all his belongings were packed ready to be taken to his new barracks, wherever they were going to be and no sooner had he done that the door opened and he snapped to attention, saluting the soldier that had arrived along with Agent Carter.

“Hello Steve," she smiled at him.

“Good morning, Ma’am.” He said, his hand, dropping to his side and he relaxed as she instructed him to be at ease.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Good, follow me then.”

Grabbing his hat he headed after her, walking in silence through the camp, his eyes focussed directly ahead. Eventually he was led around to the main office buildings, outside of which a car was waiting. Peggy walked around one side where the driver opened the door for her and Steve snapped himself out of his thoughts and climbed into the other side, shutting the door behind him.

 The two or so hour drive from New Jersey to their destination was quiet. Agent Carter made a little small talk, but for the most she was silent or conversing with the driver. That said, it seemed to fly by in comparison to when he had taken the trip the other way a little under a week ago. As he glanced at the buildings passing them by, one by one they started to get familiar.

“I know this neighborhood," Steve said absentmindedly as he looked out of the window. “I got beat up in that alley.” He continued watching his finger pointing out of the window, his eyebrows raised as he spotted another familiar landmark, “and that parking lot.” Another pause as his head dropped slightly, eyes on his hands which were clasped on his lap, “and behind that diner.”

“Did you have something against running away?” Peggy asked and Steve took a deep breath, shaking his head as he remembered his Ma’s words to him.

“You start running they’ll never let you stop.” He explained, once more glancing out of the window, “You stand up, push back. Can’t say no forever, right?” He gave a shrug and once more his eyes fell to his hands. He stared at them, and the longer he stared the more he thought back. 

Hands that had last night traced the soft curves of Agent Stark’s hips, breasts. The vision coming in so clear, nearly like a picture show and it caused him to swallow a little, his throat and mouth feeling dry and he couldn’t help but wish that it was Katie in the car with him, not Agent Carter. Whilst the pretty, British woman sat on the seat beside him had always been pleasant enough to him, there was something about Katie that just kept him grounded if there ever were a word to describe the way she made him feel. He never once felt jittery in her presence yet now, as he sat there being quizzed on something that was actually quite personal, he was starting to feel a little angsty.

 “I know a little of what that’s like. To have every door shut in your face.” Peggy spoke gently as she looked at him and Steve met her gaze for a second before she looked forward once more, and his mind strayed back to something Katie had said last night.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked down at his hands. “Katie…I mean Agent Stark told me about how people weren’t exactly open to the pair of you joining the SSR or the Army.”

“She did?” Agent Carter looked at him, her brown drawing ever so slightly into a frown.

 Steve nodded, “last night.” And no sooner had the words left his mouth his eyes widened as he realised he’d outed the fact Katie had come to his barracks. Peggy looked at him, an immaculately shaped brow arched slightly, rouged lips curling up into a smirk at one side as Steve began to babble out an excuse. “She came to check on me, along with Dr Erskine. I mean, well, just as he was leaving that is. There was…we just…”

 “You don’t need to explain. What you and Agent Stark do is nothing to do with me,” Peggy shook her head, the corner of her lips twitching as Steve hastily looked away, out of the window, his cheeks burning. “I do know one thing though...."

 “What’s that?” Steve’s head whipped round to look at her.

“She’s soft on you.” Peggy replied simply “That’s why she’s been torn ever since you got picked to be our candidate.”

“Torn?”

“In case it goes wrong.” Peggy shrugged, "Or you change in more ways than physically which means you’re no longer the man she…” Peggy trailed off, licking her lips taking a deep breath before she continued “…the man she clearly cares for.”

Steve met her eyes for a second before he looked away, his stomach now twisting in knots that had nothing to do with the procedure he was about to undergo. But the warmth and excitement he had initially felt at what Peggy had said died all too fast because of course it would be just his luck to finally meet a gal that enjoyed his company, liked him for who he was, a gal who he felt comfortable with and attracted to, just as he was about to undergo whatever the hell this procedure entailed before he shipped off to goodness knows where.

Fate was a cruel mistress sometimes.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, and it wasn’t long before the car pulled up at the side of a fairly busy street and Steve frowned, following Agent Carter’s lead, climbing out of the vehicle. He took a quick look around. There were plenty of people on the sidewalks in the summer sun, going about their everyday business, none paying him any attention.

“This way.” Agent Carter spoke and he spun to follow her, taking a look up at the fairly non-descript shop called ‘Brooklyn Antiques’ which she was leading him towards.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Follow me.” Peggy completely ignored his question and instead walked into the shop, Steve behind her, placing his hat on his head.  The bell above the door rang as Peggy pushed it open, Steve pausing to shut it behind him as Agent Carter strolled into the dimly lit, crowded shop. It smelt of old leather, wax and furniture polish and was crammed full of all sorts of intriguing items that Steve would normally have found fascinating.

 But as it stood he was just plain confused.

Peggy stopped still as an old woman with grey hair, clad in a floaty dress and a pink cardigan emerged through a set of heavy drapes and stopped, smiling at them both. “Wonderful Weather this morning, aint it?” she spoke.

 “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.” Peggy replied.

 At her words the woman gave an almost in perceptible nod and moved to the desk which held the cash register. Steve heard a faint buzz and then Peggy gently gestured once more for him to follow her. He did so as she walked through the drapes the woman had emerged from into a crowded store room of sorts which held photos, heavy gilded frames, basically everything his Ma would have labelled junk. He stopped besides Peggy as she looked at a huge book shelf which covered nearly the entire back wall and then to his absolute astonishment the book shelf simply opened towards him revealing that it was actually a set of solid steel doors.

 Steve’s mouth dropped open as he was now facing a huge corridor which was in use by a number of military and medical staff walking by. Agent Carter stepped in and he did the same, following her down, glancing every so often to his side at the Military Police Officers and soldiers, trying to figure out how the hell all of this was hidden from public sight on the outside. Eventually they reached a set of double doors which were pulled open and Steve found himself on the mezzanine balcony of a huge circular room filled with machinery, some kind of pod in the middle of the chamber he was looking over. It was full of doctors and technicians, all dressed in white lab coats and the entire room fell silent as everyone looked up at him. He immediately spotted Katie, stood by Dr Erskine. His eyes locked onto hers and even from the distance he was away he could see they were shining in the light of the lab.

 Agent Carter took a deep breath and tuned to her right, Steve hastily following her down the metal steps to the lower part of the chamber. He strode over to where Dr Erskine was waiting, file in hand besides Katie who smiled at him. 

“Hi.” She said gently and he smiled back at her, swallowing a little as his attention turned to Dr Erskine as the doctor spoke.

“Good morning.” He smiled, shaking Steve’s hand when suddenly a camera flashed as a photographer who Steve hadn’t noticed snapped a shot, causing Steve to blink a little. “Please, not now.” Erskine protested and the photographer made a hasty retreat, ushered away by Peggy as she followed him from the chamber, directing him away from the equipment and up the stairs to the side.

Steve turned to his right, looking at the pod, his eyes roving all the dials and the various components, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

 “Are you ready?” Katie asked softly and Steve nodded his head, turning back to her.

 “Good.” Erskine spoke. “Take off your shirt, your tie and your hat.”

“Maybe the hat first.” Katie quipped, pointing out the order Erskine had said the clothing items in was a little awry and Erskine looked at her, sarcastically. She met his stare with an equally sassy one of her own, a cheeky grin on her face as she shrugged.

 Steve did as he was told, handing his items of clothing off to a nurse who smiled, taking it away before Erskine directed Steve up the steps to the left of the pod. He climbed up, shuffled around slightly as Katie watched him lay down, his head on the leather headrest at the top.

“Comfortable?” Katie asked him.

“It’s a little big.” Steve joked, smiling and she gave a soft chuckle, reaching out to touch his arm. Her hand was surprisingly warm and she left it there for just long enough before she pulled back as Erskine appeared by her side, smiling. “You save me any of that schnapps?” Steve looked at him.

“Not as much as I should have.” Erskine almost grimaced, “sorry. Next time” at that he stepped back. “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

Steve glanced to his left and for the first time caught a glimpse of Katie’s brother up close as he strode towards them, clad in a smart pair of slacks, white shirt, tie and waistcoat.

“Levels at 100%.” Howard replied as he stopped besides his sister, taking a look at Steve. Now they were side by side, the resemblance between the two was clear to see. Same nose, cheekbones, but Katie’s hair was a lighter shade, her eyes a warm, striking green where Howard’s were a deep brown.

 “Good.” Erskine turned away as Howards eyes roved over Steve a little.

 “We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready,” Howard smiled, “as we’ll ever be.”

“He’s not a damned fish in a bowl, Howie.” Katie nudged her brother as he was still staring at Steve. Howard turned to face her, his eyebrow arched, before he gave Steve one last look and headed off towards some kind of machine in the far corner of the room.

 “Ass.” Katie shook her head before she glanced at Steve. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” She dropped her voice, “If you’re having any…” “I’m not.” Steve shook his head.

 “Okay.” She took a deep breath, and for a second looked as though she was going to say something else but she was interrupted by Erskine.

 “Agent Stark? Don’t you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?”

“Oh, erm, yeah, of course. Sorry.” She nodded and turned once more to look back at Steve. Again, she made to say something, but clearly decided against it. Instead she reached out, gave his hand a soft squeeze before she walked away. Steve watched her go and, as she approached the stairs, she stopped and looked back at him, her face softening once more into an almost shy little smile before she turned away again. 

Steve’s head rolled back round, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His heart was racing now, and he wasn’t quite sure whether that was all down to the procedure or the fact that her hand on his had jolted another memory of their time together the previous night. Luckily, before he had time to dwell on it too much, there was a loud booming noise as Erskine loudly tapped a microphone.

“Do you hear me? Is this on?” Satisfied that it was, the doctor turned and looked up at the small group gathered to watch in the glass walled room on the level above the atrium. “Ladies and gentlemen, today we take not another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace.”

As Erskine spoke two nurses pulled down the large rectangular shaped pads at either side of the chamber, laying them flush to Steve’s chest.

“We begin with a series of micro injections into the subjects major muscle groups. The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change.” Erskine continued as the nurses retrieved the vials of blue coloured liquid, slotting them into the appropriate receptacles along the side of the chamber by Steve’s hips. “And then to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays.”

