#when we were living in different houses on the same street as each other

[grimark]

i wanna hang out with my brother so fucking bad, but unfortunately we live in different states, and i’ve got this stupid job, and he’s got this stupid PhD thesis.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women. 

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls. 

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks. 

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind. 

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse. 

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment. 

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep. 

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

[enwoso]

LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL — alexia putellas x teen!reader

twelve days of christmas | day 8

based on this request

the streets of barcelona were alive with christmas fun and cheer as fairy lights hung across building fronts, festive music spilled from cafes and children chased each other with big toothy grins.

but for you, none of it mattered. at 18 on paper you were living the dream. signing for barca in the summer should have been the best thing that had ever happened as your career into football continued to grow.

but instead it felt like everything, slowly was falling apart.

you sat alone in your small apartment which just happened to be in the same building as a lot of your other teammates, such as keira, ona, alexia.

your eye-line catching the unpacked boxes in the corner of your room. moving from england had been hard enough leaving everything you knew behind but the pressure of playing for one of the best teams in the world had you at point where you were starting to crumble.

every game felt like another failure. every missed chance or misplaced pass was catapulted by the media who had turned on your pretty quickly. having you at cloud nine as the 'best rising star' to a 'disappointing, overrated player'

you had told anyone but you mind was starting to eat away at you, your depression which you had fought so hard to overcome was slowly coming back and beginning to suffocate you.

you were beginning to avoid your teammates, declining their invitations to team nights out as well as rarely speaking with coaching staff when she desperately needed to.

so now, with christmas peeking around the corner the festive cheer only fuelled your loneliness.

training today had been no different, you'd kept your head down doing the drills like a robot as you barely acknowledged anyone to the point where you hadn't noticed the watchful eye alexia had over you. watching each move you made a worried look in her eyes.

as you were packing your bag up slipping it over your shoulder as you were about to make the short journey back to your apartment, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"y/n" alexia called softly, "can we talk?"

you hesitated as you tried to carry on walking brushing the spaniard off but she was quick to hold you back, grabbing your wrist. "alexia, i'm fine. really" you said but it came out more as a beg for her to just let you go.

alexia stepped closer, her expression kind but firm as her brow furrowed the same worried look in her eyes from training had returned. "you've been quiet lately, i just want to make sure your okay. you not alone astro, we are here for you"

you froze, your brave front you'd been putting on threatening to crack at her soft words. you wanted to brush alexia off, carry on dealing with it as you were, tell her you were fine but the lump in your throat grew too large.

"i don't know if i can do this," you whispered, you voice trembling, "everyone hates me and i can't.. i can't be what they want me to be" you sobbed as alexia wrapped you into a tight, comforting hug.

alexia's eyes softened, pulling away from the hug as she placed a hand on your shoulder, "come with me" she whispered still loud enough for you hear as she gentle tugged on your arm for you to follow her.

reluctantly, you found yourself in alexia's car being driven through the streets of barcelona. stopping at a house which you didn't recognise, but it was nicely decorated with fairy lights and many christmas decorations.

"where are we?" you asked, you voice still raspy from crying earlier on.

"you'll see" alexia replied with a small smile as she lifted her hand to knock on the door, knocking a few times before the door opened.

"¡ah, alexia! hola y/n, hace tiempo que no te veo. entras, entra" alexia's mother greeted you both with a warm hug as you entered what you now realised was alexia's family home.

her younger sister alba hugging you as she came to see who was at the door teasing you about being too serious as the scent of freshly baked goods filled the air.

alexia leading you into the living room where a perfectly decorated christmas tree stood tall and proud as laughter echoed as alexia's cousins played games on the floor.

you stood slightly awkward, unsure of your place, "i don't belong here" you whispered quietly but alexia still caught what you said.

alexia turned to you, a frown appearing. "of course you do astro, you're part of this team and that makes you part of this family"

hearing alexia's kind words leave her mouth, a sense of comfort in them you had been searching for since you arrived in barcelona. you felt a weight on your chest lightly even if it was only slightly.

that evening you spent the time with alexia and her family, spending the time playing board games and sharing stories as everyone took a break alexia bumped your shoulder.

"you know, i know what's it like to struggle" alexia spoke softly and with such caution, "i felt the same pressure when i was young, like i wasn't enough. but astro you have to remind yourself why you started playing in the first place"

"you love the game, right?" alexia asked as you nodded, tears pooling in your eyes. "then it's okay to feel like this but you can't shut everyone out. we are here for you, the whole team is" you nodded as the floodgates opened. alexia wrapping you in a tight hug letting you cry.

-

over the next few weeks, things started to look up and you were finding you spark slowly. alexia's family had welcomed you and supported you with open arms. you'd

the club had organised for you to be able to go home for christmas meaning alexia was bringing your christmas gift early. alexia had spent the day helping you pack for your trip back to england, as you flew early tomorrow morning.

“astro, i have this for you-“ alexia smiled as she handed you a small gift box which was perfectly wrapped with a small silk bow on the top. you looked to alexia thanking her for it as you tore the neat wrapping off it.

inside was a simple silver beaded bracelet with the words, ‘hay luz al final del túnel’ engraved in to a small heart charm and which in english translated to — there's light at the end of the tunnel.

you looked up from the small bracelet, your throat feeling tight as you engulfed alexia in a hug, as you whispered your thanks to her — not just for the bracelet but for all the help she’s given you in the past few weeks.

alexia smiled, “your going to be okay, y/n. one step at a time”

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 9 of 12

Synopsis: lies, junk, and ebay side hustles

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—

The Twinkie’s engine hummed as they drove, the soft rumble steady in the quiet night. Y/N leaned against the window, watching as streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, leaving brief glints on her tired eyes. John B’s hands gripped the wheel, knuckles pale in the dim light as he guided them down familiar roads. 

This had been one of the longest - but one of the best nights of Y/N’s life. After the initial shock of finding out each other’s secret wore off, John B volunteered to drive Y/N home, much to Rafe’s dismay. 

They had both grown up on these roads, weaving through the same streets, crashing at each other’s houses, and finding trouble together. Now, things felt… different. As if, somehow, the ground they had always trusted beneath them was shifting. Their silence was comfortable but weighted, as if both of them were holding onto thoughts too heavy to put into words.

After a while, John B finally broke the silence, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “So… I guess we’re practically in-laws now.”

She let out a small laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Guess so. Funny, isn’t it?”

John B smirked but grew thoughtful, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I mean, I get how I ended up with Sarah, but… you and Rafe? When did that even happen?”

She felt a slight warmth creep up her face. “Uh… tonight, actually.” She paused, swallowing. “We kissed for the first time. I think the word for it is ‘unexpected.’”

He shot her a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding me. Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.” She gave a half-shrug, avoiding his gaze. “It's kind of… I don’t know, it just happened.”

John B let out a slow breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “You kissed Rafe Cameron tonight… wow.” He let that sink in, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the wheel. “Guess we’re both out here crossing some major lines.”

Y/N gave a slight nod, feeling the truth of that for herself, too. Sarah Cameron and Rafe Cameron—these were people they’d known their entire lives, kids who had grown up with a silver spoon and never seemed to notice the Pogues except to look down on them. And yet, here they were, tangled in the lives of the Kooks they’d once considered untouchable.

“How did that even happen?” she asked quietly, her gaze still on the passing trees.

John B rubbed a hand over his jaw, considering. “It’s… complicated. It was one of those things that just kinda… snuck up on me. I was working on Ward’s boat one day. He needed help with something in the engine room, and when I came up, Sarah was there. She was sitting by the dock, crying. She’d just broken up with Topper.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, though she wasn’t entirely surprised. “Yeah, he’s… something, isn’t he?”

John B chuckled dryly. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. Anyway, she looked… different. Vulnerable, I guess. Not like her usual ‘Kook princess’ self. We just started talking, and I don’t know… the lines got blurry. I wanted to hate her, but it’s hard to hate someone when you’re actually seeing them. You know what I mean?”

She did. She understood that completely.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, tracing her finger along the edge of the window. “Rafe… I never thought I’d be able to trust someone like him. I mean, it’s Rafe Cameron. But tonight, something just… clicked. And I realized I wanted to be around him. It’s strange, but being with him, even just for a night… it made me forget about a lot of things.”

“Like JJ?” John B’s voice was quiet, understanding. Y/N felt her heart constrict at the name, the weight of years of friendship and unspoken feelings pressing down on her all at once.

“Yeah,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I’ve been in love with him for so long. And it’s like... it’s been this constant thing in the back of my mind, like this background noise that I got used to. But tonight, with Rafe… it was like the noise stopped. For once, I wasn’t thinking about JJ. I was just... there, in the moment.”

John B let out a slow breath, nodding. “It’s kind of terrifying, isn’t it? Letting someone in like that. I know how much you cared about JJ. Honestly… I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you guys. I’ve known you my whole life. You and JJ are the only people who… get me. And now I’m dating Sarah, and you’re with Rafe… it’s almost like we’re betraying something.”

Y/N looked over at him, their eyes meeting for a long moment. “Yeah, it feels like that. It’s not just about us—it’s about all of us. Our whole group, the way we’ve always been there for each other. I keep thinking about what JJ would say if he knew.”

John B’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’d be pissed, that’s for sure. Hurt, too. But… maybe he’d understand eventually.”

“I don’t know, John B. He’s stubborn. And this would feel like a double blow. We’re his oldest friends, and… he’d feel like we’ve crossed a line. Especially me, with Rafe of all people.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I can’t imagine losing JJ because of this.”

The silence fell again, heavy with memories and old loyalties. Finally, John B glanced over at her, his voice a little softer, a little more vulnerable. “Then let’s keep it between us. We don’t have to tell anyone. I mean… if things get serious or whatever, we’ll figure it out then. But for now… let’s just keep this between us. I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine.”

Y/N smiled, the weight lifting just slightly. “Deal.”

“Good,” he replied, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He offered her a small grin. “Guess we’ll be each other’s partners in crime, sneaking around with the Kooks. Never thought we’d end up here.”

She laughed softly, nodding. “Life has a weird way of throwing curveballs.”

As the Twinkie carried them back down the familiar roads, Y/N felt a sense of calm settle over her. They had their pact now, an unspoken agreement to protect each other and their secrets. 

—

The salty breeze tugged at Y/N’s hair as she made her way down the familiar path to The Chateau. It had been a week since she last saw the Pogues, and her absence hadn’t been unnoticed. She’d spent the days since the chaos at Tannyhill trying to process everything. The kiss with Rafe felt like a whirlwind, and now she had to face her friends, especially JJ, who she knew would be the hardest. Her stomach was in knots as she approached the hangout, trying to steady her nerves.

John B had said he’d smooth things over, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. Not when it came to JJ.

When she entered, the usual hum of conversation was absent. The Pogues were gathered around the table, but it felt… off. Pope and Kie were sitting together, but their smiles seemed forced as they looked up at her. The only one who wasn’t pretending was JJ, standing by the window, his back to the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t even look her way as she stepped inside.

Y/N hesitated in the doorway, her gaze flicking between Kie, Pope, and John B, who was leaning casually against the counter. “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Kie’s face lit up, though there was an obvious undercurrent of confusion. “Look who’s back! You good? Where’ve you been?”

Y/N winced at the warmth in Kie’s voice—so different from JJ’s cold silence. “Yeah, just needed some space,” she replied, not wanting to dive into details.

Pope nodded but didn’t press further. “Everyone’s been asking about you,” he said. “Glad to see you finally made it out.”

John B gave a small grin, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Yeah, we were starting to think you’d forgotten how to find us.”

Y/N gave him a small, forced laugh, but her eyes were drawn back to JJ, who still hadn’t turned around. The tension was palpable, and it felt like the air itself was thickening with each passing second.

She tried to take a step forward, but JJ’s voice cut through the room like a knife. “So, nice of you to join us,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “Thought maybe you’d decided we weren’t worth your time anymore.”

Y/N flinched. She hadn’t expected the bite in his words, not after everything they’d been through. She knew he was hurt, but hearing it from him like this felt like a slap.

JJ finally turned to face her, his face hard. “You know, I was worried sick after that voicemail,” he continued, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t answer my texts, didn’t pick up the phone. What the hell, Y/N? You left me hanging.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected this level of anger, but hearing him say that struck a chord. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “You could’ve picked up the phone the first time I called,” she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had actually been there when I needed you.”

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and raw. JJ’s eyes widened, surprised by her retort, but there was no denying the hurt that flashed across his face. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?” he said, voice low and simmering. “You think it’s that simple?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. “No, I don’t think it’s simple,” she snapped back, her frustration mounting. “But I tried reaching out, JJ. You’ve been so caught up with everything else, and I—” She broke off, running a hand through her hair. “I needed space. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

JJ shook his head, clearly struggling to contain his frustration. “You can’t just disappear like that without telling anyone what’s going on. I thought something happened to you. I was out of my mind, Y/N.”

She softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone, but her anger still simmered. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “I just needed time to figure things out.”

JJ exhaled sharply, clearly still hurt but now holding back, as if deciding whether to continue his outburst. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Just… next time, don’t leave me in the dark. I don’t do well with that.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. That’s the last thing I want.”

There was a long, heavy silence before JJ, with a frustrated sigh, finally gave a small, resigned shrug. “Alright, fine. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

John B, sensing the moment was still tense, stepped in with a lighthearted tone, trying to ease the mood. “Alright, enough of the drama. We’ve got a Pogue reunion here, right?” He glanced at Y/N with a small, reassuring smile. “Let’s just have a good night, yeah?”

Y/N gave him a tight smile, but her gaze lingered on JJ for a moment longer. There was still a distance between them, an unspoken tension that neither of them could ignore. But at least, for now, they were talking again. She only hoped the cracks in their friendship wouldn’t be too hard to fix.