 Erskine walked back to Steve’s side as a nurse approached him with a syringe. She inserted it into Steve’s shoulder and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as she pulled the needle out of his skin.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Steve spoke, pleasantly surprised at how easy that had been. He wasn’t a huge fan of needles, having spent most of his childhood one way or another being stabbed by them for his various ailments, but he’d learned to cope with them.

However, his relief was short lived.

“That was penicillin.” Erskine looked at him and Steve felt not only apprehension creeping back into his system, but a deep embarrassment at being so dumb as to think it would be that simple.

Erskine then cleared his throat and spoke once more to the others in the room. “Serum infusion beginning in five, four…” at that two further pads like the one on his chest lowered, cuffing his arms a little “…three, two…” Erskine gently patted Steve’s shoulder “…one.”

 Steve felt the sharp cone-like spikes of the pads attached to his body piercing his skin and he could actually feel the serum as it flowed into his body. It was cold, like he’d dipped each limb into an icy lake, and the shock of it forced his eyes wide open.

“Now, Mr. Stark,” he heard Erskine say and, after a second or two he felt the pod move into an upright positions, the sides and top parts enclosing him inside. He gave a snort as he realised that the glass screen at the front, designed for whoever was in here to be able to see out of was a good 6 inches too high.

 Steve took a deep breath and then there was a little knock on the outside of the capsule.

 “Steven, can you hear me?” Erskine asked.

“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Steve joked, making light of what was happening, the sweat already beading on his brow. And, if he was honest, he probably could have happily peed right then, more out of nerves than anything else.

“We will proceed.” Steve heard Erskine say and then a few seconds later the capsule he was in was flooded with a warm light, as the Vita Rays were turned on.

  “That’s ten percent.” Steve could hear Howard’s voice. “Twenty percent. Thirty…that’s forty percent.”

As the count increased so did the intensity of the light and heat. What started off feeling like a pleasant dose of summer sun was rapidly becoming unbearable. Even the brightest sunlight he’d ever been in on Coney Island during the summer was nothing compared to this. He skin felt like it was on fire.

“That’s fifty percent. Sixty. Seventy.”

Despite his best attempts, the burning was simply too much and Steve couldn’t keep the yell of pain from bursting out of his mouth any longer as the vita rays washed over him. He was hot, hotter than he had ever been before. His skin was bubbling almost as if his blood was boiling similar to a kettle of water. He was vaguely aware of voices outside the chamber and herd Katie’s loud yell as it rang around the air.

“Shut it down.”

Erskine’s voice hit his ears as the doctor banged on the chamber he was in “Steven!”

“You heard her, shut it down!” Agent Carter’s voice was clear and then he heard Erskine once more as the Doctor frantically shouted. 

“Kill the reactor, Mr. Stark! Turn it off! Kill it! Kill the reactor!”

“No, don’t!” Steve yelled back, finally finding his voice. There was no way he was quitting, not after he’d come this far. He could take this. Pain was nothing, he felt it every day of his damned life. “I can do this!”

Famous last words. The heat increased, the pain increased, it was too much. Every muscle in his body was searing in agony and it felt like someone was lancing him with red hot needles over and over again…

But then suddenly it went dark. The pain was gone, the heat was gone and all Steve could feel now was an overwhelming sense of calm and tiredness even, like he’d just been on another one of those damned runs with the unit. His chest was heaving as he gulped in air, his head falling to the side as panted, waiting for his body to recover. After waiting, for what seemed like forever but was in reality mere seconds, he heard Erskine call out to Howard again and then the doors to the pod opened, the cool air hitting Steve’s perspiring skin.

He stumbled out of the pod supported by two people, he had no idea who, as his eyes were screwed shut, his head bowed as he took deep gulps of air. His legs felt heavy and he was a little unbalanced, as if his centre of gravity had changed somewhat, but as he took a shaky step forward he noticed how clear his chest was. His breathing wasn’t wheezy in the slightest and with every breath he took he felt stronger, less lightheaded. All in all, despite feeling completely overwhelmed he felt good.

“I did it.” He panted a little, his eyes still closed as he took a shaky step forward.

“Yeah, yeah. I think we did it.” Erskine’s voice came from his right, followed by Howard’s from his left which was laced with pride.

“We actually did it.”

“How do you feel?” Another familiar voice spoke and with a deep breath he straightened up and looked down at Katie before he glanced around the chamber and realised that for the first time in his life he was looking down at people.

“Taller.” He answered a little facetiously, glancing at Katie as she reached out to touch his chest, swallowing a little as she hastily withdrew her hand.

“You look taller.” She handed him a T-shirt she took off another member of the nursing staff. Steve took it with a thanks and moved to pull it over his head, his breathing finally evening out and he turned to face a doctor who approached him a little nervously.

“Mr. Rogers, we just need to-“

But whatever it was that they needed Steve never found out as at that point there was a loud explosion from the room over the atrium, showering them in glass. Instinctively, Steve pulled Katie towards him, curling his body around hers to shield her from the debris before he stood up tall as he heard Erskine yelling.

“Stop him!”

Then there was a gun shot and, as he wheeled round, he saw Erksine drop to the floor. Katie pushed past Steve whipping a gun from her hip taking aim as the culprit ran up the stairs with the two female agents in persuit.

Steve knelt beside Erskine, his eyes locking onto the doctor's as he struggled for air. Erskine opened his mouth, but shut it again, and Steve realised from the blood that was pooling around the doctors body, there was nothing he could do. Erskine raised his right hand, and simply prodded Steve’s chest gently, right above his heart, similar to the way he’d pointed at him the night before.

“Not a perfect soldier, but a good man…”

The words echoed in Steve’s brain as he watched Erskine’s eyes close as his head rolled to the right, his breathing stopped. Steve took a deep breath of his own and felt another heat radiating through his body, this one out and out anger as he raised his head slowly to look at the stairs the suspect had run up mere moments ago. His jaw clenching he sprang to his feet and ran off, taking the steps two at a time. 

As he sprinted through the facility he could hear gunshots and explosions from the street and as he emerged into the street he saw the woman from earlier led on the floor, not moving, a wound to her chest. Vaulting over her he saw Katie to his left tending to someone who was down on the sidewalk, whilst Agent Carter was stood in the road, un-moving, arm raised as she shot at a Yellow Taxi which was driving straight for them. He threw himself at Peggy, taking her out of the path of danger as the car sped past

“I had him!”  Agent Carter said with an air of annoyance as they both climbed to their feet.

“Sorry!” Steve yelled as he started to run after the car, surprised momentarily at the way his legs just seemed to move with little or no effort, covering far more ground than he was used to. He picked up the pace, tracking the car as he went, taking a short cut down a road to his left. But he was going too fast and, as he rounded a corner, he lost control over his new power and crashed straight through the window of a Bridal Wear store, taking out the display. He jumped back up, straight onto the street, tossing another apology over his shoulder as he cut down a narrow alleyway with a chainmail fence at the bottom.

The fence was ten feet tall, easily, and Steve picked up speed a little more with the aim of jumping as high up it as he could get before scrambling over the top, but as he took off from the floor he realised that he was going to clear it. He was going to clear a ten foot fucking fence.

Tucking his legs up, he landed easily and ran out onto a street full of cars, his hands held up, protests of “woah, whoa, whoa” slipping form his mouth automatically as they all skidded to a stop trying to avoid him. He spun to his left, spotted the cab and continued his chase as it weaved itself in and out of the traffic.

He was gaining on it now and he dug a little deeper, realising he had a lot more energy in his tank, his bare feet slapping the wet concrete of the ground. As he drew closer to the car he knew that the only way to get the vehicle to stop was by getting inside it, and to do that he needed to physically get hold of it first of all. An idea suddenly came to him as he saw a car in front of him and he approached he hopped up onto the trunk then the roof, and then to the car in front before jumping onto the back of a truck. With a final leap he flung himself at the yellow taxi landing flat on the roof, his hands gripping either side of the sills above the doors as it began to sharply weave side to side. It took a sharp turn to the left, then right, then left again, forcing Steve to adjust his hold as it tore down a narrow street before emerging on the road which led to the pier. This gave Steve a little time to steady himself and he rose tentatively onto his hands and knees before there was a loud bang and a bullet shot through the roof of the car. Another few shots came, Steve dodging them all as he slid down the side of the car, wrenching the passenger door open. But before he could climb in, the man shot at him, meaning Steve had to let go with his right arm to avoid taking the bullet straight in the chest, but by shooting at him, his target had taken his eyes off the road, meaning he hadn’t noticed the two trucks emerging in front of him. The taxi crashed straight into them and flipped over sideways, beginning to roll and Steve let go, tumbling forward onto the floor before he came to a stop.

Steve rose to his feet and headed forwards as his target crawled from the car. He watched as the man stood, pointing his gun towards Steve and shot, missing him, the various people screaming as the gun went off. Steve picked up the door of the car which was lying in the road and held it in front of him as the man shot twice, the second bullet coming through the door and grazing the left hand side of Steve’s abdomen. As he peered round the side of the door he noticed that the man had now taken a young boy hostage, his arm pinned around his chest as he dragged him backwards, the boy’s mother screaming and begging for him to stop. Steve tossed the door to the side, following him, his right hand clutching at the wound to his left.

“Get back!” The man warned with the boy dangling in his arms as he backed away. Steve dodged another bullet, flattening himself against the wall. The man ran off towards the dockside and Steve followed using a large iron buoy as shield from another incoming shot. He hastily followed, keeping his back to the damp brick of the shipping company building, and as he peered round the arch he saw the man raise his gun and press the barrel to the boys head.

Steve’s blood ran cold, “wait, don’t! Don’t!” He protested, approaching with his arms up. At that the man pointed the gun at Steve and pulled the trigger, Steve automatically flinching as he awaited the shot that never came because the gun was empty. As he had nothing else to do, the hostile dragged the boy towards the side of the docks and Steve realised what he was intending to do.

“No! Don’t!”, but it was too late. With a shove the kid went flying into the water and the man turned, sprinting away. Steve ran to the edge to see the kid treading water, looking up at him.

“Go get him! I can swim!”