—

A few days had passed since the tense moment with JJ, and things seemed to go back to normal, or at least, as normal as things could get in the Outer Banks. Y/N still spent most of her free time with Rafe, sneaking in moments together whenever they could. It felt like a secret they were both carefully tending, and despite the weight of keeping it under wraps, there was an unspoken comfort in it. She had no intention of telling the group just yet, but she wasn’t pretending things were the same with JJ either. There was distance now, but it was the kind of space that made it easier to breathe. And while Y/N still felt a little uncertain about what it meant for her friendship with the Pogues, she couldn’t help but feel lighter every time she was around them.

People noticed when she disappeared. Pope raised an eyebrow at her a couple of times, Kiara playfully asked if she was meeting some "mysterious boy," and JJ, though distant, was clearly still keeping an eye on her. But no one questioned it further. No one needed to know.

That afternoon, Y/N found herself back at the Chateau, where the gang had regrouped after a few days of avoiding serious conversations. The group was loud, as usual—Kiara pulling out an old map, Pope half-heartedly objecting to some of their more ridiculous ideas, and JJ getting a little too enthusiastic about a new "adventure" they could take. This time, it was JJ’s turn to suggest something chaotic.

“I’ve got it,” JJ said dramatically, eyes lighting up. “We go to the junkyard.”

Y/N shot him a raised eyebrow. “The junkyard? Really?”

“It’s perfect,” JJ continued, ignoring the questioning looks. “We could find treasure, make some plans for the summer, do something that actually makes us feel alive for once. Plus, there’s always weird stuff there—old cars, random bits of metal, who knows what we might find?”

Kiara perked up at the mention of treasure. “Could be a gold mine,” she added with a grin. “Or at least we can see if there’s any cool, rusty junk we can turn into art.”

Pope, who had been staring into the distance, suddenly broke into a mock frown. “The junkyard? Really? You guys are seriously trying to drag me into a place filled with piles of trash?”

JJ grinned, always ready to egg Pope on. “Come on, Pope. You can pretend to be the sophisticated one all you want, but deep down you know you want to get your hands dirty with the rest of us.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the couch. It was a sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed—her group, teasing and laughing with no tension. It felt like old times, before everything got complicated. Before she started feeling like she was on the outside of the group, watching as JJ and Kiara danced around each other and trying to figure out what her feelings for Rafe meant.

“I’m in,” Y/N said, sitting up and giving them a small grin. “Let’s go find some treasure.”

Pope, still grumbling, threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting stuck in any piles of scrap metal. I’m too smart for that.”

“Just remember that when I find something amazing, you’ll be the first to carry it for me,” JJ teased, already standing up and grabbing his jacket.

At that moment, John B, who had been lounging on the couch with a cup in hand, suddenly perked up. “Did someone say junkyard?” he asked, eyes wide with mock excitement. “That sounds like the kind of adventure I can get behind.”

Y/N shot him a grin. “You planning on driving us there, Captain?”

“Obviously.” John B tossed the cup aside, jumping to his feet. “The van’s ready. And if I’m driving, we’re making this a proper expedition. No half-assed treasure hunts on my watch.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled at the enthusiasm. “Fine, fine. Let’s go then.”

The gang piled into the old, beat-up twinkie, heading off toward the junkyard. As they approached the site, the familiar scent of rust and oil filled the air. The place looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, with broken-down cars, shattered glass, and twisted metal strewn across the dirt lot. The kind of place where nothing was useful, but everything had the potential for some kind of adventure.

“Alright,” JJ said, standing dramatically in front of the group, “let’s make this a scavenger hunt. First person to find the weirdest thing gets to claim the prize.”

“Prize?” Kiara asked, skeptically. “What, are we going to sell the trash we find?”

“Exactly,” JJ grinned. “Who says junk can’t be worth something?”

Pope rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back a smirk. “This is ridiculous. But I’m game.”

Y/N watched John B, who was already surveying the junkyard with a mischievous grin. He had that familiar glint in his eyes—the same spark he always got when he was looking for trouble, and he wasn’t about to let JJ have all the fun. “Fine,” John B said, “but I’m getting the prize first.”

“You wish,” JJ shot back, already moving toward a stack of old tires. “I’m gonna find something epic.”

As they began to spread out, Y/N couldn’t help but feel lighter. She wasn’t thinking about JJ’s stupid pity kiss, or the constant tension that hung between them. She wasn’t worried about Rafe’s feelings either—he was the secret she didn’t have to explain, and she was content with that. For once, she was just part of the group again, her old self. The Pogue she used to be.

JJ sprinted toward an old car, shouting out, “I call dibs on this beauty!” and began rifling through the trunk, already making an absurd amount of noise. Kiara, Pope, and Y/N followed suit, though their finds were much more practical. Y/N pulled out a few rusted tools, giggling when Pope made a face at the mess she was digging through.

“You sure this is the best we’ve got?” Pope asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm but a hint of amusement.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said with a playful grin. “What’s your definition of treasure, Pope? Something shiny?”

“Exactly,” he said, half-smiling. “I’m all for finding treasure, but not garbage.”

“We’ll see about that,” Kiara called out from behind a pile of tires, already holding up a set of old neon lights she thought could be used for their next bonfire. “This could make a perfect addition to our party setup!”

Y/N watched as Kiara took charge of their little scavenger hunt, leading them through the junkyard with a sense of excitement that made the whole thing feel a little more like a real adventure. Pope was actually getting into it now, his competitive spirit taking over as he tried to beat JJ to whatever “treasure” he could find. JJ, of course, was already in his own world, imagining the junkyard as some sort of personal playground, where every broken thing was just a stepping stone to a bigger, better idea.

John B wandered off toward the far side of the yard, his eyes scanning the piles of junk for anything that might catch his eye. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how natural it felt, watching the group fall into their old rhythm.

As they explored, laughing and tossing things aside, Y/N realized that it wasn’t just the junkyard that felt like home—it was this. It was being with these people. No matter how chaotic things got, no matter how much she didn’t know what she was doing with her own life, these were the people who always had her back

The sun blazes overhead as Y/N steps into the junkyard, eyes wide with excitement.

“This place is awesome!” Y/N exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes. “It’s like a treasure hunt, but better because it’s all free!”

Kiara chuckles beside her. “I mean, it’s not the best place for treasures, but yeah, you could find something cool.” She swats a crow feather out of her face. 

John B, already leading the way, turns back with a grin. “Follow me, I know where the good stuff is.”

Y/N follows, practically bouncing with curiosity. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in there.”

Pope, trailing behind, lets out a dramatic sigh. “Good stuff? In a junkyard? This is like a museum... for garbage.”

Y/N laughs, waving at a pile of old scrap metal. “Hey, you’d be surprised. There’s probably something worth a lot here, Pope. You never know!”

They reach the shed, and John B immediately tries to open the door. He pulls, pushes, and gives it a shoulder check, but it’s locked.

“Uh, guys,” John B mutters, frowning. “It’s locked.”

“Duh,” Pope replies, unimpressed. “It’s a shed. Who’s surprised?”

John B shrugs. “Well, this shed’s too interesting to leave alone. JJ, grab the crowbar. We’re getting in.”

JJ jumps into action, grinning. “This is gonna be fun.”

Pope looks around nervously. “This is a terrible idea. We’re gonna get caught.”

“Relax,” John B says, already walking back to make room for JJ. “It's fine. We’ll just—”

JJ pulls out the crowbar and gives it a couple of solid swings against the shed’s door. The sound of metal against metal echoes across the junkyard. On the third swing, the door creaks open with a groan, revealing the dark interior.

“Here we go!” JJ says, his grin widening. He steps into the shed like he just found buried treasure.

Y/N steps forward, eyes lighting up. “Okay, okay. Let’s see what’s in here.”

But as the group floods into the dimly lit shed, their excitement quickly fades. The place is stacked with nothing but junk—old furniture, broken tools, and boxes of random stuff, nothing of any real value. The walls are lined with old tires, discarded appliances, and garbage bags.

“What the hell?” Y/N says, her voice deflating. “This is... this is just junk.”

“I told you,” Pope mutters under his breath, crossing his arms. “Who in their right mind would call this ‘good stuff’?”

John B shrugs, undeterred. “Hey, sometimes the best finds are hidden under a pile of garbage.”

JJ pulls a dusty old television out of a box and wipes it off. “Look, I found this! I mean, it’s not working, but who wouldn’t want a retro TV in their house, right?”

Pope raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, because that’s totally what I want—vintage junk.”

And then, the door slams shut.

Y/N spins around, eyes wide. “Uh, guys? The door just closed.”

Kiara, who’s looking around the room with increasing unease, says, “No way. We’re locked in? Are you kidding me?”

John B goes to grab the handle, but it’s stuck. “Great. Of course, the door’s stuck now.”

JJ, still casually rummaging through junk, stops and looks up. “Wait, seriously? We’re locked in?”

“Yeah, JJ!” Y/N says, her voice rising with a mix of panic and amusement. “We’re locked in. Look at this place. There’s no way out.”

Pope starts pacing, his calm demeanor cracking. “This is not happening. We’re literally locked in a shed in a junkyard.”

Kiara looks around, her eyes darting from one junk pile to the next. “Well, at least it’s not a stranger’s shed. I guess we could just chill... but, uh... still... someone has to come looking for us, right?”

Y/N starts laughing, despite the situation. “I mean, yeah. Worst case, we just start a new life in the junkyard. It's practically our new home now.”

JJ throws his hands up. “Yeah! We’ll live off moldy pizza boxes and tire swings. Total dream life!”

John B glares at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Guys, seriously, quit joking. We need to get out of here.”

“Right,” Pope mutters, pulling at the door again. “Maybe if we just pull it...”

The group tries everything—pulling, kicking, even trying to knock the door down, but nothing works. After several attempts, the group begins to lose their energy, and the silence hangs heavy for a moment.

“Okay, so we’re stuck in here,” John B says, flopping down onto an old recliner, his voice nonchalant. “This is officially our new hangout spot, I guess.”

Kiara glares at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, really,” John B grins, raising an eyebrow. “You guys remember that one time we got stuck in that abandoned house during that storm? Remember how much fun we had?”

Y/N snorts. “Yeah, except that house was less junk-y and more... ghost house.”

“I mean, this place is just as fun, right?” JJ says, flopping down next to her, pulling a rusted license plate out of a box. “We got old stuff. We got... character.” He waves it around like it's some kind of trophy.

“Sure,” Pope grumbles, “if by ‘character’ you mean ‘how many ways can you die while inside a shed full of junk.’”

John B suddenly jumps up. “Wait, I’ve got it. We break out the windows!”

Kiara looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “John B, that’s not a good idea—”

But John B is already going for it. “Just trust me!”

After a few attempts, they finally manage to break the window, with John B leading the charge. The group spills out into the sunlight, everyone covered in dirt and laughing like it’s no big deal.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Y/N says, brushing off her hands with a grin. “I guess we can cross ‘getting locked in a shed’ off our bucket list.”

Kiara punches her lightly on the arm. “Yeah, not on my list, but sure, let's count it.”

Pope straightens up, shaking his head. “That was a mess. But at least it was... interesting.”

John B slings his arm around Y/N's shoulders, laughing. “Another Tuesday with the Pogues. Couldn’t get any better, right?”

—

A/N: Pogues back to business as usual. Don’t worry—Rafe’ll be back next time. Please drop a thought if anything stuck out to you, I love hearing what you all think!

–

Next time: secrets don’t stay hidden for long

—

Taglist: @hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86

[loves0phelia]

The Maybank Twins

Summery: which dream would you pick?

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A/N: Sorry I feel like this fic is all over the place and barely understandable but I had the idea of JJ having a twin since I learned JJ's real name was Jackson so I hope you like it anyway xx

JJ and Jackson were intensely different despite being twins. But it wasn't always like that.

Both boys were born kooks, but as children, the status did not matter. Being a kook or a pogue didn't have a meaning until you grew up. Kids from both sides of the island enjoyed playing with each other. That's why when they met you they didn't hesitate to befriend you even if you were a pogue.

On a beautiful Saturday, you took your shiny pink bike and began pedalling down the roads around town to the point where you crossed the line into Kook territory. You knew your dad wouldn't like you travelling so far from home but you loved to admire the large houses with picket fences and pools. You always dreamed of visiting one. 

As you were looking with dreamy eyes at everything but the path in front of you, the front wheel of your bike caught the side of a sidewalk.  The handlebars jerked to one side, and you tumbled forward. Hitting the ground with a soft thud, your knees scraped against the rough concrete.    

You sat up slowly, tears welling in your eyes as you examined your knees. Both were scraped and red, with tiny spots of blood forming on the surface. Your palms stung from catching yourself.

The commotion probably alerted some people because next thing you knew two boys around the same age as you came running out of the house you were wrecked in front of.   

They both darted out of the yard, weaving through the iron gate and across the street to where you sat on the concrete.  

“Hey, are you okay?” one of them asked, crouching down beside you.  

You sniffled, wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I fell off my bike.”  

“Come in, we can give you a bandaid,”  the second boy said without hesitation, looking at your scraped knees.

The first boy reached for your bike to place it to safety while the second helped you up on your feet and helped you inside the large mansion-looking house.

Inside, it felt even bigger. The tall ceiling and window looked fantastic. You almost forgot your pain as you looked over the various decorations.

“There sit” You sat down slowly on the gray cushions of the couch and tried to not get any blood on it.

“I’m JJ by the way, that was a badass fall, It looked so cool” He smiled and laughed, for a moment you were almost proud.

“Don't say that JJ she could have been really hurt and it's not cool” The boy crouched in front of you with a cloth soaked in lukewarm water and pressed it to your knee.

“You're just boring, Jackson, you don't think anything is cool!” JJ argued with his brother and Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes, I do!” They continued bickering next to you until a beautiful blond lady came into the room.

“Boys, what is going on?” She asked with her hands on her hips looking over her twins.

The childish argument stopped immediately as if both of them were soothed by their mother's presence. “We saw this girl fall off her bike, we wanted to help her” JJ muttered.

“Did you guys ask her, her name?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. But both of them shook their heads. “I thought I raised you two to be gentlemen, what's your name honey?” 

“y/n” 

“That's such a pretty name, I hope these boys weren't too much of a pain for you” She whispered but JJ and Jackson definitely heard and you simply giggled.

This was the moment you began to be a constant person in their lives. Both of them loved you until they grew up and this love changed into something more.

When you all all turned from children to teenagers the words kooks and pogues began to have a meaning. You were now divided into two groups, rich and poor. But the boys didn't agree with this mindset. Especially JJ. After their mom died he became reckless. He Jumped on any opportunity to go on an adventure or to feel just an ounce of adrenaline. He was sick of the bubble wrap and wanted to live freely like the pogues.

Jackson on the other end even though he disliked the hate between each side of the island, he refused to drop everything like his brother to live a careless life. He wanted to go to college, he wanted to have a bright future, with a beautiful house, a wife and maybe even kids. He wanted the picket fence dream.

And you? You didn't know which dream to pick.

The dream with JJ where everything is joyful and exciting. 

Or the dream with Jackson where everything is soothing and comforting.

JJ

The Bluetooth speaker blasted an upbeat song, filling the small living room with pounding bass and lyrics. JJ stood in the center of the room, wearing his signature goofy grin and wildly waving an imaginary microphone in the air.  

“AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” he screamed, his voice cracking in all the wrong places.  

You rolled over on the couch in laughter, clutching your stomach. “JJ, you’re ruining Whitney Houston! That’s a crime!”  You both laughed as the song ended and Don't Stop Me Now by Queen started playing

“You think that’s bad? Just wait for this!” JJ leaped onto the couch with a dramatic flair, now holding an empty glass beer bottle as a microphone. “DON’T STOP ME NOW! I’M HAVIN SUCH A GOOD TIME”  

“ I’M HAVIN’ A BALL!” You screamed following the lyrics, jumping up to join him. You grabbed a remote control off the coffee table and sang into it like it was your own microphone, matching JJ’s energy note for note.  

“You’re awful!” he yelled over the music, grinning ear to ear.  

“Excuse me?” You shot back, pretending to be offended. “I’m carrying this!”  

“Please, you’re the backup singer at best!”  

“Asshole!” You gasped and pushed him making him stumble and fall on his butt on the soft cushion but he quickly recovered, standing back up and grabbing you by the hand to dance on the dirty rug. Without a second thought, he turned bringing you with him and dipping you as dramatically as he could making you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

He pressed a big messy kiss on your cheek and laughed again at the disgusted face you made before wiping away the saliva with his palm. 

The next song started—a slow, cheesy love ballad. JJ struck a mock-serious pose, reaching out a hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”  

You rolled your eyes but played along, taking his hand. “You may, good sir.”  

You swayed dramatically around the room, both purposefully stepping on each other’s feet and exaggerating every movement. JJ spun you out and back in, and you both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of laughter as the song ended.  

“That was awful,” You said, catching your breath.  

“The worst,” JJ agreed, his head tilted back against the cushions. Then he glanced at you, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Wanna go again?”  

“Duh.”  

It was always like that between you and JJ. Loud, obnoxious, happy. You both never caught a break in each other's presence. But you loved it, you loved him.

JACKSON

Your fist knocks softly on the door of the twin's house. The sound feels like it echoes in the home. After a couple of seconds of nothing, no voice, no footsteps you try again. Louder this time.

“JJ I swear if you forgot your keys again- oh hey” the door swung open revealing the twin you were looking for.

“Hey Jacks.” you smile noticing his messy blond hair meaning he was probably taking a nap.

“Uhm JJ isn't here” he scratched the back of his head and leaned on the doorframe.

“Actually I came to see you… we haven't hung out much lately” you said looking up at him.

“Yeah sorry, I've been studying a lot and I saw you and JJ hang out often. I didn't want to bother you know”

“You never bother, I'm your friend too” he nodded and lifted himself off the frame to let you into the house you knew so well. It was honestly a second home to you.

His room was dimly lit, and much cleaner than JJ’s. You and him lay side by side on the bed, your legs tangled in the blankets.  

He stared up at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting gently on your hand. You lay on your side, head propped in your palm as you looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips.  

“Do you ever think about where we would be if you and JJ never saved me when I fell off my bike?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.  

Jackson turned his head to look at you, his light blue eyes warm and thoughtful. “All the time,” he admitted, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You're like the only person I can talk to about.. anything. JJ, he's my twin but it's easier with you. Moments like this are everything I look forward to.”  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You mean laying in bed talking about everything and anything?”  

He grinned. “Yeah I don't get to do it with anyone else”  

Your chest warmed at his words, and you reached out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “I don't get to do it with anyone else either”   

He raised a hand, his fingers brushing your cheek before leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. It was soft, lingering, and full of unspoken affection. You closed your eyes at the touch, letting yourself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment.  

It wasn't unusual for you both to show affection like that. Jackson's love language was physical touch and JJ's was quality time.

“I like this,” you murmured after a while, voice barely audible.  

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice equally quiet.  

“Yeah. Just… us. quiet, calm.”  

Jackson smiled, his hand finding yours under the blankets and giving it a light squeeze. “Me too.”  

And it was always like this with Jackson and you loved it, you loved him but you couldn't bring yourself to choose who you loved most.

[sansaorgana]

I’ve never understood why we shoot off fireworks in the USA for the 4th, I just feel like it could trigger some of our veterans and it makes me feel awful! Could you write something like this with Buck?

hello! 💖 in my country we only shoot them on new year's eve but since I own two cats, I hate them 😡 one of my cats is so terrified each time that he literally has spasms 😥 the older he gets, the more worried I am each new year's eve tbh 😐 anyway, thank you for your request! 🎆 I was actually thinking of something like this with Buck!

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

It was the first Independence Day after the war and you were excited that you would celebrate it with your husband for the first time in two years. Especially now, after the victory, it felt more special than ever.

You decided to throw a barbecue for your befriended neighbours and you had been preparing the house and the garden for the whole week – putting up decorations with Buck’s help and cleaning everything. In the last two days you had also been busy with cooking meals and preparing salads while Buck had been supplying your fridge with everything needed for the barbecue – all sorts of meat, vegetables and sodas.

The only thing you hadn’t bought were the fireworks. You wanted to save some money, especially after hearing that different neighbours down the street were preparing a real show anyway. Surprisingly, Buck had agreed to that pretty quickly although you had expected him to try to convince you to get your own fireworks. Not because he had ever been a big fan of them but he never liked it when you were using the “saving money” argument. Whenever you would use it in different situations – like deciding whether to buy a dress or not – he would say “if it makes you happy, we can afford that”. And he knew very well that this barbecue party was making you happy.

However, you didn’t ask about it because it didn’t seem to be significant enough and you completely forgot about it anyway, too busy with all the preparations.

The barbecue started in the afternoon and the weather was beautiful on that day – clear, blue skies above you, giving you a perfect view of the fireworks here and there in the distance. You were handing the bottles of beer and coke to the guests while Buck was in charge of the barbecue when one of the neighbours asked a question that made you freeze.

“Damn, it’s like back there again, is it not?” He chuckled at Buck.

His name was Frank and he had been to Europe as well but not as a pilot. He was obviously referring to the fireworks in the background as he tried to turn it into a joke but his wife Helen hissed at him.

You suddenly realised that the sound of fireworks was not the same to everyone and you looked at your husband, worried. He might have seemed to be pretty alright after the horrors he had endured but you knew him better than everyone else and you knew. You knew about his nightmares and panic attacks. They were rare but they still were happening, sometimes triggered by the things you had never thought of before as threatening. Like with the fireworks.

“I don’t pay attention to them,” Buck gave Frank a kind smile. “My brain just shuts the sound off at this point,” he explained and he seemed to be genuine in his answer, which made you sigh in relief.

You went back to handing out the sodas and glanced at the watch on your hand. It was half an hour until the fireworks show promised by the neighbours living down the street.

When everyone had a bottle of their chosen beverage already, you joined your husband’s side to help him with the meat and vegetables. Rubbing his arm softly and laughing at the jokes being told by the others, you felt happy and satisfied with your life. Finally, after such a long time, it was back to normal, you thought. Well, nearly.

Everyone was sitting by the table in your garden and talking when you realised you had forgotten to bring mustard and ketchup.

“I’ll get it,” Buck smiled at you and stood up.

“Grab me a can of coke from the fridge, too, darling,” you told him and he nodded before disappearing inside the house.

A short moment later, the fireworks show started. Your neighbours living down the street had to spend a real fortune on it because the fireworks were many and very, very loud. You gasped and watched in awe as others stood up and cheered.

You, Helen and Frank were the only ones left sitting by the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted that Frank’s face changed. He was no longer smiling and his skin lost some of its colour. Helen was squeezing his shaky hands and whispering something to him.

A very loud firework made you flinch while others screamed out of joy and Frank jumped on his seat. You stood up rapidly, realising that Buck hadn’t come back from the house yet.

“Helen, listen,” you leaned in to talk to her despite the noise. “You can go inside with Frank, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed out with gratitude in her eyes before urging him to stand up and follow her inside.

You, however, weren’t waiting for them because you were rushing to the house yourself. You froze at the sight of your husband sitting by the kitchen table and hiding his face in his shaky hands. In fact, his whole body trembled and there was a broken bottle of mustard in the middle of the floor. He had to drop it when the fireworks show started.

Your heart broke at the sight. Your Buck was the strongest and the bravest man you knew. You would always go to him when you needed comfort or help because he was so capable of making everything – everything – better. He was good at fixing things in the physical sense but he was also always comforting you with his kindness and calm nature. He would never panic about anything and you had always admired him for that.

In moments like this, you felt helpless because you couldn’t take his pain away. And if you could, you would. He had already suffered so much that from now on, you’d rather suffer for him. But you were also angry – angry at the war for taking place and breaking him so much.

“Darling…” You started slowly and crouched down in front of him, carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge your presence, though. “Darling…” You repeated and put your hands on his trembling thighs.

He flinched and you shushed him while tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re home,” you tried to soothe him. “You’re with me now, you’re safe,” you assured but it was not working.

You took a deep breath in and moved up now, to stand above him. You put your hands on Buck’s ears, trying to shield him away from the noise coming from the outside. And then, gently, you pulled his face closer to you and pressed it to your tummy. You leaned in to kiss the top of his head and whisper sweet nothings that were supposed to calm him down and after a while it seemed to be working. You could feel his muscles relaxing and eventually he stopped hiding his face in his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist instead, clinging to you like a little boy.

When the fireworks show stopped and it was quiet again, you moved your hands away from Buck’s ears and began to rub his back soothingly instead.

“It’s alright now, baby, you’re home with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” you promised in a whisper, sniffing back your own tears.

Buck looked up at you with teary eyes and you cupped his face to wipe his tears off of his cheeks with your thumbs. You let your fingers trace his scars and your lower lip trembled. Not that you minded those scars – not at all – but they were yet another reminder of what horrors he had been through. And he was just a man – as weak and scared as everyone else; only forced to be brave.

You understood now why he was scared of having a son with you one day. He was scared of another war coming sooner or later and he was scared of his own child going through what he had gone through.

You feared that, too. And you didn’t even fully know what had happened in Europe. Only the men who had been there knew. Women – especially those who had stayed back home – they would never understand.

“Are you back with me now, my love?” You asked, gently. Buck nodded after a while of hesitation.

“Sorry ‘bout the mustard,” he mumbled out and you chuckled as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” you assured him.

But you were grateful that Buck’s panic attacks were like that. Perhaps it was wrong to be grateful for such things but you had heard enough stories of triggered men who would do much worse things while having panic attacks.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“Don’t,” you interrupted him as you crouched down again and held his hands now to squeeze them tight. “Don’t, Gale, please, don’t ever apologise for that,” you pleaded and he looked down.

“I didn’t expect them to be so loud and so… Close. I… I suddenly wasn’t in our kitchen anymore but back in the air, up in the fort and the Germans were shooting at us and I was trying to focus on flying but deep down I was just… I was just praying to get back home to you and all I could see was your face when they tell you I’m dead and…” He started and you pursed your lips to stop your own tears from falling.

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s over now, yes? You’re back home with me, safe and sound,” you reminded him and leaned in to place a kiss upon one of his hands.

You heard footsteps behind you. It was Helen peeking inside shyly. You turned around to shake your head at her and she gave you an understanding look before walking out without a word.

“Let’s clean up now, yes?” You let go of Buck’s hands and fixed your hair before standing up clumsily.

You occupied yourself with cleaning the mess from the broken mustard bottle and Buck washed his face with cold water in the kitchen sink. You handed him some of the paper towels you were using so he could dry his face.

“You’ve missed the fireworks show because of me,” he pointed out.

“God damn those fireworks shows, Buck!” You exclaimed. “God damn them. I don’t want to see any ever again. I’m sorry that I didn't think that it would… That it would scare you like that,” you apologised.

“Well, it takes time to come to terms with the fact that your husband is a coward now,” Buck sighed and so did you, while throwing the used paper towels into the trash bin aggressively.

“My husband is not a coward and has never been. However, that self-pity attitude is new to me,” you told him and he turned his head around to look at you. “My husband is the bravest man I know,” you added. “He is my hero. And I don’t allow you to talk about him this way, you hear me? I have defended him from all the women in town telling me that men in the captive camps were no real heroes and I will defend him from you, too, when you’re so mean to him, Buck, I mean it.”

“Stop, or I’ll cry again,” he shook his head and sniffled.

There was a hint of a smile on his face and it made you grin as well before you approached him and wrapped your arms around him to hug him tight.

“I love my wife, too. The most in the whole wide world,” he assured you and hugged you back while pressing his lips to the top of your head but you could still understand his words. “I wasn’t brave, really, I wasn’t. I just did everything it took to come back to you.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[slytherheign]

SNOW ON THE BEACH | tasm!peter parker

PREQUEL TO A WALK TO REMEMBER.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: you start to see your best friend in a different way at the same time the snow starts to fall.