Decision made, Steve sprinted after his target who had disappeared, but as he ran he noticed to the right in the water some kind of sleek, black submarine pulling away. With a spring off the edge Steve dove into the icy, cold water, swimming in the vessel's slipstream. Whether the sub wasn’t going that fast, or if it was his ability to simply swim faster, Steve had no idea, but he caught it easily, punching straight through into the cockpit, flooding it with water. He then wrenched the canopy open and pulled the man sharply upwards sending him flying straight out of the surface and onto the cold stone of the dockside where he landed with a thud.

Steve followed quickly, climbing a set of steps out of the water and as the man got up, Steve saw the flash of a blade in his hand. With a reflex that was purely automatic, he dodged out of the way aiming a kick to the man’s chin which sent him sprawling backwards. The knife flew from his hand, but so did a familiar vial which Steve suddenly realised was full of Erskine’s serum. It shattered on the floor, the blue liquid pooling on the damp cobbles as Steve gripped the lapels of the man’s jacket, pulling him harshly forwards.

“Who the hell are you?” He demanded.

 “The first of many," the man spoke in a thick accent. “Cut off one head-” at that he popped a tooth loose and swallowed it, looking at Steve, his jaw set, “-two more shall take its place.”

 Steve frowned, perplexed as none of that made any sense, until he spoke again, through the foam that had now started to bubble from his mouth.

“Hail HYDRA!”

With that the man gave a little grunt, his pupils completely dilated as he grew heavy and limp in Steve’s grip. Steve let go, the body falling to the ground as he straightened up, his chest heaving as he stared at the dead man on the floor.

Steve couldn’t help the disappointment flooding his system at the fact he hadn’t managed to capture him alive. But that said, whilst he hadn’t managed to find out who he was exactly,  he now knew who he was working for and at least they’d managed to stop the serum from falling into the wrong hands.

The serum.

At that Steve glanced down at his hands, which were both significantly larger, then to his forearms where the muscles flexed as he opened and closed his fists. With everything that had happened he hadn’t had chance to appreciate the extent to which the procedure had actually enhanced him. He’d run with a speed he had never thought possible, his lungs had stretched to a capacity that now, he thought about it, stunned him, his ability to swim the way he had, leap, the pure athleticism he had displayed in that short ten minute chase was astonishing.

His hands flew to his stomach to find a hard set of abs, his fingers tracing the definition of the planes of muscle under the wet t-shirt which clung to his body. His hands moved upwards almost tentatively, reaching the hard curve of his pecs and it was at that point a voiced broke through his stunned thoughts.

“Steve!”

He looked up to see Agent Stark running towards him. Behind her, Agent Carter and a few other soldiers and police officers were working to keep the now assembled crowd on the pier back. “Are you okay?  You’re bleeding.”

Steve glanced down at his shirt and noticed for the first time the blood on the white material. He shook his head.

“He shot me but it's just a graze, I’m fine.” He jerked his head towards the guy on the ground by his feet. “More than can be said for him…”

She glanced down at the body on the floor, blinking as if she was seeing the dead man for the first time before she dropped to her knees, her fingers pressing into his neck checking for a pulse.

“Did he drown?”

“No.” Steve said, and he quickly explained about the submarine and pulling the man from the water. As he explained about the vial of serum, he saw Katie’s eyes flick to the broken glass on the floor before her face darted back to Steve as he told her about the man having loosened his tooth and bit something. “I’m not sure what it was but…”

“He bit something?” Katie’s entire face changed into a look of shock, her eyes darting side to side as she wrenched the guys mouth open, her fingers jamming straight inside.

 Steve grimaced. “What…”

“Son of a bitch.” she pulled her hand back and knelt back on her heels, wiping her hands very ungracefully on the side of her skirt.

“I’m not…”

“Cyanide capsule.” She sighed, “a lot of the intelligence organisations provide them to their undercover agents and they keep them hidden in a false tooth. If you’re caught, you can effectively kill yourself before you’re taken and, well…”

“Tortured?” Steve finished for her. Katie took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Questioned was the word I was going to use but…” she shrugged, looking around. “He was clearly a Nazi Spy.”

Steve looked at her, nodding. “He was HYDRA.”

“HYDRA?”

“Heil HYDRA.” Steve looked down at the dead man, “last thing he said before he died.”

 Katie bit her lip, “fuck,” she mumbled, before she looked up at Steve. “Sorry, just, well Erskine warned Phillips not to be complacent about Schmidt but Phillips was adamant that Hitler was the big threat.” She bowed her head a little, her shoulders slumping and Steve took a deep breath as he realised that the Doctor was no longer with them having died in his arms little over ten minutes ago. It left him feeling hollow, sick even and from the looks of it Katie was feeling just as bad.

But now wasn’t the time.

“I err…” Steve cleared his throat a little, composing himself. “I’m not following? Why did Erskine differentiate? I mean, I thought HYDRA were Hitler’s deep science organisation?”

Katie glanced down once more before she turned her pretty face back to Steve, “Yes, they are. But Erskine always said Schmidt had ambitions beyond Hitler’s. Something Peggy backed up from her time undercover.”

 At that point she made to stand and automatically Steve offered her his hand. She took it and he made to pull her up, but with his new strength he was far more forceful than he had meant to be and she gave a little yelp of surprise as she was jerked straight into his chest.

“Easy Soldier.” She gasped, her hands falling to his biceps as she steadied herself.

“Sorry," he hastily apologised, his own hands settling gently on either side of her ribcage, the rough tweed of her uniform jacket prickly under the pads of his fingers. “I’m not used to…” He trailed off as he realised that not only was he looking down at her now, but his new large frame completely dwarfed hers.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice was equally breathy as his, her eyes still on his face and she gave him a little smile before she moved one hand upwards, gently cupping his cheek, almost as if she was checking something, which to be fair, she might have been. Steve had no idea what he looked like, he hadn’t seen a mirror yet. The only parts of him he’d managed to get a glimpse at so far were his arms and legs.

What he did know was that her touch was blazing on his skin, more than it had been the night before. He could hear her breathing too, and he could see every single detail on her face and her eyes. Not only were they green, but they were the most gorgeous shade of green he had ever seen in his life. He could see the dots of brown speckled throughout and the slight ring of amber surrounding her irises, reminding him of the sun. Full of warmth and power….

“Hey, you okay?” Katie frowned. 

“Yeah, erm, I just, I can see better.” Steve replied simply, as her hand gently curled in on itself as she dropped it to her side. “Has it…” he began to ask and Katie smiled, shaking her head.

“Still handsome.” She smiled, and Steve felt his neck flush with heat again before a voice cut through their moment.

“Did you get it?” Colonel Phillips was striding towards them. Katie moved back from Steve, turning towards her Superior, steeling her composure. 

“No,” she shook her head, before gesturing to the shattered vial on the floor. 

“Shit.” Phillips exclaimed with a groan.

“But neither did they.” Katie looked at him, before she turned to look at Steve once more, “And there is one upside to all this…”

“Don’t you dare tell me to look on the Brightside, Stark.” Phillips glared at her as she took a deep breath, realising her head, chin jutting defiantly towards him.

 “At least we know it works," she said simply.

 Phillips looked at her, then to Steve, before he gave a snort. “One isn’t enough.”

 Steve inhaled deeply, his frustration mounting but it was Agent Stark that spoke next.

 “Well, one is all you’ve got. I suggest you start treating him with a little more respect seeing as he just chased down a damned HYDRA operative through twelve blocks of Brooklyn, pulled him out of some underwater craft and took a bullet for his troubles.”

 Phillips’ jaw twitched at the way he was being spoken to and Steve grimaced slightly in anticipation of the incoming dressing down Katie was going to get, but it never arrived.

 “HYDRA?” Phillips blinked and Kate nodded.

“Yes, Sir.”

 The man took a deep breath and then turned to Steve, his eyes travelling up and down his body “Rogers, you hurt?”

“No, Sir.”

Philips inhaled again and then turned to Peggy “Agent Carter, I want a recovery unit down here for this so called underwater craft. You two…” he spun back to face Steve and Katie, “back to the lab so the Medical Team can assess you. If you are truly the only super soldier I’m getting, then the last thing I want is you to drop dead of complications.”

 “That means he cares," Katie looked up at Steve who glanced at her as he saw a smile tug at her lips.

 “You’re gettin’ on my nerves,” Phillips pointed at her, before he gave her a filthy look and turned to leave.

 “Is it authority in general you got a problem with or just him?” Steve asked after a moment or two and Katie let out a little chuckle.

 “Believe it or not I actually like Chester.” She smiled, “I just enjoy irritating him more. Come on, we’re attracting a bit of a crowd so…” She gently squeezed his hand before she began walking the same way Colonel Philips had done a few moments before, Steve following, pausing slightly as he felt a tug on the side of his T-shirt. He stopped and turned to find the kid who he’d last seen bobbing up and down in the muggy water of the docks grinning up at him.

 “That was swell!” The kid laughed and Steve raised his eyebrows.

 “That’s not exactly the word I would use…”

 “No, but the way you ran and jumped in and then threw him outta the water like BAM!” The kid smirked and Steve felt his neck growing warm at the praise, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “What’s your name, Mister?”

 “Err Steve.”

“Marty!” A voiced called and the boy turned, Steve following his gaze to see a woman who had been stood talking to a police officer, hastily making her way over. “Come on.”

 “Ma’am.” Steve greeted her as she stopped in front of him, taking a breath.

 “You saved him.” She said, her voice cracking.

“Oh, no, I…”

“Thank you,” she stood on her toes and kissed Steve’s cheek before she dropped an arm round her son’s shoulders and turned him away, gently talking to him.

 Steve stood stock still for a moment, swallowing, before he turned to see Katie watching him, her eyebrow arched a little, smile spread across her pretty face.

 “A regular superhero,” she teased and Steve rolled his eyes at her as he fell into step besides her.

 “Hardly.” He scoffed, “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Katie stopped and turned to face him, shaking her head, “you still don’t get it do you?”

“Get what?” He frowned as she began to walk again.

 “How many other kids from Brooklyn do you know that would have just done what you did?”

“Well its hardly a fair comparison is it?” Steve pointed out as they walked down the side of the building, Katie nodding to Agent Carter as they passed “How many others do you know that just got converted into…well, a Super Soldier or whatever the hell they’re calling me?”

“You had no idea what that serum had done, other than make you taller,” Katie shot back as they moved back towards the entrance of the pier. “But you took off after that guy, without so much as a second thought for your safety.”

 “I just did what anyone would have done.” He sighed, a little uncomfortable at her praise.

 She stopped at the side of a black car and turned to face him, her face soft, “no, you did what that kid from Brooklyn would have done.” Her eyes remained locked onto his before they were interrupted by an Army official who handed Steve a blanket. He took it with a thanks, wrapping it around his shoulders, despite the fact that he didn’t feel cold in the slightest, in fact he felt a pretty strong sense of warmth.

 And as he watched Katie climb into the car he was pretty sure that wasn’t solely attributable to Erskine’s serum which was now coursing through his veins. 

**** Chapter 4

[yandere-mha-blog]

Part 15: A story for the Dabi lovers

Mina was busy doing her nails while looking at the news, she was happy to see your morning text saying you are going out with your friend to get some food for his house, she would need to know later if this friend of yours was that guy you had the hots for. Mina then nearly knocked her nail polish bottle over when she saw the head line

“Keigo Takami, the famous model, was arrested for a Dui, holy shit!” the read back to herself as she had to call you up and tell you think

“Mina what is it?” you asked as Dabi was checking out

“(Name) (Name) (Name), did you see the news!” Mina yelled at you

“No, what news?” You asked

“He got arrested, Keigo was arrested (name) he was found passed out in the park smelling like booze!”

“What?” you said “But...Keigo never drank?”

“OH who cares! Celebrate!” Mina said, and you hung up this brought up more questions

“Who was that?” Dabi asked as the two of you left the shop

“MY friend Mina read this news story, Keigo was arrested for a Dui.” you said

“Well...that is news to me, isn't that good for you?” Dabi asked

“Well, it doesn't make sense,Keigo never drank.” you said, shit he didn't know that detail “He must have been really losing it if he started drinking out of nowhere.”

Oh good you suspected nothing of him, still why did you not look happy.

“You still look sad.” Dabi said

“I just know the damn agency is going to get him out of this, although maybe they will keep him on a shorter leash now, but I know he isn't going to jail.” you said

And you were right on who rigged the system was, he got out with a couple of fines, since nobody but himself was hurt, his fans all though he started drinking due to a messy breakup, once again no blame his way, but the modeling agency did make him go back, so there was a bit of relief, and they did keep him on a tight leash, the pr team was even more involved and observing him like a hawk.

Keigo knew to just take the punches, couldn't let people know that he didn't because the dui, but was knocked out after he tried to break into his ex's apartment to take her back with him, only to be ambushed by her boytoy who knocked him out and framed him, dabi may of won this round but he wasn't done yet. 

You still knew he was out there ad he knew your address, but then once again Dabi was growing distance once Keigo left, Dabis job was done in his mind, he had helped you , now it was time to make hsi exit, you had been through enough a relationship with him would only bring you more misery, he did just frame your ex after all.

You were whipping down the counter as you heard the bell ring.

“Welcome in.” you said and got to the register, what can i get for you?”

“You know a guy named dabi?” the lady asked you

“...excuse me?” you asked

“Dabi, about 5,10, dyes his hair black , dark grungy abstract and kind of smells like coffee and cigarette smoke, you know him?”

“Who are you?” You asked still very confused on who this lady was

“I'm Hailey.” She said “Dabi was my ex boyfriend  about a year and a half ago, he has something of mine.”

“Oh well if I do see him I can tell him you stopped by.”

“Gee thanks for nothing, and get me a small americano.” She said and gave gave you  five “To go.”

Okay that was very weird as she left, she does have the same look as Dabi, and Ex, well you guess he would have an ex lover, still the vibe she gave off was very, very off putting.

“Hey dabi, do you know a girl named Hailey?” you texted him

Dabi finally got the last of his boxes put away when he reached for his phone, then that name Hailey, fuck.

“What's wrong with your face, looks more disturbed  the usual.” Tomura said

“I think my ex just found her.” Dabi said

“You mean the crazy one you told me about...well good luck with that.”

“Don’t talk to her, look, I'll meet you at your work after i'm done.” Dabi texted back

“Why?”

How does one explain Hailey except the fact she is extremely clingy and unstable, and the breakup was very, very messy.

It was a bit weird to you that Dabi wanted to meet up with all of a sudden, you saw him walking up to the coffee shop and you waved at him

“Hey haven seen you in a while, you wanted to see me so suddenly.” you said

“IS she around here?” Dabi asked

“WHo, hailey?” you asked “She came in asking me if i knew you and said you had something of yours-”

“Look if you see her again, tell her you don't know me, never have seen me, and that i don't come here, look she is my ex and i think she is after blood.” Dabi said

“What is she harasseing you?” you asked “Dabi if you need help i can-”

“No you stay out of this-”

“Aww why dabi.” hailey said as she turned the corner and faced him “LOng time no see asshole.”

“UGh great.” Dabi muttered “What do you want?”

“OH owch, you don't look very happy to see me.” she said, i knew you had a soft spot for this girl, just had to wait till you showed up here again.”

“Hailey im going to say this in the nicest way possible, but fuck off.”

“OH can it im not here for you, im here to warn her.”

“Me?” you said

“Yeah this guy, trust me you don't want anything to do with him, he is the most emotionally unavailable man out there.”

“WHat?”

“Let me guess, he went on a couple of dates with you, and only comes around when you have an issue, till you like him, and the second you two get close he withdraws.”she said, and owch she hit that one right on the head “He said to me he was busy with work, then i get word he found another girl.”

“You have no right to stalk him like that.” you cut her off 

“Im trying to warn you here-”

“Well i didn't ask you to, you are stalking him, you knew he was seeing me at the coffee shop, now leave.”

“Fine, don't say I didn't warn you.” She said “And as for you asshole, have fun breaking another girl's heart.”

[pepethehobbit]

It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)

3 times people wrongly assume Jens and Lucas are in a relationship and one time they’re right. (ao3)

1.

“You have the present right?”, Lucas asks, probably for the third time in the 15 minute walk it took them from Jens's house to Robbe and Sander's new flat. Jens feels like he should be annoyed with the lack of trust Lucas seems to have in him, but he can't help the fond laugh that escapes his lips.

“Yes, Luc. I have the present. Would you chill? Why are you so nervous?” Jens places what he hopes is a comforting hand on Luc's shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. It seems to work because the tension is visibly draining from Lucas' shoulders under Jens' touch. It makes Jens weirdly proud.

“It's the first time that I'm meeting all of your friends.” He must notice Jens' confused gaze and continues to explain before Jens can interrupt. “No, I mean like all of your friends. Of course I know the brothers and Sander, but I haven't met Jana yet, or Milan, or Luca or Zoe and Senne and I know that they are like super important to you as well.” Lucas feels like maybe he should say more but he stops there. Jens seems to read him perfectly anyway.

“And so what? You're afraid they won't like you?”

“No, I mean, yes kinda? To be honest? We've spent a lot of time together lately and I don't want them to think I'm holding you back from spending time with them.”  

Jens tries to hold back an amused laugh but he is hugely unsuccessful in doing so and before Lucas can get the chance of being offended he tries his best to reassure him: “Leave it to you, Luc, that you actually think about stuff like that. Honestly, they will understand and they are going to love you and you them. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

Lucas sighs but Jens can tell that he was at least a little bit successful in calming his nerves. It surprises him sometimes how easy it is for him to read him. Technically, they've known each other since elementary school. They were best friends, even before Robbe entered their little group but then Lucas moved back to the Netherlands when they were eleven and they lost contact. Once, out of curiosity, Jens looked for a Lucas van der Heijden on Instagram when he was sixteen, just to see if he would find him and maybe see what he was up to these days. When he actually found him a weird but not entirely uncomfortable feeling began to stir in his stomach as he hovered over the follow button. In the end he chickened out of pressing the button that would give them the chance to reconnect. The same  feeling came back when he started uni three weeks ago and he felt someone tap on his shoulder when he was standing in front of the cafeteria with Robbe and the rest of the brothers.

Jens turned around, curious, and couldn't hold back his mouth from dropping in a really unflattering way, overcome with shock and surprise. “Lucas?”, Jens had asked, not really trusting his eyes. Lucas let out a small but pleased laugh and nodded his head excitedly in confirmation.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas continued to smile at him, but it turned into a teasing one when he looked around, surrounded by students and university buildings and answered: “Studying?”

Jens had rolled his eyes at that, he wanted to come back with something equally smart but then he remembered the others were still with him when he saw the confused faces of Moyo, Aaron and even Robbe, who didn't seem to recognize him right away. He introduced them to Lucas and from there on they basically spend every single moment together, either with the brothers or alone. They seemed to fall right back into that easy dynamic they had when they were still children but there was something else as well. At least for Jens, that easy dynamic came with an added need for closeness. Somehow, he really can't imagine a day where he wouldn't want to spend time with Lucas. It might have to do with the fact that when Lucas smiles at him with the bluest eyes he has ever seen Jens feels like something that has been missing from his life has been returned to him. Jens isn't ready to question this feeling yet, just like he is ignoring the way his stomach feels all fluttery and excited when Lucas attention seems to be solely on him.

Naturally, Robbe and Sander invited him to their housewarming party and Jens and Lucas have decided to go together. They even found a little present for them when they were out on a little tour of Antwerp, with Jens showing Lucas the city and all his favorite places. “Jens, I have lived here before, you know? I really don't need the tour,” Lucas has said when Jens suggested it. “Bullshit, Luc. That was ages ago. I need to show you all the good spots that we didn't know of back then.” Jens also took him to that little secluded corner by the Scheldt that he sometimes goes to when he wants to be alone. He hadn't even consciously thought about it in the moment, it just felt so utterly natural for him to show Lucas his hiding spot. Jens only really noticed that he did that when he was home again and replayed the events of the day in his head. He wondered only briefly about what that could mean and then he brushed that thought aside and just decided to text Lucas instead, asking when they should meet up at the skate park the next day.

Two weeks later, of which they had almost spend every day together, they're now on the steps of Sander's and Robbe's new flat, about to ring the door bell. Jens still has his hand on Lucas' shoulder, squeezes once again and asks: “Ready?”