WARNINGS: doubts and unspoken feelings. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. as written above, this is a prequel to another fic of mine but this can also be read as a standalone. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC but if you see something that pertains to a specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS SOTB (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was late November and the neighborhood was gearing up for the upcoming winter season. Normally, you would stay home for moments like this, staring at the window as you waited for the snow to fall. However, this time was different because your best friend had other plans. He all but pulled you up from your couch where you were peacefully taking a nap to lead you out of your house. Apparently, for him, this kind of weather was perfect for walking along the beach.

You and Peter have known each other ever since you were children. The moment your family moved into his town, he was the first kid who wanted to be your friend. There was no question why you instantly became best friends. Since then, you have shared everything from secrets to dreams. 

Always inseparable, rarely without the other.

Always been “just best friends.”

But a shift has shown itself—unspoken feelings that simmered beneath the surface that neither of you fully understood or dared to acknowledge. For you, it started in your third year of high school, and since then have lingered every time you were with him. As much as you hoped it would go away at some point, it unfortunately didn’t. And it certainly wouldn’t go away right now as he walked with you along the coast, your hand in his, intertwined.

The beach was secluded under the cloak of night, where the only light came from the stars scattered across the sky like pocketfuls of glitter. The ocean whispered against the shore, the waves reflecting the moonlight in a soft, silver glow. The air was cool, almost cold, but not unwelcoming, like the gentle feeling of his hand. The atmosphere is filled with indescribable magic, a surreal blend of familiarity and something entirely new. You recognized a spot you used to visit as kids—a large driftwood log, half-buried in the sand—and nudged Peter to look at it.

“Remember when we used to sit at that spot when we were kids?” you asked.

“How can I possibly forget? That’s where you first told me you wanted to travel the world,” he chuckled. “Remember that spot?” he pointed at the spot to the side of the large driftwood log.

“That’s where we built that crazy sandcastle,” you giggled, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. “I swear, we thought we could actually live in it forever.”

Peter laughed, his breath was visible in the night air. “And then the tide came in and washed it away. We were probably devastated for like, what—ten minutes?”

“More like ten seconds,” you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. “We just ran back into the water, forgetting all about it.”

He smiled at the memory, squeezing your hand gently. The temperature dropped as you strolled further down the beach, sending a shiver down your spine. Peter noticed and let go of your hand so he could shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders. The warmth of his gesture seeped through, but you didn’t miss how he decided not to hold your hand again.

“Thanks, Pete,” you said softly. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the kind gesture but you already missed holding his hand. For a second, you were about to reach for his hand but he pulled it away from you to stuff it in his jeans.

In the quiet of the moment, you felt a sudden ache in your chest. You turned to look at him but he was staring straight ahead. He seemed deep in thought and you didn’t bother interrupting him. Besides, thoughts of your own began to find their way into your head at the same time. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you lately. Every time you see him, you feel this… weird flutter in your chest. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t understand it. You have been best friends for so long. He was always there, always the one you could count on, always the one who made you laugh when you were feeling down. But now… now it felt different. You couldn’t help but notice the little things when he was around. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. And when he wasn’t around, you’d find yourself missing him more than you ever did before. But missing your best friend was normal, right?

But then, why did it hurt so much every time you saw him with someone else? Why did it feel like your heart was being squeezed when he talked to other girls? You should be happy for him, you should want him to be happy. But instead, you feel… jealous? Was it jealousy? You didn’t even know… but you hated it. You hated that you felt this way because it didn’t make any sense.

Life was emotionally abusive but he was the one guiding light that gave you inspiration to wake up every day. You’ve been through everything together, from heartbreaks to triumphs, and you always leaned on each other for support—because that’s what best friends did.

Just best friends. It was all you've ever been.

So, why couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would be like if… if you were more than that? What would it feel like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to look into his eyes that were reminiscent of flying saucers from another planet for hours, to know the feeling of his lips on yours? But then, what if you were wrong? What if this was just some passing thing, and you would ruin everything by saying something? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you lose him? You couldn’t stand that. You couldn’t stand losing him. But if you didn’t say anything, how would you ever know? How would you ever figure out what these feelings were? Maybe… you were just overthinking everything. Maybe this was just a phase that would pass if you just ignored it long enough… but what if it wasn’t? What if this was something real, something worth risking everything for?

You wished you could figure out what your heart was trying to tell you. Because right now, it felt like it was screaming, and you were too scared to listen.

You just wished you knew what to do. 

Then, unexpectedly, delicate flakes began to fall from the darkened sky, dancing down like tiny stars coming to rest on the earth. At first, it felt unreal—a gentle winter blanket spreading across the beach, contrasting the warm feeling that was in your chest. Other than the falling snow, the sky above was clear, except for a faint, otherworldly glow on the horizon, it reminded you of the aurora borealis, though neither of you have ever seen it in person.

“It’s snowing,” Peter whispered as he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. The snow gathered in his tousled hair, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his astonishment. You both paused, turning your faces to the sky, letting the soft flakes melt on both of your skin. 

“Snow on the beach,” he mused.

“I know. It’s weird… but beautiful,” you replied.

Peter looked at you without you noticing, catching a fleeting moment when the moonlight seemed to illuminate your face from within, making your features soft and almost ethereal. He smiled.

“It is beautiful…” he agreed. 

You turned your face just to see him staring at you.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, everything around the two of you faded into a serene silence. You saw that the same wonder you had was reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, all your doubts were cast aside. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never noticed before, a silent question that mirrored your own feelings. 

Peter reached out, enveloping your hands with his. The touch was electric, sending a shockwave of awareness through both of you. You paused, holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak, as if knowing that this moment might shatter everything between the two of you.

The snow fell heavier and your hearts synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. You shared a knowing smile, the kind that held a thousand unspoken words as you both realized what was happening.

Peter broke the silence first, his voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, the words hanging in the air like the snowflakes drifting down. He hesitated, searching for the right way to express the feelings in his heart. “If we could… be more?”

You felt your heart race at his words, a warmth that was stronger than any chill of the winter night spread through your body. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, nervous yet elated. 

It was as if, for the first time, you were seeing each other in a new light, one that revealed what has always been there but was hidden beneath layers of friendship. It was beautiful, but also terrifying, like seeing snow on the beach—something that you felt shouldn't exist, yet here it was, impossibly real.

“Maybe we could try?” Peter suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d like that,” you replied, smiling.

In an instant, everything changed. The world blurred, the periphery fading away until all that existed was the space between you. The stars, the moon, the endless ocean—they all receded into the background, insignificant compared to the look you shared. At that moment, everything clicked into place. The memories of your secret smiles and late-night conversations flooded back, but now they carried a different weight. 

“So…” he started. “Be mine?”

Peter raised a hand to brush a snowflake from your hair and you leaned into his touch with your heart pounding.

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation.

As the snowflakes continued to drift down, you leaned into each other, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time—gentle, hesitant, but full of the promise of what could be. The world around you seemed to hold its breath as if the very stars were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

When you finally pulled away, the world resumed its quiet motion, but something had definitely shifted. The snow, the beach, the stars—all of it felt different, it was like the universe itself knew and played a part in what just happened and what would happen.

Neither of you spoke, afraid that words might break the spell or jinx everything. 

And in truth, you didn’t need to say anything more. The way you looked at each other, the way your forehead rested against his—said it all.

You continued to walk along the shore hand in hand, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet, leaving a trail that would soon be covered by fresh snow. The future was uncertain, but for now, you were contented in the knowledge that you’d found something beautiful—like snow on the beach.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[liliewrites]

So reader is childhood frnds with both arle & clervie(we can't forget this girlie), but like reader has this talent that lets her blend into the background with no one knowing like she's even there. This trio literally stick tgt everyday like if someone sees 1 of them they know the other 2 aint that far behind. So reader & arle had this obvious crush on each other(not that they r gonna say anything but its so obvious to eveyone who saw them cus they r kids). Reader then got sent to Fontaine from Snezhnaya to snoop around for info (this is b4 KingMaking). So while reader is snooping for info, KingMaking happens as canon & arle tried to find reader after she became a harbinger cus like she lost clervie alrdy & she just wants to know reader is still safe ya know. But like obviously arle couldn't find cus reader's talent of 'blending' works damm well. So arle got transferred to Fontaine for the gnosis, happened to find reader by 100% coincidence while on a walk, grabbed reader, carried her all the way to the hearth, had a VERY long conversation about what happened & decided to finally confessed to reader about the crush that has never fade despite being separated for so long.

💫anon

HALLLLOOOOOOOO 💫 ANON:DD i hope i do ur ask justice n feed all of u the good ol' slowburn n mutual pining w arlecchino:DD eat up!! also, i changed smth a little bit for the sake of the plot if u don't mind, but overall, it shouldn't make too much of a difference! tyy for requestingggg!! i feel like this isn't my best portrayal of arlecchino though huhuawkajdwas

-warning/s ; maybe ooc, clervie's death mentioned.

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men please dni utc!)

peruere didn't know what to do.

peruere didn't know that the last word's clervie to you would be "byebye, y/n! make sure to come back home safely, okay??"

peruere stared at her hands with an absent stare, her mind in full delirium as she just realized the atrocities she'd just commit. the children of the house of the hearth has fallen- and she was the only one left.. along with you. knowing her mother, she knew what she had done to clervie would eventually happen to you.

she wasn't going to lose you too.

thankfully, you were currently absent from the scene- as "mother" had assigned you on a mission somewhere within teyvat but she knew as soon as you came back you'd be suffering the same fate as the others if she didn't act soon enough.

her mind finally met with clarity, she picked up her sword- the very same sword that bore her sins against your friends and siblings.

the next day, you heard what had happened back at.. home. the house of the hearth was no more.

peruere had been arrested, mother crucabena had been killed by peruere. you didn't believe it at first, but when you also heard that the rest of the children had died a year prior to crucabena's death- you knew peruere had lost her wits at the last minute.

you were disoriented for a moment, unsure of what to do now that you had nowhere to come back home to, but you mostly worried about peruere. you thought of what they would do to her, you didn't want to lose her too. she's all you had left.

with a heavy heart, you never went back home. you had no choice but to use your ability to blend in within the street kids of sumeru, just so no one would recognize you especially the fatui agents that roamed the streets from time to time. you spent a few years within the streets, taking advantage of your expertise in the field of gathering information with your stealth and earned yourself a living off of it.

however, you just couldn't shake peruere out of your mind. constantly, she was on your mind like a nail lodged in your head. especially when the full moon had gleamed upon you it's blessed and gentle caress and had brought you comfort, did peruere witness it's beauty? or was she as lonely and lost as the moon in the vast darkness of it's own solitude akin to her own isolation within the confinements of her prison cell? it worried you greatly.

after a few years, you'd caught news of the newly appointed harbinger named arlecchino whom had inherited your "mother's" title, the knave.

there were different rumors that surrounded the harbinger, but they all pointed to her committing a massacre, calling her the "poor, mad and cursed" knave.

your chest thumped, you had a strong feeling you knew it was peruere yet you couldn't confirm it yet. you haven't seen any photos of the new knave, except for the fact that she's been stationed in fontaine within the newly rebuilt house of the hearth.

confirmed or not, you knew it was her-- it had to be. so you had immediately began to prepare for your trip back to fontaine with haste.

unbeknownst to you, said harbinger had been looking for you first thing when she had gotten out of prison. she knew you would have fled fontaine entirely as she had intended, but was also aware of your proficiency when it comes to hiding your identity. she knew it would be hard to find you, but she still carried on. she couldn't let the kids handle this, lest she could risk the freedom you had now from the life of being a fatui (which she hoped you had). so she could only hope, if there really was a deity out there that would hear her, that you were safe and alive and well.

you were, in fact, safe and alive and well. now you were taking your first few steps into the city of fontaine. when, honestly, as a child you've never been able to experience the city despite spending your childhood within it's region. "mother" had never let you leave the orphanage, not until you were "of age" to join the official ranks of the fatui.

you looked around, mesmerized by the people and their lavish clothing. the weather was much different from sumeru as well. despite not growing up within the city, however, you caught whiffs and scents of your favorite cakes from your childhood. truly, you may or may not be fontainian by blood, but at least you were by heart.

you spent the first few days, getting yourself to blend in within fontaine's society. you were still afraid and wary of the fatui, especially with how strict "mother" was to you which formed your impressions of the organization. eventually, after getting a place to stay, getting accustomed to the city and dressing yourself in the same clothes as them- you could now officially, once again, call yourself a fontainian.

however, the reason why you came here in the first place was still on the very top of your head, you had to see peruere no matter what. you kept your eyes open for any signs of her monotone colored hair. you kept your ears alert if you'd catch any drift of her name, peruere or arlecchino, to no avail.

you let out a sigh, feeling unsuccessful. you weren't about to give up, but decided that you should rest and call it a day. it was getting late, so you had gotten up from the bench you were sitting on to go and head back to the inn you were staying at.

.. then suddenly, you had been robbed of your sight then consciousness.

your eyes fluttered open, but your eyesight had been blurry. the first thing you've realized is that your feet was off the ground and you were being lifted up on the air. your fight response kicked in, and you had tried to wriggle your way out of your captor's grasp.

"let go of me-"

immediate silence. you knew those eyes as she looked down at you. just from her look alone, you knew she had sent you a warning to stay silent.

but that wasn't the reason why you were still, it was because of those those x shaped pupils of hers that bore into your soul that you've come to love.

".. p-peruere? is that.. you?"

she froze for awhile, before continuing on walking.

"later. we can't talk here, keep your face hidden."

you nodded, returning back to your tucked position as she carried you in her arms. you could feel your heart thumping, beating- you've never felt this way since you've last seen her.

once you've arrived at your destination, you noticed that she's brought you within a building. a private study room, it seems. she carefully placed you down on the couch, before sitting on the chair in front of you. you've finally had a full view of her, and both of you had eyes full of shock at the sight of each other.

you were the first one to shatter the silence, immediately tearing up and throwing yourself in her arms. for a while, she awkwardly placed her hand on your waist. you couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle. after all these years, she still acted as if hugging was an alien thing.

you leaned back again, sniffing. she's definitely went through a lot. the apathetic look on her face was much more hardened, more sharper. she looked intimidating, especially with her upright stance and poise of a full fledged military officer. which in her position's case, she was.

she reached out to grab your hand. feeling you, touching you, as if to make sure that you really really were alive and in front of her.

see, the knave was not one to show emotion since she was a child, and you knew that.. but the way she acted now, it bothered you.