Lucas nods and rings the doorbell that reads Driesen/IJzermans. They get buzzed in and on their short climb up to the first floor they could already hear the muffled sound of music and smell the smallest hint of smoke and alcohol. Jens and Lucas follow the sound and are greeted with an excited Milan, who opens the door at the end of the hall for them.

“Ahhh, Robbe! Sander!” Milan cries with a look inside the apartment, searching for the owners. He then turned around again, now face to face with Lucas and Jens who have arrived at the doorstep, standing next to each other with their shoulders and arms touching all the way. If Jens were to reach out with his fingers, they would brush against Lucas'. “Another couple to make me feel sufficiently single tonight, how nice. Robbe told me all about you two. Come in, come in, the lovebirds are probably in the living room somewhere.”

It's not exactly the word “couple” that makes him freeze on the spot and it's also not the thought about what Milan means when he says Robbe has told him about them. It's more the way he can feel Lucas tense immediately next to him and then not at all as he takes a step sideways to create some distance between them. Hurt flashes through him for a second, hurt at the thought that Lucas is ashamed at the thought of them together. But then he thinks about the fact that Lucas hasn't been out that long, a fact he told him when Jens took him to his hiding spot. Maybe, Jens thinks, it's an unconscious reaction Lucas makes whenever people assume the one thing about him he tried to hide and suppress for so long. Maybe he just isn't ready to be openly affectionate yet even if they are just friends.

Lucas and Jens haven't moved from their spot in the doorway and Milan eyes them curiously. “Are you coming or what?”

“We are not a couple. Lucas is just a friend,” Jens clarifies finally. He hopes he is sufficient enough in hiding his disappointment.

“Yeah, what exactly did Robbe tell you?” Lucas asks with a laugh, but it sounds forced.

Milan seems still really confused and skeptical. “He told me about how Jens doesn't have time for him right now, because he met you and now spends all his time with you. He said, and I quote 'They can't get enough of each other.' Are you sure you're not together?”

Jens has to will the blush away that threatened to spread at Milan's words. Although it definitely wasn't in the way Milan implies, they did spend almost every minute of every day together. He woke up with thoughts of Luc, texted him to ask if he has time, they hung out all day and at night in bed he would think about the day and how happy he is that Lucas is back in his life. But now, when he looks over at Lucas, he seems to be uncomfortable with what Robbe had said and Milan interpreted the wrong way.

Probably firmer than he really needs to, but hoping it makes Lucas more comfortable about the situation if he dispels all possibilities of them being together, he says: “Yes. We are pretty sure we are not together. Lucas and I were best friends when we were young. We just had a lot to catch up on these last few weeks.”

With that, Milan lets them off the hook and they finally step into the flat. He still doesn't seem to believe them, Jens knows Milan well enough to see that he is not convinced there is nothing between Luc and him. Jens doesn't try to think about it too much. He also tries to direct his thoughts away from the feeling of disappointment that Lucas is so uncomfortable at the thought of them together. The nagging feeling at the back of his throat tells him he knows why he feels that way but he also doesn't want to investigate it further, because his disappointment will only turn into hurt. He tries his best to stay oblivious to the storm inside his head that Milan's words and Lucas's reaction have caused. He isn't ready to admit it and the party is the best way to distract him.

They find Robbe and Sander, give them their present and Jens introduces Lucas to all his other friends. Jana eyes him curiously when he talks about Luc, but he stores that away with the rest of his thoughts concerning his childhood friend. The party is fun, they dance all night and drink even more and Jens nearly forgets all about the things he should probably start thinking about.

2.

It's been a few weeks since the housewarming party and they have yet to talk about the whole “Milan thought we were together” fiasco, and remembering how uncomfortable Lucas seemed at the idea, Jens is scared to bring it up. So they ignore it. It's not like it's a big deal anyway. Milan thought they were together and they cleared that misunderstanding, setting everything straight. There is no reason for Jens to still think about it as much as he does, failing at ignoring it entirely. He tries his best though, tries to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling when he thinks of Lucas as his boyfriend, how proud he would feel if he could actually get to introduce him as such, how nervous and excited he still gets every time they hang out together, how he can't stop staring at his lips when Lucas doesn't notice, how he daydreams about covering those lips with his own, how he just wants to reach out and touch, how he drowns in the bluest eyes in his dreams nearly every night.

“So what do you think? We could combine it with a trip to Utrecht to see my friends?” Lucas asks, snapping Jens out of his sad attempt at ignoring thoughts about the boy right next to him.

“What?” Jens answers confused but Lucas only huffs a laugh. “Honestly, Jens. Where is your head at recently? Have you been listening to anything I have said in the last five minutes?”

Jens tries to think about what they have been talking about, sitting at the familiar spot at the Scheldt that has already kind of become their spot since Jens has shown him his hideout. He comes up with a blank, confused about himself that he got so lost in his head trying and failing not to think about Lucas that he can't even recall what the real one just said to him. He feels how Lucas scoots a bit closer to him on the blanket they share and from the corner of his eye he sees him raising his hand. Jens is still surprised however when that hand is placed gently on his temple, a smooth thumb easing away the crease between his eyebrows. Lucas' touch is soft and careful and Jens tries to ignore the feeling of wanting Lucas to touch him like this all the time, until he's not careful anymore but sure and secure in his movement, because Lucas has done this a million times before. But with so many things concerning him, Jens is widely unsuccessful.

“Hey, are you okay, Jens?” Lucas' voice is soft and low, flowing over with real concern and it's causing a small flutter in Jens' stomach.

“Sorry, I spaced out. I think I'm just tired,” Jens lies and he can see that Lucas doesn't really believe him. But before he can say anything Jens turns to him with a loud exhale and asks: “What were you talking about?” Lucas eyes him skeptically for a moment but something in his voice must have given Lucas reason to not push further.

“I was saying that Kes and Jayden have two spare tickets to see The 1975 in Amsterdam and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? We could make a weekend trip out of it. Go to Utrecht on Friday, you could meet my friends and on Saturday we all take the train to Amsterdam and leave for Antwerp again on Sunday. What do you think?”

Lucas sounds so obviously excited about it and Jens is honored that he wants him to meet his friends and go to a concert of his favorite band with him. It's not really Jens' favorite band, but Lucas has shown him some songs that he really loves and listens to all the time now. So he replied with the only possible answer: “I would love to.”

The answering smile he gets from Lucas is tugging at his heartstrings and as he smiles back just as excited he really hopes that this boy is not going to break his heart.

When Jens gets home after it had started to rain, after they scrambled for their skateboards and the rest of their belongings and after they skated through the summer rain to their respective homes, out of breath from laughing, Jens changes into comfy and dry clothes and throws himself on his bed, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day.

So ignoring isn't really working out for him, Jens notices. But is there an alternative? He can't just go up to Lucas and tell him that he wants to be more than friends. Especially thinking about the tenseness of Lucas' shoulders when Milan referred to them as a couple. For now, he probably can't do much more than to accept that he has feelings for Lucas and hope that they will fade with time, because it doesn't look like Luc is going to return these feelings anytime soon. It's gonna be hard, but that's better than not having Lucas in his life at all.

It's only been a little over a month ago since they met again and Jens already can't imagine a life without him by his side, is confused for a second when he thinks back to outings with the brothers and realizes that Luc wasn't with them. Lucas just fitted himself so perfectly into Jens' life, made himself comfortable and decided to stay. Jens can only hope that Lucas keeps that decision when his feelings will eventually go and ruin everything.

+++

The queue to the venue where they're about to see The 1975 is pretty long. Next to him Lucas bemoans the fact that they will probably get really shit places to see them on stage. He wants to reach out, pull him in a hug or just comfort him somehow, but with Kes and Jayden there he feels weirdly watched. They, Kes especially, have already given Jens some knowing looks during their visit and Jens isn't sure how to interpret them, because sometimes they are accompanied by what Jens guesses are supposed to be meaningful looks towards Lucas. Who mostly ignores them or he just really doesn't seem to notice.

“Oh come on, stop whining. Whose fault was it that we missed the first train because someone couldn't decide on an outfit to wear?” Kes says with a gentle punch to Lucas's shoulder.

“It's my first time seeing them live, I wanna look good.” Lucas replies in a sulk.

“You do.” Jens says before he could even think about it, it just slipped out. The urge to compliment and reassure Lucas is like a reflex he can't control. From of the corner of his eye he can see Kes smile knowingly again but he is more focused on the way Luc's eyes snap up to his, as if searching for something, but then he shakes his head slightly and simply says: “Thanks.”

“Guys, come on! We're about to see our favorite band! Stop complaining. It's gonna be awesome, even if we won't actually see what's going on,” Jayden exclaims excitedly, pulls all three of them into a group hug and ruffles every mop of hair he can possibly reach. Lucas pushes him away with a fond smile, tries to set his hair right again and Jens finds himself thinking that his curls look just as good when they're a little bit messy. He wants to run his hand through them himself, just to see if Luc is still as pretty with even messier hair. Jens wonders if his hair is even more disheveled in the mornings, if he ever gets a chance of seeing it, of being the reason for it.

“Look, the queue is moving up,” Kes notices and they all move up a few meters until they have to stop again. This goes on for another half an hour, in which they talk and speculate which song they are going to open with and in which Jens tries really hard to get his thoughts about Lucas under control, because if he doesn't he is sure he will slip up again and say something that he can't take back.

They are finally at the entrance, Kes and Jayden are in front of them, already showing their ticket to one of the ticket inspectors. Lucas has just grabbed his hand to pull him along and when he shows his ticket to the inspector he hasn't let go of Jens yet. Both of them are kind of surprised when the inspector says to Lucas: “And your boyfriend's ticket?”

Lucas drops his hand immediately, as if burned and even flinches a good foot away from Jens. “He is not my boyfriend,” and his voice sounds like he is in panic and Jens tries really hard not to feel the hurt washing over him.

“Well, I still need your ticket,” the inspector says calmly and turns his gaze towards Jens. While handing the ticket over he chances a look at Lucas and it looks like he would rather do anything else than to meet Jens' gaze.