".. what happened? where have you been?"

she asked, pulling away from you to regain her composure. her voice was much more deeper now compared to a few years ago. you couldn't help but blush at the sound of it. the way she talked, it lacked warmth, she sounded stiff and stern.

"me? why ask me- what about you?! you're a harbinger now, pers!"

you exclaimed, causing her heart to still for a moment as you called her by that affectionate nickname she hasn't heard in a while. "i'll explain to you, sit."

her way of speaking was much more commanding, more authoritative, but it didn't scare you. rather, you were astonished at how much more polished she's been after all these years.

you sat down next to her, listening to her relay to you the past events that have happened while you two have been apart. she spoke in such a way that she sounded like she was reporting a mission or an assignment, making you feel amused even more as you listened to her speak.

your peruere has really grown up a lot, hasn't she? it made you think that you were wrong, maybe she's not peruere anymore. it made sense, she was called arlecchino now. it made you feel like you've truly lost her forever.

"i see. i'm happy to hear that the tsaritsa has pardoned you, our tsaritsa is truly blessed.." you muttered, looking away as you sighed. arlecchino noticed the melancholic twinkle in your eyes, causing worry to stir within her. "is there something wrong?" she asked, yearning for you to look at her again.

she wouldn't say it out loud, but she missed you, dearly.

you were silent for a few seconds, before letting go of her hand. the look in your eyes made her feel dread-- dread at the thought that you now hate her for killing clervie, for killing "mother", for destroying the place you had once called your "home".

arlecchino was used to being called a monster, a murderer, a freak by many and she could take it.. but from you? oh, it tore her apart. she felt like she'd truly lost you for good.

you looked at her, wanting to ask her if she was still your peruere.

she reached out again, wanting to make it clear to you that it had to be done to protect you.

"do you loath-" "-my peruere?"

both of you had talked at the same time but arlecchino heard your words loud and clear. she just had to hear it again for confirmation. "..pardon?" she asked, blinking at you in confusion.

slightly embarrassed at the thought of being a grown woman whom still referred to her affectionately as "your" peruere after all these years, you really didn't want to ask again, but you needed assurance.

so in a smaller, more hushed voice, you asked again.

"are.. you still my peruere?"

".. you don't hate me?" she asked, a bit dumbfounded that out of all the things you could say, that was the first thing that came our your mouth. it should've been obvious that she's yours, she always has been and she always will be.

"why would i hate you, per- arlecchino? you're my best friend..!" you exclaimed, a bit dumbfounded for her to think that you hated her. you weren't blind to "mother's" ways of raising children. it would've happened either way.

you started to tear up a little, calling her arlecchino felt bitter to the tongue. you've waited all these years, looked for her high and low, and now that you've seen her again.. it felt like you were facing a different person.

all the fears that had built up within arlecchino through all these years had drifted away. you didn't hate her. you didn't resent her for killing clervie. for ruining everything. she was glad that you were still the same woman she loved.

she pulled you in for a hug, albeit a bit awkward, she pulled you in as close as she could. "of course. of course i'm still your peruere. just.. refrain from calling me that in public." she told you, wiping away your tears with her hand.

her hand- her hand, oh archons! "pers, what happened?!"

you exclaimed in horror, grabbing her hand and carefully examining it. you knew of her curse, and it seems that it has taken over her. "worry not. it's been years since the curse had fully manifested, i am fine now" she reassured you, then, holding your hand in hers.

".. did you mean it when you called me yours?" she immediately asked after, looking down at your intertwined fingers. her thumb swiping against yours in a soothing manner.

"why of course, pers, you're my best friend!" you told her, your cheeks becoming flushed as she held your hand in a rather.. more affectionate manner.

"no, no. what if i wanted you to call me yours in a different way?"

she then looked up at you again. her eyes were filled with conviction, with a subtle hint of desperation and enamor. "i'm a woman who's dull to the concept of loss after having witnessed many losses and failures.. but you, i've lost you once. i cannot bear to lose you again. please stay, mon amour." her voice wavered for a moment as she held on to your hand tightly. "please, y/n." her face did not show it, but with the longing stare in her eyes, the way she held at your hand. she was devastated at the thought of losing you again.

your heart broke at the sight of her. you knew, she was still your peruere. within your presence, arlecchino was gone. within your presence, she is peruere. the same one whom would eat your favorite cakes with cakes with you, the same one who would cling on to your shirt as she followed you around, the same one who'd let you use her as your blade in a fight even if she knew you were capable of fending off on your own. arlecchino wasn't asking you to stay while professing their love to you, it was peruere.

you smiled at her, leaning in to lean your forehead against hers.

"of course, pers. i'm here to stay. i've found you again, i'm never going away. i'm glad to be home." you whispered, feeling that familiar warmth from her presence that you've come to know and love. "home?" she asked, a bit curious as to what you meant. "did you mean the orphanage? the current house of the hearth is much different from what we've grown up to, mon amour." she told you, your heart fluttering at her calling you that way. "no, silly. i mean you, pers. no shelter nor place can compare to the warmth and safety that you provide." you muttered and arlecchino let out a soft sigh.

"is that so? then.. i'm glad to be your home." she closed her eyes, basking in the moment of having you near her after so many years of separation. "then i am proud to be the one you call home. for as long as these flames course through my veins, i will always keep you warm and safe." she mumbled as you closed your eyes as well, relishing in the long lost comfort you've longed for.

"still.. i'm happy that for once, my flames have brought a different feeling than fear.." "yeah.. we still have to work on your hugging though.. seriously, pers. you're bad at hugging!" "what- can you blame me? i was never one for affection!"

[dat1angel]

DP x DC

So we've all seen aus where Danny gets adopted by the Batfam because, let's be honest, he's a textbook case of a Bruce Wayne adoptee. But what if we took that, just slightly to the left? Instead of Batman adopting Danny, the Batkids do. Now, the reason why Danny is in Gotham can be whatever you want(I'm partial to reveal gone wrong or an accident happens so he leaves as to not become Dan) but one by one and completely coincidentally(or so they think, maybe Gotham helps push them together) Danny befriends each of the Batkids.

He meets Tim at a coffee shop(maybe he works there) and they bond over the insane amount of caffeine they like in their coffee.

He meets Daimian at some vegan place that Sam would just love if she were there and tho Damian refuses to say it there's something he finds endearing about this street kid who seems to have no clue who Damian is but smiles at him regardless and engages in some surprisingly pleasant conversation about places that serve vegan food or vegan options.

He and Duke have a class together in school and he meets Barbara while studying at the library. Or maybe Duke invites Danny to join a study group and that's how he meets Babs and maybe Cass and Steph too.

Maybe he meets Dick as Nightwing and they bond over their love of puns.

Jason can be met as either a civilian or as Red Hood, but the second they get within a certain range of each other, they get this feeling tugging them towards each other. Some 'I don't know why but I need to go this way' type feels. Jason calls it instincts, Danny can tell this feeling is coming directly from his core. They literally run into each other and immediately get this overwhelming feeling of 'same same like me'.

He ends up growing close with them all individually so when they eventually realize that 'hey, this new friend we've all been talking about is the same dude', well of course they have to keep him. So they all work together to sneak him into the manor(read: kidnap) and get him set up in one of the many unused rooms. And the fact the Bruce was off on a business trip when they did it made it wonders easier, they would definitively have got caught if he was around.

So now Danny is a stow away in this mansion that all his new friends apparently live in and he just kinda goes along with it cuz 'hey, they're nice and he gets somewhere to sleep rent free and the food is to die(again) for'. And yeah, they're the kids of the best detective in the world, they're gonna be good at hiding their tracks(they have to be or they would never get away with anything) but Alfred knows everything that goes on in the manor. He takes one look at this child and just accepts it. He allows the children to believe they are deceiving him but helps them out subtly by accidentally making extra food at meal times.

And if sometimes they want to hang out with Danny in the house they do his clothes and hair like whichever kid he resembles the most and so long as he doesn't talk nobody can tell the difference.

And maybe when Bruce comes back from his trip he figures it out immediately but he doesn't say anything because like hell he's gonna turn away a child in need. Instead he just silently fills out the adoption papers so he's ready when the kids eventually decide to reveal Danny's presence to him.

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part two

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. wc: 3.5k tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear! i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔 i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Les (Part 2)- Christopher & Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: THE BOYS ARE FIGHTINGGGGG!! read part 1 if you don’t understand!!

Warnings: Angst-ish, cursing, use of Y/N, talks of sexual interactions, THREESOMEEEEE, degradation, P in V, crying, unprotected sex (don’t even think about it), praising, Dom!chris!, Dom!Matt, Sub!reader, multiple orgasms

A/N: LOVE TRIANGLE WHO?! This is my first OFFICAL threesome please be nice LOL

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

For the past few days, Chris hasn't texted me, big fucking surprise, I mean I could understand why, you see the girl you've been ‘in love’ with but ‘not ready’ for a relationship with her, and seeing her with your brother could hurt you but I mean he put this upon himself.

Matt on the other hand has been an absolute angel, actually talking to me, and joking around with me, and we've been fully transparent with each other about things, it's been way different than Chris, I still love Chris but Matt is so good for me. I eventually told Matt how long Chris and I were sleeping together, and his jaw clenched and his fist tightened. I mean at first Matt and I were just playing around with Chris to see if he'd actually care that I was flirting with his brother. Chris did care, but never showed it according to Matt he ‘knows when Chris is upset’, and he was. But after the first 3 days, I don't think I was ‘playing’ anymore.

Today, Matt and I agreed to go on a ‘trial’ date. Basically to see if Chris would act on his feelings towards me or if he remain on his strike to stay silent.

I figured since I was testing Chris I'd wear an outfit I knew he'd always loved on me: a tight white tube top with bows around the top, with a flowy short skirt and a cardigan over it, and obviously my Converse.

I got into my car and drove to the triplet's house, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as I drove through the quiet streets. When I arrived, I parked the car and made my way to the front door, I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, my heart racing with anticipation. After a few moments, the door opened, and to my surprise, Chris was standing there, smiling warmly at me.

“Oh hey Y/N, I wasn't expecting to see you here” he smiled pulling me into a hug “Are you here to take pictures with Nick? You guys got the same vibe going on” he chuckled softly allowing me in the house, and guiding me up the staircase.

“Oh um no” I smile softly, but before I have time to tell him what I am actually here for, matt runs in the living room.

“Y/N, don't you look beautiful” he smiles taking my hand and spinning me around jokingly while Chris has a puzzled look on his face. “You ready” his hand remains intertwined with his.

“Ready for what? Where are you guys going?” Chris says plopping on the couch.

“I'm taking Y/N on a picnic” Matt replies smiling down at me.

Chris’ jaw tightens and his eyes darken with anger. “So are you guys like a thing now or what?” he says in annoyance.

“No” i quickly say.

“Chris if you actually knew how to treat a girl, you would know that they actually like being taken out on a date and not just fucked and then escorted out,” Matt says gripping my hand tighter.

“Y/N what the fuck? You told him?” Chris stands up clenching his fist.

“Was that a problem?” I spit.

“Considering we SWORE to keep it a secret, yes it fucking is,” he says coming closer to Matt and me “and now you're fucking around with my brother? Low blow Y/N” he continues

“It honestly shouldn't matter to you who I'm fucking around with and who I'm not” I cross my arms over my chest “I poured my entire heart out to you about how I felt and you completely ignored it because you enjoy fucking around with girls who are probably carrying around diseases that you can't wash off with Ajax,” I say rolling my eyes

“I told you my feelings Y/N, I'm not sure why you're being all dramatic,” he says shrugging his shoulders.

“Chris I'm not being dramatic, you quite actually told me, ‘I'm not sure what to tell you’ when I told you EXACTLY how I felt,” I say raising my voice a little as Matt grabs my hand and rubs small circles on the top of my hand, which only infuriates Chris more.

“Whatever Y/N,” he says plopping back on the couch “but just remember who makes you cum, cause last time I checked that's me, Matt may look like me but I and you both know I'm the only one who makes you cum like that, every fucking time,” he says shoving chips in his mouth.

“Chris, Matt and i haven't had sex, Jesus” i could tell that my comment made matt a little shy, i mean we talked about it but it's not like we ever had the idea to.

“Wow, so now you're not sleeping with guys on the first date? When did you turn so classy?” Chris says shooting me a faux smile.

“Says you, according to everyone else in this house you bring girls in and out of here, Chris you've never taken me on one fucking date, not like I ever asked but for someone who constantly says how in love with me he is as he's balls deep in me, you'd assume that maybe he's got some feelings towards me,” I say practically dragging matt out of the house.

“No no hold on,” Chris stops us. “How about, after your little pitty date with my brother, let's see which one of us can make you cum better,” he says smirking.

I look over at Matt almost for approval, his face brightens at the idea of the possibility of proving himself better to Chris. “Deal” Matt says smirking at me shooting me a wink.

“Fine Chris whatever you want, you got it” i say tugging at Matts hand as a signal of exiting the house.

As soon as Matt and I stepped into his car, I felt the wind blowing through my hair. I looked outside the window as we pulled out of the driveway and hit the road towards the park. The sun was shining bright, and the chirping of the birds was the only sound I could hear. We were heading to the park to have a lovely picnic date, and I was hoping to leave behind what had just happened back at the house. Despite the beautiful surroundings, my mind couldn't help but wander back to the events that had taken place before we left.

“Hey you alright,” Matt says breaking my trance as he places his hand on my knee.

“Yeah, I'm good, I'm sorry about what happened back there,” I say softly smiling

“Oh about Chris? Don't even worry, I figured something along those lines was gonna happen considering how possessive he is over you” Matt says smiling almost as if nothing was bothering him or like he didn't agree to have a threesome with me and his fucking brother.

“Chris does not get possessive over me, that's for sure, he was only possessive when we would… you know” my voice trails off.

“Oh no you should have heard the way he talked about you when you weren't there, nick and I may not have known you guys were fucking but we definitely knew how pussy whipped he was” Matt chuckles to himself.

“Okay well I may not have heard Chris when I wasn't there but can we just leave the Chris topic behind till we get back to the house” I say laughing and leaning my head against the headrest looking at Matt through my lashes.

“Anything you want, you got it sweetheart” he smiles back at me placing his hand back on my thigh and rubbing back and forth.

When we finally reached the spot that had been designated by Matt for our picnic, I couldn't contain my excitement and started giggling like a kid. The area was a small clearing surrounded by tall trees, with rays of sunshine filtering through the leaves, bathing the ground in a warm glow. Matt carefully spread out a checkered picnic blanket, and arranged an array of delicious food and drinks on top of it. The colorful spread looked like something straight out of a gourmet magazine. I couldn't help but appreciate the effort he had put into making everything look so beautiful and inviting.

“Oh my god Matt this looks beautiful,” I say smiling down at the set up.

“I know you wanted this to just be a trial date but i honestly couldn't help myself but go overboard with everything” he says nervously chuckling and scratching the back of his head.

“No no, this is perfect, I've never really been on a date like this before, this is perfect, and oh my god chocolate-covered strawberries? THESE ARE MY FAVORITE” I squeal out of excitement and pull Matt down so we're both sitting on the blanket.

“I remembered from that Galentines Day thing you had with Nick one time and you had devoured like 10 of those” he chuckles softly.

During the remainder of the date, we had an amazing time. It wasn't just a superficial conversation, but we truly engaged with each other and actively listened to what the other person was saying. We discussed various topics, ranging from our interests and hobbies to our beliefs and values. The conversation flowed naturally, and we both felt comfortable sharing personal stories and experiences. It was a refreshing change from the typical small talk that often dominates first dates. Overall, it was a truly enjoyable experience.

As we were making our way back to the house, my mind was preoccupied with various thoughts, and I completely forgot about the unsettling encounter with Chris earlier. However, as we approached our destination, a sudden wave of anxiety washed over me, and my nerves kicked in. The fear and the excitement of the unknown and the possibilityof having both of them inside of me was flooding every other thought in my brain.

Upon our arrival at the house, after a somewhat long but seemingly short and peaceful drive, Matt and I made our way inside while holding hands and giggling like school children. However, to my surprise, I did not find Chris sitting on the couch as he usually does, and I couldn't hear Nick giggling or talking to anyone in his room like he often does.

“Chris? Nick?” Matt yells from the kitchen

“You think they left?” i say nervously

“Maybe” Matt says as he moves me so I'm facing him now and both of his hands rest on my hips looking down at me.

“Are you gonna keep looking at me like you wanna kiss me? Or are you gonna actually kiss me” My smile turns into a smirk as a little grin appears on his lips.

“If that's an invitation I'll gladly take it” he mutters as his face gets closer to mine pulling me closer by my hips and pressing his lips against mine passionately.

As Matt and I stood close to each other, lost in the moment, the sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly interrupted us. I turned my head towards the hallway and saw Chris leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on us. Embarrassed and caught off guard, I quickly took a step back from Matt. We both jumped at the sudden intrusion and felt our faces flush with embarrassment.

“Chris I didn't know you were here” matt says scratching the back of his head

“I made Nick go shopping and told him I was inviting someone over and wanted the house to myself,” Chris says smirking. “So did you consider our little bet, Y/N” he continues.

“Look, Chris, I'm only gonna agree to it if Y/N says she's 100% comfortable with it, I'm not like you, I'm not gonna assume she wants to do something and pressure her into doing something she doesn't want to” Matt defends

“Then you obviously don't know her the way I do, believe me,” Chris chuckles “She's an absolute freak, I know all her sexual fantasies, so what do you say, Y/N? Are you down?” he comes closer looking at me.

I look down playing with my bracelet on my wrist thinking for a moment. Would it be wrong to fuck both? How experienced was Matt? God, I wonder if that theory of twins was right. He's a triplet though but could he and Matt have the same dick size?

“You know what? Fuck it, but only if you two are down” I say shrugging my shoulders.

“DOWN,” Both Chris and Matt say in unison

Chris runs up to me throwing me over my shoulder as he guides me to his bedroom and Matt follows shortly behind him. Chris kicked his door open and carefully threw my body on his bed.

“Strip,” Chris says eyeing me up and down as both sets of blue eyes gaze down at me in pure lust.

My arms wrap around my torso pulling my shirt off and throwing it on the other side of the bed. I lift my hips up to shimmy my skirt down my legs and kick my skirt off leaving me bare considering i wore nothing under my dress.

“God you're such a whore wearing nothing underneath that outfit” Chris chuckled.

Matt smiled down as his eyes traveled down from mine and followed every curve of my body.

“I'm gonna let matt have first go only cause I've been between your legs many times before” Chris smirks.

Matt pulled my entire body down so my legs hung off the bed and immediately dipped his head down leaving small kisses down my thighs as his mouth kisses my clit making my hips jerk up and a smile appears on both Matt and Chris's Lips.

Chris slides around to the other side of the bed and places his legs on either side of my waist as Matt's tongue moves in between my folds collecting my taste.

“Oh fuck Matt, god you're so good” my back arches onto Chris’ chest as his hands begin to twist and fiddle with my nipples.

“Someones enjoying themselves” Chris chuckles in my neck as he places wet kisses from my jawline down my neck.

Matt smirks as his tongue flicks upwards to my clit. He lifts his head a little and brings his fingers to my mouth “Open” he sternly says.

My mouth obeys and his fingers glide into my mouth swirling my tongue around his ring and middle finger before he abruptly removes them and glides them into my needy hole and slightly curls them up hitting that soft gummy part of my insides.

My hips jerk upward “FUCK” I moan out burying my head in Chris’ neck causing him to chuckle.

“You like having both of us, don't you?” he spits out sucking purple marks down my neck.

“So close” I moan out as Matt's head lifts up just using his fingers and moving them up and down as his lips go between his teeth watching how my body moves in Chris's arms, observing how my sounds got louder as I got closer.

“Should we let her cum?” Chris says smirking to Matt.

“P-please” I stutter out as my eyes roll behind my head.

“Cum” Matt says as his pace with his fingers moved at an ungodly pace.

With his words, the knot in my stomach snapped and my legs began shaking as my orgasm dripped out of me and onto Matts's fingers.

“Flip,” Chris says in my ear.

I obeyed and flipped over on my stomach as both boys began undressing. I couldn't take my eyes off both Matt and Chris, my eyes flickered between the two, I've had sex with Chris thousands of times but each time was always so different. Seeing Matt bare in front of me I couldn't quite stop staring. He wasn't as big as Chris but his gerth made up for the lost inches.

“You see something ya like sweet girl,” matt says softly.

I swallow the lump in my chest and nod at him. A smile appears on both their faces. Matt walks around the bed to where my ass is and Chris kneels on the bed facing me.

“Why don't you use that pretty little mouth for something useful eh?” Chris takes my chin between his fingers and glides his thumb across my lip before rubbing his dick along my lips. “Be a good girl and open ya mouth for me” Chris smiles down at me.

I nod opening my mouth and taking the majority of his length in my mouth using my hand to pump the rest that wouldn't fit. Chris throws his head back and groans.

Matt smirks at the way I obey Chris’ commands and rubs his dick through my folds and slaps my clit a little making a muffled moan escape my lips sending vibrations through Chris.

Matt pushes his cock in my hole that's already clenching around the air and immediately bottoms out. “Fuck me,” he groans out “god damn you are so fucking tight” he begins to start thrusting in me pushing me farther down chris’ cock causing a Gagging noise.

“Your mouth is fucking perfect,” Chris says as he moves the hair out of my face.

Matt’s thrusts sped up as the sound of my moans was muffled by Chris’ dick being shoved farther down my throat making my eyes roll back. “I think she likes having both of her holes used hm?” Matt taunts.

I remove my mouth from Chris as Matt pushes my hips down into the mattress feeling the pit of my stomach drop as he reaches the deepest part in me as a pornographic moan comes out of my lips. “Oh fuck, Matt” I squeal out.

Chris moves my head back on his cock making a makeshift ponytail and forcing my head down deeper onto him as his eyes roll back at the feeling of hitting deep in my throat. “Fuck ma, you're throat takes my cock so fucking good” he groans out.

I start clenching around Matt signaling I was close to finishing as if my legs shaking wasn't a clear indication. “Are you close baby” Matt groans “You're clenching around me so good” he smiles devilishly.

“Mhm,” I mumble out.

“Fuck” Chris groans “You're gonna swallow every ounce,” he says forcing my eyes to look upon his. As he thrusts into my mouth a couple of times before finishing in my mouth as his hot ropes of cum coat my throat. “Show me” he grabs my throat as Matt still thrusts in me. I obeying stick my tongue out to show him i swallowed. “Good girl” he smiles down at me slapping my cheek very lightly.

“Fuck!” i scream out “c-close” i grab Chris's hand as my close orgasm becomes unbearably intense.

“Cum, Cum all over my fucking dick” matt grunts out slamming his cock deep into me.

Before I could even think about his words my orgasm squirted out of me and drenched his lower half and the bed. Matt chuckles giving me a couple more thrusts and groaning out as he paints my once-pink walls, white. My body went limp against Chris’ body causing him and Matt to chuckle.

“Are you alright Y/N” Matt asks placing his hand on my lower back.

“Mhm,” I start “That was the most intense orgasm I've had in a WHILE,” I say picking myself up off Chris and sitting on the bed trying to regain myself.

“I could see why Chris was so pussy whipped” matt chuckles.

“I fucking told you she's fucking incredible” Chris chimes in.

“I'm literally right here Chris,” I softly laugh “Can I wear one of you guys’ clothes? I don't feel like getting mine back on”

“On it” both boys said at the same time.

“I'll get her a hoodie” matt says rushing to his room.

“I'll grab the pants” Chris walks over to his drawer tossing me a pair of pants as Matt walks back in tossing me one of his hoodies.

Chris and Matt both throw on the clothes they previously had on and I throw on the clothes I had borrowed.

My mind was flooding with reminiscing thoughts of the recent event that had just happened while Matt and Chris just acted like nothing happened but I brushed it off and just wanted to let things happen as the day progressed.

“So can we watch a movie or DoorDash some food?” i say breaking the science of all of us just sitting in Chris's bedroom

“Absolutely,” they say in unison.

“Get me some Alfredo” I smile at them.

“Already had it in my cart” Chris laughs.

After they had ordered the food both of them laid down next to me and handed me the remote, I turned it on to Gossip Girl and Chris instantly adjusted himself as this was the show we watched every time I came over to spend the night.

“Wait did chuck sleep with her? I thought he was with Blair?” Chris says turning to me.

“No remember Chris, Blair, and Chuck broke up when Chuck slept with Dan’s sister,” I say laughing

“Woah woah” Matt starts “Chris actually watches this shit with you?” Matt chuckles.

“Shut up” Chris groans out of embarrassment.

“Oh yeah and he fucking loves it” I add

“I'm so lost,” Matt says shaking his head smiling.

“I'll catch you up one day,” I say smiling at Matt

“So where does this leave us” Chris says more seriously as he turns his head to both Matt and I.

“Just shut up, for now, Chris, I don't wanna worry about what girl you're gonna bring home after I leave, just let me watch this” i breath out.

The thought of where Chris and i’s relationship was gonna go wasn't in my head until he brought it up. But now I'm facing another problem. What am I gonna do with matt? He was absolutely amazing and his dick game was no fucking joke. But in the wise words of Katherine Pierce “it's okay to love them both, i did”

And i happen to love both of them.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: AHH SO HERES LES PT 2, I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!! i don’t plan on making this a series but i hope you guys loved it!! also if you can’t tell i love gossip girl lol ALSO TYSM FOR 600 FOLLOWERS!!

[ahomeformyself]

When i was a teen at the late 90s, I met a friend group of my same town for the first time. We all were kind of freaks. They invited me to take a snack at Carla`s home. I always wanted to se the interioris of her house. Was a large building of two floors that crossed the block, with two facades, one on each parallel street, one of them with a little front garden. The outside wall was maroon, and full of plants and flowers, with strange stone decorations. The other acces, was one of the older libraries of my homwtown. The type of store where you buy books, school and craft supplies, plushies.... Everytime I walk into the store, I imagine how it woul be that home. And when my new frind group invited me, wasn't dissapointing at all.

The floors had colorfull hydraulic tile mosaics, different in every room. The distribution was strange, seems like the people who lived there were more concerned about being happy than being normal. They had a precious kitchen, with pure wood cabinets, and a giant table in the middle. All the windows had color glass and curved wood frames. My country is famous for being full of modernist arquitecture from the beggining of the 19th century, and that home was an example of that influence. in ffront of the kitchen, there was a large hall that ended in a conservatory, with the garden in the background. That room was full of rugs and instruments. Any kind of instruments. Carla's dad was a musician, like herself and her brother, and their grandma was a piano player. Next to the conservatory, it was a little room, with two puffs, a tv, and the walls were fully covered with videotapes, almost all of them were 80's scifi films. Next to that room, were the stairs for to second floor. I don't remember how the bedrooms looked like, because I only entered into the bathroom. A giant bathroom. The floor, the walls, and the roof was covered in craked color tiles, making filigrees and figures. The sink and the bathub were cosntructed. and covered with the same motifs with craked tiles. The craked tile style is typical from here, and every town has a home like that, normally made by the same owners of the house. The bathroom also had big plants. It was like a movie set.

Visiting that home, made me decide I was going to live like them. At my own, with my own rules, with my own desires, with my own ideas. I was 14yo, and before walking into that house, my thughts about adulthood never suggered any type of love for nothing. I saw ''the growing thing'' as a dead of the soul and a productivity obsession. That home teached me I was worng. That home teached me you need to surround yourself with the correct souls.