They walk inside in an awkward tension after the security guy cleared them. Jens hates it, things have never been that weird between them. He hates having to second guess his every move, he just wants to get back to the beginning, where everything felt natural with Lucas and he wasn't aware of his feelings. Because being oblivious hurt way less than this. Being aware means he can see the tension in Lucas shoulders and that weird sort of forced smile he now gives Kes and Jayden who  wait for them near the entrance. Being aware means that he he sees how glad Lucas seems to be that they are here to distract from the situation so Luc can avoid talking about it. Jayden immediately ropes him into a conversation about a pretty girl he saw. Jens knows that Lucas couldn't care less about his friend's weird attempt at flirting, at least under normal circumstances. Because right now he seems very eager to support Jayden instead of giving him one of his usual sarcastic and teasing comments.

If Jens was feeling less for him he probably would've been able to just brush it off with a joke and a bro like punch to his shoulder as soon as it happened. But he couldn't react fast enough because the first thing he felt was the sting of rejection when he heard Lucas's panicked voice. He tries his best now to be part of the conversation happening around him, to not focus on Lucas as much anymore, but instead to copy some of Kes' relaxed aura and stealing some of Jayden's excitement about the concert.

As soon as Lucas notices that Jens isn't going to approach the subject he seems more relaxed as well, seems to be able to meet Jens' gaze again and not duck his head like he is still embarrassed but seems genuinely happy that he is here with him. And when Luc's favorite band finally gets on stage after a mediocre supporting act he tugs at Jens' hand excitedly, lets out a happy mixture between a laugh and a squeal when they start with Chocolate and Jens thinks that if he wasn't aware of his feelings for him before, this moment would have done it. He is singing along loudly and off key and dancing and smiling so happy and carefree and Jens falls even more in love with him. When they play It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) Lucas turns to look at him and seems momentarily surprised when he finds Jens' eyes already on him. But then he just smiles in a way Jens has not seen directed at him before, turns his head back to the stage and continues singing along with that same smile on his face. Something like hope blossoms in Jens' chest and he wants to reach out and take Luc's hand in his. He doesn't. In the end he is just happy that even though the evening started with awkward tension between them, it still turned out to be one of the best nights he has ever had.

3.

It's been nearly a week since the concert which is also the last time they have seen each other. That glimmer of hope that Jens developed that evening died down pretty quickly when Lucas turned down every offer of hanging out with him this last week. He said it's stuff he has to do for Uni and then there was apparently some drama with Kes and it all sounds like made up excuses to avoid Jens.

Despite his slight annoyance and hurt that Lucas can't just talk to him about what ever is bothering him he tries asking him one last time because he really could use his help tonight. It's Lotte's birthday tomorrow and he promised her a cake. Not one you could easily buy from a store, but one he makes from scratch, with his own hand. In hindsight, he really should've resisted Lotte's puppy dog eyes because Jens knows only one thing about baking which is that it's not just a simple thing of following the recipe to get something resembling a cake. What he does know though, with 100% certainty is that Lucas loves to bake.

To Lucas Hey Luc I know you're probably busy but tomorrow is Lotte's birthday and I promised her a cake. Could you come over? I'm freaking out about this and I don't know shit about baking.  

To Jens' surprise he actually gets a reply only a few seconds later.

From Lucas Sure. You already have a cake in mind? We could make a funfetti. Lotte will love it and it's pretty easy. We could meet up at the supermarket at your corner for the ingredients?

To Lucas You are a lifesaver! See you in twenty?

From Lucas I'll be there.

+++

It was kind of nerve wrecking for Jens to spot Lucas skate up to him after a week of not seeing him, which has been the longest time without real contact since Lucas tapped him on the shoulder nearly two months ago. He feels like they had a moment at the concert but then Lucas has ignored him all week and now he doesn't know what to feel. It's a bit awkward at first because neither of them said anything except a quick “Hey” in greeting. Jens just kept looking at him, couldn't not when he hasn't seen him all week and Lucas has kind of just kept looking back. It made Jens' inside feel like jelly and he had to break away from his gaze before he could blurt out something that he couldn't take back.

It was easier once they were inside, both glad about a task to distract them from the tension, as mundane as it may be. Once they start actually shopping for the things they need, they fall back into their comfortable dynamic pretty quick, the tension giving way to easy familiarity. Lucas is teasing him about his inability to bake and Jens acts fake offended until Luc gives him an overly dramatic “You can be glad to have me”. Jens is barely able to hold back the answering, and way more serious sounding “I am”, doesn't want to risk slipping into awkward tension territory again. Lucas leads him through every aisle in the supermarket, making sure they don't forget anything and Jens thinks about a future where this is a regular occurrence: Lucas turning grocery shopping or other simple every day life things into something special by simply being there with him. He tries to stop these thoughts as soon as they enter his brain though, they will only hurt him more, because he knows it's not the same for Lucas anyway.

When they are at the cash register and have put everything on the conveyor belt Lucas suddenly goes wide eyes, turns to him, grabs his hand, squeezes once and says: “Shit, we forgot something for our cake. I'll go grab it real quick. Be back in a second.” With an apologetic smile to the cashier, he lets go of his hand and jogs back into the direction they came from. Kind of surprised from the suddenness of the action he stares after Lucas and then at his hand that still tingles in the places Lucas' fingers have brushed him. Shaking himself out of it he starts to pack away the things the cashier has already scanned and waits for Lucas' return.

The cashier notices him first though. “Oh, you're boyfriend's back,” she says, making Jens' head snap back up in surprise to find Lucas only a few meters away, halting in is fast steps, eyes going wide in shock before turning into something closed off Jens can't decipher. He definitely heard what the middle aged lady has said and when he is at Jens' side again he hears him repeat the words that have caused him the same hurt just a week ago: “He is not my boyfriend.” It's accompanied with an uncomfortable and forced fake laugh and Jens tries his best not to feel the disappointment because he has already expected this reaction, couldn't have expected something different because he really isn't his boyfriend. But the obvious discomfort in Lucas whole body language still hurts.

“Oh,” says the cashier with a confused expression. “I'm sorry, my bad. Looked liked you were.”

Jens should probably say something as well because this is getting awkward as hell and Lucas looks more and more uncomfortable. He decides not to comment on it though and just asks the cashier for the total after Lucas has already added the missing ingredient to the belt.

After paying and walking out of the store Lucas turns to him and says: “Well, that was awkward as fuck, right?” It's the first time he acknowledges one of those incidents and it's with another one of those forced fake laughs.

“Yeah, fucking weird,” Jens tries to mimic the laugh but it sounds off and sad even to himself. Luc punches his arm gently, an attempt at restoring the easiness between them and says with a fake chipper to his voice: “Come on, lets go home and bake that cake.”

Jens turns around and points to his bike that he came with and then looks pointedly at Luc's skateboard. “For old times sake?” Jens asks and hopes it works to further relieve the tension. This time Lucas' spreading grin is honest and he nods excitedly in agreement. So he gets on his bike and Luc on his skateboard, while holding on to Jens' shoulder and they ride off. It's something they've done all the time as kids, depending on who brought their bike. They would just ride around in the neighborhood or to the skate park, trying to go as fast as possible while one of them pulls the other along on the skateboard.

Once Jens reaches more speed he feels how Lucas clings more tightly onto his arm. He turns his head, following the sound of Luc's laughter and lets the happiness of this moment flow through him. When Lucas turns his head to look at Jens the laughter fades out but it's replaced with that damn smile again, the one from the concert and it makes Jens' heart skip a beat. But Jens doesn't have enough time to think about what this means if he wants to avoid an accident.

They arrive at Jens' home about five minutes later and head directly into the kitchen. Luckily, Lotte is at her friends house and his mum is still at work, so they have the house to themselves. The second they enter the kitchen Lucas is in full on The Great British Bake Off mode, tells Jens what to do, which appliances to get and to preheat the oven to 180°C. Jens can't help himself but to find it endearing. He continues to smile at Lucas in a way which is possibly way too soft until Luc turns around, raises his eyebrows expectantly and asks: “What is it?”

Jens' smile turns into mixture between bashful and amused. “Nothing,” he replies and before he can hold it back he adds: “You're cute when you're bossy.” With the way Lucas' cheek turn a pretty shade of pink and the way he can't fight the small smile that is tugging at his annoyed expression Jens can't even bring himself to regret it.

Although that changes when the next thing he sees is flour being thrown directly into his hair. “Oh no you didn't.”

The laugh Lucas lets out is happy and free but his tone is challenging when he replies with “Oh, I absolutely did.” He also raises his eyebrows as if to ask Jens what are you gonna do about it. Not backing down from a challenge and still holding eye contact with Lucas, he blindly reaches for the flour, gets a small handful and dumps it unceremoniously on Luc's hair as well.

Before Lucas can reach for the flour again Jens tries his best at stopping him from making even more of a mess of him. He grabs his wrists but Lucas is faster and Jens ends up with white powder all over his shirt and pants. From then on he doesn't really know what happens, they both reach for each other, grab at their arms and wrists and waists to try and get flour all over each other. The air is filled with their laughter and breathless exclamations of stop and the next thing Jens knows is that in an attempt to stop Lucas from throwing flour all down his back he acts before he thinks and steps right in front of Luc, basically trapping him against the counter.  

He is still a little breathless when he meets Lucas' gaze but for an entirely different reason now. They are closer than he anticipated, their noses nearly brushing and Jens can see the little specks of flour that have caught on Luc's eyelashes. He feels how his eyes drop down to Luc's lips, just for a millisecond and he should step back, knows that he should but he can't will his feet to move even just an inch. Lucas doesn't seem to be in rush to get out of  the situation either and it makes Jens feel brave. He raises his hand and lets his thumb swipe gently over Luc's eyebrow down to his nose, then his cheekbone and lastly his chin under the pretense to get rid of some flour on his face. He can hear Lucas' breath hitch and it makes his pulse beat even faster than it already does.

But then Lucas is pushing him away, not exactly firm but not exactly soft either. He clears his throat, shakes out his hair and says: “We should start baking. Good thing we bought two packs of flour, right?” He turns his back towards Jens but he can still hear the shakiness in his voice. Jens knows Lucas well enough to know that it probably would be a bad idea to push now but he can't just ignore it. He needs to know what is holding him back.  

“Luc? Why do you seem so uncomfortable when people assume we're together?” He sees Lucas' body freeze at the question and he hates that he can't see his expression as his back is still turned towards him.