That day I learned a little bit of how real magic works.

[koiiiji]

windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 1)

warnings : no in general, maybe a ooc, but its my point of view, fluff

recommend : to turn on Lana Del Ray - West Coast

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

Dom - arranged marrige. we take into account the fact that Dom is the heir of the yakuza. His father had long dreamed of the idea of uniting the two clans to expand the business, strengthen the position, and in general he was very close with the head of another clan, you know the type of male friendship when they brag about who has the coolest car and everything like that. (for about the same reason, you and Dom have an age difference of a couple of months) In general, when you were born, your fathers did not immediately decide that this would be a planned marriage, they still wanted freedom of choice for their children, but the two old men were too fascinated when you and Dom played together in the sandbox, or you two shared toys, and overall you got along great as babies. But as the years passed, interests changed, and from about 2-3 grades you began to have a "crisis in relationships", Dom were more interested in the "boyish" things, you in turn discovered the Internet and the charms of fictional characters (real footage of all of us). Therefore, your communication has gone from about infantile sympathy to childish antipathy when boys say "eeew girls, im not interested in them" and to the complete cessation of communication over the years. Well, your fathers also almost lost hope, trying to try on two fifth graders at holiday feasts, but everything ended up making faces at each other, and Dom’s first showed middle finger and yours first obscene phrases in response to him (later you both received a cradle from your parents) but the decision had already been made, and so everyone decided to just wait.

In fact, everything happened spontaneously. As it happens, girls grow faster, and there were no exceptions with you. So since you saw each other less often, Dom did not immediately recognize you, and of course refused to admit to himself that he liked you, and he decided to shove this sympathy away. A couple more years have passed, and you again super accidentally (no) met at one of your parents' clubs. This time it was your turn not to recognize Dom. And when you realized in the morning whose house you were in, you were shocked. So it tooks you two another 1-2 years to actually accept that planned things needed to be done and the idea of marriage in the first place wasn’t that bad.

Owen - forbidden love/ rivals/ competitors. While you honestly believed that your boiling hate for each other was mutual, Owen found it quite cute and intriguing how each time you trying to compete with him and how mad you get if you lose or if he jokingly flirts with you. Of course, he found you quite an interesting opponent, but you attracted him more as a girl, although it was still difficult because of your rival teams, and as Camila once told him when she noticed how he was staring at you at another training session, where he came intentionally before the rest of the Light Cavalry participants, "This won't be good for the image of our team." Usually you see him in training center, when your team finishes training, or when you wait for Light Cavalry to finish, or on the competitions and it always ends with your threatenings to his life or his bike. Of course you didn’t mean it so serious, it was kinda like tradition - he always so nice and jokes around while you all loud and screaming at him for his flirting lines.

Usually, you two never see each other somewhere in the city or on the streets, apparently you lived in different areas and everyday affairs were too different from each other, but somehow, now, almost at 11 pm, you look at each other in surprise, standing in the park, where both of you came to practice and free your heads from burdened thoughts. Owen wanted to break the awkward silence by greeting you, but you beat him to it by sternly asking “What are you doing here?” He smiled softly and running his hand through his hair, as he replied “I came here just to clear my head before sleep, shortcake. I hadn’t any intentions to interrupt you.” And looking up at you again, he smiled so sweetly, in his usual manner. You clicked irritably and went to meet him, “Then, since you're already here, let's have a race, and the loser is looking for another park, deal?” Again, she frowned so sweetly at her eyebrows, just the very seriousness - Owen thought to himself looking down at you from his height. Like all the smartest, the idea was certainly not bad, you even thought at the moment that you were about to win, because the agreed finish was already around the corner, when suddenly Owen jumped out from behind you and did a risky trick that allowed him to get ahead. But unfortunately, either out of surprise or confusion, you lost control and collapsed almost at the finish line. Your speed was decent, and your knees, shoulders and arms had a hard time now, all bleeding. Slowly rising from the ground, you felt such resentment and at the same time anger, either at yourself or at Owen. And all such a seething feeling of resentment, because of such a small mistake, to lose at the very finish, overwhelmed you with your head, and flowed out with tears from your eyes. You sat down by your fallen bike, hugged your bleeding knees and buried your forehead in them letting yourself cry. Suddenly you felt someone stroking your head and sitting down next to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. Looking up, as you expected, you saw Owen, and shrugged your shoulders and squeal at him “Get the fuck away from me! I don’t need your pity and help!” “Hey, hey, easy shortcake, im not a monster to let girl, who is also injured, be alone in park at night.” He tried to take you by the shoulders again. “I said get away!” You clearly didn’t planned to stop crying, and Owen understood that you’ll have a tantrum in a moment, so he decided to ignore your screams and pulled you closer, already hugging you completely. Of course, you didn't appreciate this gesture, you started pounding him in the chest with your fists, shouting for him to let go, for you to try again, that this time you would definitely defeat him and in general how much you dislike him. And Owen just held you tight, and let your screams and crying be drowned out in his sweater. After a couple of minutes, you were just crying into his chest while he pulled you closer, sat you down between his legs and just gently stroked your back.

When you finally calmed down and raised your tear-stained, red eyes to him, Owen gently put his hand on your cheek and quietly asked, “Well, have you calmed down? Will you let me help you now, shortcake?” taking a confused look away from him and blushing, you said, “If anyone finds out about this, you're finished, got it?” Owen laughed loudly and pulled you closer to him, and dropping his free hand on your cheek, gently kissed you.

Harry - hate/love or sunny/grumpy. Even ignoring the fact that you’ve been in the same team, he somehow never liked you. Honestly, he didnt even know the reason. You had such a bright personality, always nice to people around and guys in team,but still defended your interests and borders when it was necessary. Harry just couldn’t stand you. In his eyes you were quite ideal, he even accepted that you were kinda powerful at cycling. But most blood boiling fact about you were that Harry knew perfectly - he had a thing for you, but he decided for himself to hide it under mask of indifference and disinterest, because come on, feelings make you weak (such a men moment)

But the other thing about you that Harry absolutely couldn’t stand - is your tears. He saw it only twice, once when it was your first year with the Light Cavalry, the team came to wish you a happy birthday right at 12 a.m., and you burst into tears from the joy and sweetness of this act of attention. And the other time was when Harry himself brought you to tears, because you chewed his brains all day. He think that sometimes you have a bad habit activated, walking around and teasing him all day, offering to compete in something, and just dripping on his brain, because you probably have a pleasure to bring him to a white heat. And when he couldn't stand it one more time, he turned sharply at you and barked - "Are you a complete idiot? I think I told you to fuck off from me, leave me alone and go fuck someone else's brains out. How many times can I tell you, I don't intend to compete with someone like you," - and Harry took care to squeeze the word "like" like poison into your mind. And fortunately for him, as he convinced himself, you stopped bothering him after that time and resorted to communicating with him only in the most necessary cases. So for the first few days he liked how you avoided him, but after a week and a half of your absence from his daily life, he began to feel sad and guilty for being harsh with you... But wasn’t it your own fault!? That's right, it was your fault. But didn't he like your attention? Wasn't he warmed by the rays of your warmth?.. Damn, all these thoughts were difficult for Harry, and he did it easier - he left training earlier, stopped by the store on the way, bought a random gift that reminded him of you, went to your house and waited for you at the entrance to the house. To say less, you were shocked when you saw him near the building were you live, but decided to act all cool and just to pass by. He didn’t let you. Harry grabbed your elbow, but you tried to pull away, he turned you around to face him and grabbed your other elbow. “Let me go, you creep!!” You could feel how tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t understand why he even came here, he supposed to be in other place, he supposed to hate you, he supposed… “For the fuck sake just shut up and take it.” He handed you a gift. You were confused and looked up at him with an obvious question “why?” in your pretty eyes. Harry clicked tongue, left your elbows and started to walk away. When you softly mumbled “Thank you” he turned around and quickly closing the distance, he awkwardly hugged you. For the first few seconds you freaked out, but gave up and hugged him back and mumbled "You idiot" in his hoodie. Harry chuckled at your comment and squeezed your back harder "At least im not a crybaby as someone". He got a reminder that you can kick his knees pretty hard.

Hwangyeon - school crush. You were quite popular girl from his class - moderately smart, kind, but not enough to take advantage of your kindness, beautiful and friendly person in general. The fact that Hwang tried to get your attention by his money flex, “cool” - as he thought - actions towards other people in school, where so obvious, as the fact that he liked you. But you weren’t impressed by his shitty personality and usually you treated him coldly or mocked him about he is trying to assert himself at the expense of others. Was he mad at you for that? No, of course, he melted like butter in a hot frying pan from every second of your attention, and bragging to his boys that you two had “conversation”.

Actually his friends, everyone around and mainly Sangho were tired of Hwang’s whinings at home and he told him what to do. So here he is, standing in doors of your class begging you to help him with his english class. Since he asked you nicely and promised not to mock students as long as you help him, you agreed to tutor him for some topics that he couldn’t understand. So with time you two became a little bit closer and you even been in his place and know Hwang’s siblings. (both of them thought that he is paying you to be his friend*) In the midst of one of these preparations Hwangyeon was whining about how he didn’t understand anything and probably won’t pass this exam. You hated the fact that he was giving up fast and easy, but luckily you knew how to motivate this guy. In a second, you grabbed his cheeks with both hands, turned his head towards you and said “Listen, we’ve been preparing for this for so long and you gonna drop everything because of small misunderstanding? I already wanted to take you out for ice cream if you wrote this test better than the guy who sits behind me at school, but since you've already given up, well, I guess i’ll have to go with him instead.” you said slowly letting his cheeks go. Hwang took your hand, to let it stay on his cheek and rise his eyes up on you and with dead serious eyes muttered “If my score will be higher than 75%, we will go for that ice cream.” You smiled at him and said that it is deal.

Spoiler : his score was 68% his friends and you laughed at him for his bragging before exam, but you still took him to that ice cream shop and kissed his cheek for a good bye.

*bonus

its been quite long preparation session for english final exam before summer weekends, so you decided to continue at Hwang’s place. it wasn’t your first time visiting his place, maybe third or fourth, so his siblings already knew you, when you enter the house. you greeted everyone, warned them that you would be preparing for the exam and went to Hwang’s room. after few hours of studying you were tired of punching and shouting at your friend so you left the room for glass of juice and in the dim light of the kitchen you met Sangho with his laptop and glass of something probably alcoholic. you stare at each other for a second and you awkwardly announced that you came for pack of juice that two of you left in fridge. Sangho mumbled something softly and turned back to his laptop, when you were about to leave the room he raised his eyes from laptop again and asked in serious voice “did he pay you?”

you froze in place you were standing and on stiff legs, turning to him. “mhmm?”

“did my brother pay you to pretend to be his friend or whatever you two are?”

“n-no? he just asked me for help, t-that’s why im here!” he grunted something like okay and went back to his laptop. when door after you closed, Aria got out from behind the sofa and held out her hand to her brother. Sangho, in turn, pulled a banknote out of his pocket and gave it to his sister without a word.

[eideticmemory]

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

You and your husband are house hunting together! :) It sucks! :)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning/Includes: Husband!Matthew, Dad!Matthew, HusbandYouCan’tStopBickeringWith!Matthew all with a happy ending.

Inflection points are real. When you open one of those cheesy books like Before You Tie the Knot and What to Expect When You’re Expecting, they all mention it. Cohabitation and marriage and children, they’re decisions in your life that take you down a completely different direction from which there is no coming back. And on top of this insurmountable and self-inflicted change is the subtle implication that these are the last decisions you will ever make on your own. Which…sucks, which is different, which takes some adjusting, but it’s never been this hard. It has never been so hard for you and Matthew to band together, put your pride aside, and work as a team to make everybody happy. But this isn’t about something small like marriage or children. This is about a house.

This is serious.

When Matthew said that he was willing to pack up everything and move from California to your home state, you were so happy that you could’ve vomited. Your entire body vibrated with excitement and gratitude and peace. You tore his clothes off right then and there, you were so happy. You were so happy that you were going home and that your daughter would grow up riding down the same streets, that she would never know what LA traffic was like and even more so happy that Matthew didn’t suggest Vegas. You love him, you hate the desert.

And it is with this excitement that you crawled into bed that same night and started scrolling on Zillow. Nuzzled into Matthew’s side, giggling, giddy. Your eyes landed on a house and you clicked it, asking, “What about this one?”

And at the same time, you exclaim, “It’s so cute!” Matthew scrunches his face, saying, “It’s terrible.”

You turn to look at each other, very slowly, making eye contact with just the tiniest bit of fear. But, that was just the first house. You both assumed that it would get easier. That there would be some homes you could heart and save for later. But that never happened.

It just got harder.

Because for whatever reason, four walls isn’t enough for Matthew. No, it’s got to be just like his little lodge with all the nooks and crannies and secret trap doors and stupid spiral stairs that you have slipped on at least three times in the past month. It’s not that you don’t love it here but it is abundantly clear that Bachelor Matthew bought this and it is perfect for Bachelor Matthew, maybe Married Matthew and his Married Wife, but now there’s toys everywhere and a play pen that takes up the entire living room and you do not find it as charming as when you first visited. Nor do you want another house just like it.

You like victorian houses. You like the creepy attics and the creaky floors, stained glass windows and narrow, wooden stairs. You find one on Zillow and you’re so excited to show Matthew, but instead of smiling or hell, even just pretending to show interest, he taps the screen and scoffs, “Four bedrooms?”

And you nearly slap him across the head but married people aren’t supposed to do that. So instead you suck in a slow breath and exhale, “Yes…four bedrooms. What’s wrong with that?”

“So, our room, Rory’s room, guest room and room for…what, one other kid?”

“Who…who is the other kid?”

“Our other kid. Our other kids. Where are they gonna sleep?”

You stutter, shake your head to rescramble your brain, “How many kids are you trying to have, Matthew?”

“Well, I was raised mormon so anywhere between ten to twenty is ideal,” he smirks.