After a couple of second Lucas seems to try it with denial. “I don't know what you mean.” Jens wants to get annoyed but showing it would probably make Lucas close up even more. But that doesn't mean that Jens is ready to give up. He goes to stand next to Lucas but he resists the urge to reach out and touch.

“Well, the first time with Milan I literally felt you tense up and for the first hour of the party you were really weird and tensed up every time I reached out for you. The second and the third time your voice was literally filled with panic at the idea of people thinking we're together. I don't mean to sound so judging but what is so bad about the thought of being with me that you can't just laugh it off? Is it because I'm a boy? I mean -”

Lucas suddenly turns around and his expression reads a mixture of anger and annoyance. “Oh come on, Jens. I'm gay. Of course it's not because you're a boy.”

Jens can't help himself to keep the annoyance from his own response: “Well, what is it then? If it's not that, then it's me, right?” He can see the anger draining away from Lucas' face and being replaced with a conflicted kind of expression. “Yes,” he finally answers quietly and Jens feels himself take a step back as if he had been physically punched in the gut. That's what it feels like at least. It's his turn to turn his back on Lucas, not ready for him to see how much this actually hurts him. But then he feels a hesitant hand on his arm and a soft voice saying: “But not in the way you think right now.”

It fills him with enough hope to turn around again and he finds Lucas stepping even closer than before. He takes a deep breath and looks intently and earnestly in Jens' eyes. “It's not you that made me uncomfortable or the thought about being your boyfriend. Believe me, that is as far away from the truth as possible. It was more the thought that other people, strangers even, could so clearly see what I was trying to hide since the moment I met you again. I was trying so hard not to fall for you but you make it so goddamn easy, Jens! And I hated the thought that I was so obvious about it. It made me uncomfortable that you would figure out how I feel about you, especially because I thought there would be no way that you could ever feel the same.”

Jens heart is beating out of his chest and he falls even more towards Lucas during his confession, as if pulled in by a magnet. He raises his hand and places it on Luc's neck, beginning to play with the curls that he can reach. “But I do,” is all that he is able to reply.

“I'm beginning to understand that.” Lucas says with a smile and Jens' eyes flutter shut as soon as he feels Luc's nose brush against his own. He tilts his head and holds his breath when he feels the first brush of their lips. Lucas makes this small little contented noise and Jens positively melts against his chest, parting his lips to invite him in. Where Lucas' fingers softly dance up Jens' arm and into his hair a trail of goosebumps is left behind, despite the relative warmth in the kitchen, heated up by the summer sun shining through the window. He feels Luc's other arm wrap around his waist to pull him even closer and Jens can't help the smile that's breaking out on his face, too giddy with the fact that he is actually kissing Lucas.

He decides that feeling Lucas' responding smile against his lips is nearly as overwhelming as actually kissing him. Lucas pulls back a little bit and Jens knows that his smile can be described as dopey but that's no reason for Lucas to break out laughing. “Why are you laughing?” Jens asks amused and with a happy smile that he can't seem to shake.

Lucas stops laughing enough to answer but when he meets Jens' eyes he starts again. The sound makes Jens' heart skip a beat and he thinks that he would give anything to see Luc as happy as he is right now. He is also weirdly proud of being the reason for it.

Instead of explaining what it is that is so funny to him right now, Lucas simply reaches up towards Jens' hair and gives it a good ruffle. A big puff of white powder rains down around Jens and suddenly he is reminded of the situation which got them into this in the first place. He looks down at himself, down at Lucas, looks at the entire mess they made of the kitchen, meets Luc's gaze and they double over laughing at the same time.

Once they calmed down enough Jens reaches for Lucas again and it already feels so right and familiar how he fits against him. He presses his lips against Luc's in what was planned as only a little peck but Lucas immediately tightens his hold on him and begins to softly moves his lips. Jens pours everything he hasn't yet said into the kiss and with the way Lucas keeps kissing him he thinks that he understands what Jens wants to say.

+1

“Ahem,” makes a voice behind them and Lucas starts to pull away from Jens' lips to see who was trying to get their attention. It's Robbe's birthday and they're currently on the balcony leading of the kitchen when they turn around and see Milan standing opposite of them with an amused expression.

“Please tell me that you sorted some shit out, because that's definitely not how friends act.”

Lucas and Jens turn towards each other and can't help the smile that is spreading across both of their faces. They turn back to Milan, whose expression has gone soft and knowing, and Lucas responds with: “Yeah, we got our shit together. I'm pretty sure that he is my boyfriend now.”

“Great, now there really is another couple to make me feel more single,” Milan says, but his face betrays his disappointed tone. He positively beams at them and when he turns around to leave again he makes a waving motion and says: “As you were.”

Jens turns to Lucas with a teasing smile and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Lucas rolls his eyes as if annoyed but he still leans in and against Jens' lips he whispers: “You're lucky I love you.”

It hasn't been that long but Jens can't imagine a time in their future where the words won't make his heart beat faster, can't imagine ever getting used to the feeling of experiencing Lucas' love. Jens leans in and before he closes he distance between their lips for good he whispers back: “I love you, too.”

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Heartbreak Girl

Pairing: Carrie Wilson x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: some swearing

A/N: This is my submission for Day 1 - Favorite Song for @jatpx5sos week! It’s also my first Carrie fic which I’m really excited about! I dont have just one favorite 5sos song so I chose Heartbreak Girl because it is an absolute bop. Let me know what you think and send me an ask if you want to be added to my taglist! 

Masterlist

___

You couldn’t exactly say you were surprised when you got the text from your best friend informing you that her boyfriend had just broken up with her. You’d seen the signs: their disagreement after the pep assembly, their interactions at the dance, and the way Nick was suddenly very interested in Julie. You knew it was only a matter of time before they broke it off again.

So no, you weren’t surprised when you got Carrie’s text a couple of days after the dance but you were supportive.

You were in your car minutes later, on your way to the grocery store to pick up Carrie’s favorite ice cream and some chocolate. Not long after you were pulling through the security gate before being pulled through the front door, ready to hold your best friend while you ate cookie dough ice cream straight from the container and marathoned all her favorite movies.

“Thank you for coming,” Carrie sniffled once you were safely tucked into the privacy of her bedroom.

“You know I’d do anything for you Car,” you replied honestly, pulling the ice cream out of the grocery bag and handing her one of the spoons you snagged from the kitchen earlier.

You settled down on the bed next to her, handing her the ice cream while taking the tv remote and beginning to flick through the various streaming services.

“What do you want to watch first?” You asked, looking away from the tv for a moment to look over at her.

You didn’t wait for an answer before turning on Mean Girls. Carrie and Nick had been on-again-off-again for long enough for this to become a routine for the two of you. You always started with Mean Girls, and then moved on to the rest of her comfort movies.

You laid back into the pillows after that, tossing a comforting arm around your friend’s shoulder. You stayed that way for the rest of the night, sharing the cookie dough ice cream and a variety of other snacks and occasionally talking.

It was bittersweet, you thought as Carrie laid curled up to your side as you lounged against her pillows, Clueless playing in the background and empty ice cream container long forgotten. On one hand, you were absolutely livid that Nick had broken Carrie’s heart once again but on the other, you couldn’t help the way your heart warmed when you looked down at the girl beside you and the intense desire to never let her go.

Alright so maybe you had a crush on your best friend, but even if it wouldn’t destroy your friendship you couldn’t tell her. She just got dumped and it would be beyond unfair to dump those feelings on her.

She’d fallen asleep sometime during the third movie and she looked so peaceful, no worries about stupid blond-haired boys in her dreams. You didn’t want to wake her up but you had a curfew to make and you knew she’d be pissed if you left without saying anything.

“Car, I have to go,” You whispered, shaking her lightly as the credits for Clueless rolled in the background.

“Please don’t go,” she pouted, wrapping an arm around you in an attempt to keep you there.

“My parents will kill me,” you said apologetically, pulling her arm away from you but holding onto her hand for a moment longer. “But I’ll be by your side all day at school and I can come over right after.”

Carrie nodded, looking up at you from her pillows as you stood from the bed, her hand still in yours.

“Thanks for being such a good friend,” she said sleepily, squeezing your hand before letting go completely.

You felt your heart drop along with her hand at the words but you shook off the disappointment. Your friendship with her was much more important than whatever feelings you might have.

___

As soon as you arrived at school the next day Carrie was glued to your side. As soon as you stepped onto the pavement of the parking lot she was swooping in, slipping her arm around yours.

“Good morning my bestest friend in the whole world,” she said cheerily, a smile plastered on her face.

You could tell it was all for show, however. You could see right through the exaggerated smile and haughty look, you knew her too well and for too long to fall for the persona she’d created for everyone else at school. She was still hurting and if you couldn’t fill the hole Nick had left in her heart then you’d at least do your best to help mend it.

“How’d you sleep?” You asked, using your free hand to sling your backpack over your shoulder.

Carrie shrugged, “Good I guess.”

You nodded silently as you walked arm-in-arm towards the doors. You noticed her hesitate when you reached the threshold of the building, afraid of what might lie inside the doors, but you didn’t say anything, merely turning to give her a reassuring smile before tilting your chin up and walking confidently through the doors. Carrie mimicked your show of strength, pushing her shoulders back and her chin up as she entered the school, fully embodying the appearance of the Queen Bee she’d made herself out to be.

Nothing seemed out of place as you walked through the halls to your lockers, crowds parted to let you through. From the outside, you and Carrie must’ve looked like the picture of poise and you could tell that was reassuring your friend. The façade wasn’t shattered until you were nearing your first class.

Carrie nearly froze when the two of you turned the corner to see Nick walking in the opposite direction. Rather than show weakness, she quickly shook it off, reaching out to lace her fingers through yours, letting your hands hang between you rather than keeping your elbows linked. You squeezed her hand gently as you steered her through the door of your English class and out of the Nick-infested hallways.

The rest of the day proceeded similarly, Carrie holding onto you either through linked arms or linked hands for support, especially if Nick was in the vicinity. The worst was music, the only class you didn’t sit with each other in since Carrie was a vocal student and you were a pianist. Fortunately, though, Mrs. Harrison decided today would be a good day to assign a duet project and you and Carrie were able to partner up. Before you knew it, the final bell was ringing and Carrie was practically dragging you to the parking lot, desperate to get as far away from the school as possible.

“So I was thinking we start with Legally Blonde, and then Bring It On, followed by Mamma Mia,” Carrie rambled off her movie list as you walked arm-in-arm to your cars.

You laughed slightly but nodded.  

“Sounds good.”

You separated briefly and only to drive your cars to her house. Carrie linked your arms once more when you arrived, marching assuredly up the driveway. There was no falsity in the confidence she embodied in her own home, though she now also wore her vulnerability on her sleeve. You felt lucky that she trusted you enough to let her guards down, you got to see a different side of her than pretty much everyone else. Maybe that’s why you fell for her.

The rest of the afternoon and evening went similarly to yesterday, with the two of you snuggled up to each other talking through the movies. You’d both seen them so many times that you could practically recite them from memory.

You took it a step further when you got to Mamma Mia, you having pulled Carrie off the bed when Dancing Queen started. You danced around her room wildly as you sang through the rest of the songs in the movie until you were laughing too hard to breathe and your limbs felt heavy and you collapsed once more onto the bed.

“I wish I had what they have,” Carrie said mournfully as you watched Sam and Donna and Sophie and Sky celebrate their relationships.

“You’ll find it someday,” you said softly, trying to reassure her while also desperately trying not to picture her with someone else. You weren’t sure your heart could take it at that moment.

Carrie scoffed, rolling over to face you. “I’ll never find someone as good for me as you.”

“W-what?”

Carrie peered at you, a mixture of sadness and hope and something else you couldn’t determine.

“I wish I could find someone who’s as good for me as you are,” she repeated, switching up the phrasing as if that’s what you were struggling with, not the fact that this felt like some kind of confession of forbidden love.

“I- well… why not me?” You stuttered out, a burst of bravery you didn’t know you had in you pushing the words out of your mouth. You figured you never would have said it if you hadn’t been so caught off guard by her words.

“Y/N don’t be stupid, you’re not into girls,” Carrie huffed, starting to roll away from you but your arm shot out to grab hers, halting her movements.

“Caroline Wilson I have been in love with you for like two fucking years!”

“You what?!” She practically screeched, jumping up until she was sitting on her knees on the mattress, pulling you up until you were doing the same. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you had Nick and I couldn’t ruin our friendship,” you shrugged, your words coming out calm despite the pounding of your heart and the butterflies flapping around your stomach.

“I would’ve ditched Nick in a heartbeat if I’d known I could have you,” Carrie confessed and when you looked up she was much closer than you’d remembered. Your lips were mere inches apart,  your noses nearly bumping each other. “Can I?” Carrie breathed out, voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

You’d barely nodded when her lips were on yours, softer than you could’ve ever imagined and tasting slightly of her favorite strawberry lip balm that you’d seen her apply earlier.

“So does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You asked quietly when you finally parted.

“Yes you idiot,” Carrie laughed, her smile the biggest and brightest you’d seen in days and suddenly you were being pulled into another kiss.

Beautiful mood board made by the lovely @bright-molina!!!

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever

[preciouspeterbparker]

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished! 

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves 

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending! 

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season. 

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay. 

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony. 

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside. 

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.”  Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of-  Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well. 

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?” 

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted. 

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?” 

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio. 

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.  

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was. 

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now. 

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been. 

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag. 

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect. 

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb. 

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine. 

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.” 

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car. 

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer. 

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously. 

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me. 

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it? 

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself. 

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy. 

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time. 

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force.  She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”) 

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs. 

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips. 

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone. 

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.” 

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part. 

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could.  “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim. 

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered. 

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs. 

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there. 

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.) 

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.”  He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises. 

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!” 

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven? 

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man. 

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.” 

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”  

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member.  “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.” 

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.” 

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan. 

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. 

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole. 

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head. 

*** 

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much. 

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that. 

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together. 

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together. 

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get. 

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow. 

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms. 

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years. 

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

[heartbreakgrill]

and to my prior request i have like those round coffee house glasses if there’s any consolation on what glasses i’m talking about lol & can i be on ur tag list? i love ur writing!!

description:

a/n: i am so sorry this took so long! despite quarantine, i’ve been unmotivated lmao. hope you like it!!

Relationships are all about connecting to another person, learning to love every single little thing about them. Because people were so unique, with deep personalities, this could take some time to do. Eventually, you may know everything there is to possibly know, which seems shocking. You still remember the plot line between Jim and Pam on The Office, in which Pam insists there must be something she doesn’t know about her husband. But, she does.

It’s difficult to think about for too long because you’ll find yourself becoming infatuated with the idea of learning as much as you can. So, in this relationship of just two months, you were letting things happen as fate allowed them to. You told Calum things here and there, and he reciprocated.

It would be when a morning when you showed up for breakfast that you learned he preferred tea over over coffee. There’d be a boring day at his house where you’d learn that he and Roy had a rotating chore list, shared in their text messages but sometimes written on the white board in the kitchen.

It was on a Thursday night when Calum learned you liked to be in bed on a work night at 9 pm. He’s wrestled with you, wanting to stay longer, but gave up when he realized how tired you truly were. Finally, there was that time at Ashtons, for a barbecue, when Calum learned you were allergic to strawberries after attempting to romantically feed you the chocolate covered piece of fruit.

But, there was still things neither of you knew about each other.

Friday nights were usually when you had the most fun. You’d spend all weekend together, and it kick it off with some late night Taco Bell runs or trips to Luke’s for a double-date, movie night with him and Sierra. Tonight would be spent in, watching movies, most likely going to get some type of fast food way-too late and, for the first time ever, staying the night at Calum’s house. It was going to be a learning curve for many reasons.

In preparation for your night in, you had already removed your makeup and contacts, coffee-house styled glasses framing your clean face. Your hair was in a bun, Calum’s green Empathy hoodie around your torso, and black leggings adorning your thighs. You drove to Calum’s house with the driver’s side window down, but now the sun was set, and you began to roll it up as a chilly gust of wind blew across the valley.

Soon enough, you were stepping out of your car, tugging the strap of your overnight bag over your shoulder, and shuffling towards Calum’s doorstep. You knocked three times before beginning to rock back and forth on your heels. The door pulled open and Roy grinned down at you.

You offered a polite smile as he stepped aside to let you in, “Hey, Roy. How are you?”

“I’m good, [Y/N], thanks. You?” He stood against the now-closed door, watching as you slipped out of your shoes.

Your voice dropped to a murmur with the lightest pink coloring your cheeks, “Nervous.”

Roy laughed, moving back towards the living room with, “Ah, you’ll be fine.”

As soon as he turned the corner, you heard the Duke’s nails tapping against the hallway floor. He came into the parlor, running as quickly as his little legs would allow. You crouched down, the strap of your bag falling down your shoulder. You shrugged it off further and picked Duke up in your arms. He licked your cheek, tail wagging against the crook of your elbow. You stood upright, moving further into the house.

“Hi, baby,” you nuzzled your nose against the soft fur of his neck, grinning at his comfort.

“Wow, Duke, so quick to abandon me just because [Y/N]’s here,” Calum rounded the same corner, dressed down in a Santa Cruz sweatshirt pulled over his blonde hair and pajama bottoms. He looked so cute, your heart almost melted.

You looked up from the dog, a shy smile adorning your features. “He just misses me.”

“Well, he’s not the only one,” Calum wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close to him as he could with Duke between the two of you. You pulled back slightly, bending down to set Duke on the floor. Calum brought you back against his chest, lips grazing your cheek in a sloppy kiss.

You giggled, writhing away from his lips. Calum’s mouth moved towards your nose, eyes shut, but he pushed so harshly because you were pulling away from him that he bashed his face against your glasses. They fell to the ground and you stumbled into Calums chest, laughing so hard your face burned bright red.

Calum was laughing, too, though it was being dialed down by his guilt and worry for the frames he didn’t even know existed. He managed to grab them from the floor, doing a once over to see if they were okay. They were, save a single Duke hair on the glass, so he handed them over.

You calmed down and slipped them over your ears. Calum’s eyes focused on them, admiring the way they fit your face. He, “didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“I do,” you pushed them up your nose, hand dropping to your side. “Do they look bad? I-“

He grabbed your hand as it moved back up at the frames, fingers intertwining with them, “No, they’re, like really cute. Like super adorable on you.”

You blushed again, chewing on your bottom lip, “Really?”

“I just wanna kiss your face, you’re so cute, Jesus,” Calum grabbed your waist with his free hand. You bumped into his chest, finding your footing with your forearm draped over his shoulders.

“Just dont knock them off again.”

-

Later that night, Calum drove the two of you to Taco Bell. It was chilly, but in spite of that, you cradled a slushee in your hand. Calum was holding the other, intertwined in your lap. He pulled off a road that didn’t lead back to his house, and didn’t answer your questions.

He parked the car on a hill overlooking the city. He pushed up the center consol to reveal the middle seat underneath. With a light tug, he had you under his arm, snuggled against his side. You leaned into him graciously, the scent from his hoodie matching that on his neck.

You closed your eyes for a moment, nearly falling asleep when you felt the slushee slipping from your fingers. A flash, also, woke you from your near passed-out state. Your eyes opened to a photo on Calum��s Snapchat of you and him, in the same position. He was grinning, eyes trained on you. They were flushed with pure adoration and you felt your cheeks redden, chest swell.

“Can I post this on Instagram?” He scrolled through his phone, which was still in your eyesight.

You were slightly taken back, thinking that you looked awful in your glasses, face red from the poor car lighting, and chin nearly doubled because you were so snuggled up. You shook your head of the self conscious thoughts, “Oh, sure, I guess.”

“Hey,” Calum set down his phone and turned so he could meet your eyes. “Youre beautiful, okay? I know it might not be something you agree with or feel and I cant force you to believe, but you are beautiful.”

“Cal, I,” you hesitated, “Ive just always been self conscious of my glasses. You can post the photo, Im just scared that the comments are going to reflect my thoughts.”

Calum opened his phone again, tapping on more buttons than needed. He turned off the comments. Added a caption that said, “My personal (and cuter) Harry Potter.”

You glanced back up at him, cupping his cheek with your free hand. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, holding him against you for longer than a moment. He jerked back only to press his lips against yours.

“I want to make you fall in love with yourself while I do.”

TAGLIST: @mantlereid