“You being funny? You trying to be funny right now?”

“At least with five bedrooms, we could throw in bunk beds.”

You turn to leave and Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you back into him, “Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay, okay. I think…five bedrooms. Minimum.”

“Oh, are you sure that will be enough for our multiple litters?”

“[y/n],” he laughs.

“Matthew, this house is gorgeous. It’s old and well kept. It’s in a great area, the primary bedroom is stunning, they already have a nursery staged, and you haven’t bothered to look because…because, what? Because we might have ten million children? I mean, we won’t. But what the fuck?”

“It’s not speaking to me. We agreed the house should speak to both of us.”

“Oh, okay, well, let me translate. This house is saying…” you pick up your phone and wave it in his face, “Good luck with those other kids, Matthew. I wonder who you’ll have them with.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says as you storm off. “That’s hilarious.”

When he approaches later with a house of his own to show you, you’re patting Rory to sleep on your chest and it kind of annoys you when she wakes up to the sound of Matthew’s voice.

“Look at this one, babe,” he takes a seat beside you. “Five beds, five and a half baths, look,” and you sit quiet, let him scroll through, a subtle nod to the patience he lacks. But, still, quiet, your face says it all and he asks, “Why are you making that face?”

“It’s…” you glance at him. “Boring…”

“What? Boring? It looks like a castle.”

“On the outside…the inside is completely modern. And where…” you tap the screen, “Is it? Oh, no, I don’t want to live at the country club. My daughter will not get mowed down in the street because she was on the back of some corporate heir’s golf cart.”

Matthew tilts his head at you, his jaw dropped in genuine confusion.

“It happens!” you whisper.

“Babe…”

“It’s not speaking to me, Matthew, I’m sorry? What about you, Rory, huh? Is it speaking to you?” And your baby girl babbles, smiling, reaching out for Matthew and it makes him forget that you’re insane for a little bit. “I don’t think it’s speaking to her.”

Matthew takes her into his arms and holds her close, her head instantly falling on his shoulder. “This is about that tiny victorian house, isn’t it?” he asks you.

“Well…” you stand up. “It certainly wasn’t boring…not like you would know.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” he nods. “So…you do? Like this house, or…no?”

You roll your eyes and walk off, turning the baby’s sound machine on as you exit the room.

Immediately mediation is necessary. So the two of you decide to hire a realtor and poor Maci, there’s only so much she can do.

“Do you know what zipcode you’d prefer?”

“I personally love the downtown area or the northwest area?” you chime in. “Near the children’s museums and aquatic centers, y’know?”

Maci glances at Matthew but you’re quick to assure her, “Oh, he doesn’t know where anything is here. He’s western.”

And for some reason, that just sets him off? He furrows his eyebrows at you and says, “Well yeah…but I’ve been here plenty of times before.”

“Oh? You’ve visited? Did you grow up here?” you tilt your head at him. “Oh? No? Okay.”

Poor Maci, it was so uncomfortable. At this point, it’s her and Rory looking at each other to cut the tension. And she jots down all these must haves that the two of you fire at rapid speed. Like, for Matthew, it’s a three car garage and at this, you mutter, “Jesus…”

And he goes, “What could possibly be wrong with a three car garage?”

“Nothing! Nothing! We just…only have two, but whatever,” you shrug.

Like, you’d prefer an all brick house and at this Matthew scoffs.

“Oh, you want the wind to blow it down?” you snip.

“Ah yes, the only possible housing options…brick, plastic and straw.”

“There’s nothing wrong with an all brick house. It looks better.”

“So you say.”

“So it is,” you snap, tilt your head at him.

“I’m gonna take Rory outside for a bit,” he stands from his chair.

“Oh, good. Try to find a third car while you’re out there,” and the door shuts behind him.

Maci lets out a tense breath and you smile shyly at her, “So…yeah, brick. Let’s go with brick.”

By the time you get back to your hotel, Rory’s tired and full enough to fall right asleep in her pack and play and it’s perfectly quiet because Matthew hasn’t said a word to you.

“So,” you grumble. “You’re just…not gonna talk to me…forever? You don’t like me anymore?”

“You embarrassed the hell out of me in front of that lady.”

“Ditto.”

“Okay, well, I need you to be okay with me disagreeing with you sometimes. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I love you!”

And he says this with so much conviction that you feel your guard drop. “You love me?”

His face softens, “Yes…c’mon. Be serious. I love you more than anything. You’re just…ugh,” he pushes his hair back. “Easy to disagree with.”

Guard: back up. “Easy to disagree with?” you repeat after him, ennuciating every word. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he shrugs. “Exactly that.”

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment and can’t even look directly at him as you say, “Yeah, don’t talk to me anymore.”

He gives you the most passive aggressive thumbs up to ever exist, “Sounds good.”

You take a nice, long, long shower and when you come out of the bathroom, Matthew and Rory are watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood on the TV. They give you the exact same look when their heads whip around, definitely related, definitely happy to see you. Her tiny hands reach out for you and Matthew, with his face neutral, lifts the blanket to let you in. You crawl into bed and land in the crook of his arm because that’s your spot. Your head falls on his chest and it’s okay because, technically, he’s not speaking to you.

Maci lines up exactly five houses for you to tour on your next visit. She figures, surely, one must be a common ground. Out of them all, the right one must be there.

Poor Maci.

Two zipcodes. Brick. Plaster. Grand great rooms. Kitchen islands, sometimes two. Libraries. Bay windows. Basements. Each house sings its own special song. Some, you hear clear as day, calling you home. They speak to you. They don’t speak to your husband. Unfortunately, that matters.

In the last house, you follow Maci around until the dreaded, “what do ya’ think?” question in the kitchen.

“I love it,” Matthew grins. And that grin sinks when he sees the pout on your lips. Your arms across your chest. “[y/n] doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t speak for me,” you roll your eyes.

“But you don’t like it, though.”

“It’s…boring.”

“Okay,” he sighs. He can’t hear you say that one more time. “Babe, no one knows what that means.”

“Um, I think Maci knows, soooo must just be you.”

The glare you two give each other, on either side of this luxury island, is intense enough to make the entire 3,000 square feet house feel small. Very, very small.

Rory is with your parents and without her, the drive back to the hotel is very quiet. Very tense. Matthew rushes into the bathroom as soon as he can and you plop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. When he emerges from the bathroom, he’s shirtless and pouting and moody and broody and you can feel it. You can see it in the way he stomps around and rummages through his suitcase.

He says, “So,” without turning to you. “Not one winner today?”

“Ugh!” It flies out of your mouth before you can contain it. You literally pull at your hair in frustration and Matthew watches with his mouth agape. You rip your shirt off your body and the cool air from the fan hits you immediately. Now you’re both shirtless and pouting and moody and broody. You don’t need to talk about it.

“Do we have to discuss it right now or can we postpone for like…an hour or so?” you ask. You insist. You are begging, tilting your head at him.

And his first thought is: no way she’s trying to fuck me right now? But you are. He can see it in your eyes and the way they lower as he walks over to you. Your hands plant themselves on his waist and you lean into his touch as his palm engulfs your cheek.

“Make it two hours?” he runs his thumb along your lip.

You shrug, running your hands up his waist, “Make it as long as you’d like.”

He nods, “Okay,” and pushes you back onto the bed where you land with a quiet ‘oof!’ before he crawls on top of you.

It kills a lot of time. Lot of tension to work out.

Your body is relaxed like never before as you lay there naked against his chest, with his lips peppering soft kisses on your sweaty shoulder. As you catch your breath, it’s the most comforting silence you’ve shared in a while.

You touch his lips and he kisses your fingertips, holds your wrist in his grasp. “Not one winner, huh?” he whispers, holding to catch you at peace.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head and cover his mouth. “Not yet.”

He nods, nibbles on your wrist, “Fair enough.”

Your both in such a good mood when you go to pick up Rory. She crawls over to you at lightning speed and babbles excitedly and you coo over her like you’ve never met her before. You missed her.

And this joy is misinterpreted in a way that someone says, “You two are happy, did you find a house?” so your smiles drop.

“No,” you say in unison.

As Maci embarks on her next hunt, she’s opted for sending you virtual tours. She sends them in groups of four at a time and they are very useful. You can lay in bed, curled into Matthew’s side as he clicks around on his laptop and the serenity of it makes it harder to bicker.

Doesn’t make any of the houses suck any less, though. Doesn’t stop the annoyed sighs and smacking of teeth and the abrupt ‘whatevers’ to change the subject and the screen.

The very last of the bunch, you have your hopes up. The exterior is promising. The number of bedrooms, bathrooms. Matthew opens the view of the entryway and you just stand up, “I’m done. I’m going to shower. Goodnight.” And he, just as disappointed, shuts the laptop quickly.

It was nice to at least be on the same page with that one.

And poor Maci, she’s trying so hard. The two of you are stressing her out, but it’s hard to say what the outcome would be without a realtor equally as stubborn. Because when she thinks - no. When she knows she’s found the one, she calls your phone at midnight and leaves a voicemail saying - I am so sorry to call you so late but there is a house and I want you and Matthew to come see it as soon as possible. [pause] How soon can that be?

It’s soon. You make the trip back out there but it is done with very little enthusiam or optimism. You suspect that Maci knows this and she’s opting for suspense to lure you in. This is a blind viewing. She’s driving. You just have to wait and see.

“The country club?” is your first impression as she drives you into the neighborhood.

“Is this not one of the zipcodes you picked?” Matthew asks you and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. It is, I’m just making an observation. Damn.”

“You can opt in or out of being a member at the club,” Maci chimes in. “Completely voluntary.”

“Is this where we’re gonna live, Maci?” Matthew laughs.

“I think so,” she nods. “I really think so.”

Because all you and Matthew wanted was to know. To not have to think, but to see it and know. To see a house that was, at first sight, yours. To know.

And when you slowed down upon the house on the hill, you both knew. You both gasped. You looked at each other.

The driveway is gated and is almost like a rollercoaster up the hill. This rollercoaster ends at nothing other than a three car garage on an all brick house. Brick stairs leading the front door which lead to an entryway where you feel it. You know, with one step on the hardwood floor, this house is yours.

Maci goes into full tour mode, “So this is the foyer and all you walk in, you have your formal dining room on the left…” and you are holding Matthew’s hand. You are holding his hand and wrapped around his arm and the two of you are walking and staring at this house and Maci’s voice just sounds like “blah blah blah blah blah…”

There’s two islands in the kitchen. A large sunroom right beside it that gives entry to the lush backyard. A center fireplace in the living room. Built in bookshelves. A guest room, a guest bathroom.

It all just flows.

The main bedroom is upstairs and it has two closets. You nearly faint in each other’s arms - two whole closets!

There’s 4 additional bedrooms on the upper floor and so, yes, should it be that you have multiple litters of children, there’s room. Just in case.

Way below is the basement where there’s not only plenty of room to lounge but a full wet bar lined with green tile and neon lights lining the walls. You exit the basement and plant your feet in the driveway, coming full circle to Maci’s car. She turns to you both, her smile as wide as yours.

“So?” she asks anxiously.

You look at your husband and he’s already looking at you. “Speaking to you?” he grins.

“Yelling at me,” you laugh.

He giggles and can’t help but kiss your cheek. He turns to Maci and nods, “You were right. This is it.”

The paperwork and red tape is the last of the bullshit and that itself feels very short in comparison to the past few months. It’s the easiest. It’s the happiest. So far. By the time the two of you are alone in your car, you take a full minute to breathe. Then you look at each other and the words come rushing out.

“Is it really over?” you ask.

“It’s really over.”

“I love it. Do you love it?”

“I love it!”

“Me, too! Aw, I wish Rory had been there. I wish she had seen it.”

“She’ll see it. She’ll love it.”

“She will!”

And with the sweetest laugh ever, Matthew grabs your face and kisses you. You’re giggling so much that it’s not a true, proper kiss but it does its job. You get the message.

“Do you know what this means?” he says.

“Yes, now I won’t have to smother you in your sleep.”

“No no, you’ve still got plenty of time for that. Besides that, do you know what this means?”

You chuckle, kiss his nose, “What?”

“Furniture shopping!” He cheers.

You gasp, you tear yourself away from him just to buckle your seat belt. “Oh, my god. You’re so right. So true.”

He laughs as he buckles himself in, holding your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. He asks, “Are we friends again?” with a pout on his face and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

You bring his hand to your face and kiss his knuckles in return, “Best friends.”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act II - “Good girl, sad boy, big city, wrong choices…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

15 Years Earlier... 

You pick at the grass in front of you, plucking each blade with the utmost precision. “Can I ask you a question?”

Steve watches on as you pick at the grass, content to watch you in the warm glow of the sunset, “Yeah.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him as the question leaves your mouth in a timid tone you’ve never taken with Steve. “Have you had your first kiss yet?”

A fierce blush paints Steve’s face. It's his turn to stare at the grass. He rakes his fingers through the blades of grass, refusing to look you in the eye. “No… have you?”

You shake your head, finally finding the courage to sneak a glance at him. You pluck blade of grass after blade of grass leaving a small bald spot in Steve’s backyard. “No.”

He clears his throat. “Why?”

“Bucky said he had his first kiss.”

Steve snorts, rolling his eyes, “I know. He won’t shut up about it.” 

“I guess I didn’t know that guys stopped thinking girls were gross,” you lightly joke, finally able to look up from the grass and up at your best friend. “When did that happen?”

He stares at you as the question falls from your lips. You look at him and see the same bright blue eyes you’ve seen every day since your family moved into the house beside his. 

Your best friend. The boy you’d known since your world was one block wide. Those same eyes, and yet, it felt different.

You'd heard the warning dozens of times. From your parents. From your teachers. You and Steve were at an age where things started to change. From one day to the next, the girls in your class went from talking about how they hated boys to hushed whispers about who was going to take them to the next school dance.

Your mom somewhat unsubtly hinted that you and Steve might someday be more than just friends. You were so throughly warned, and yet you'd never felt more throughly blindsided. Feelings flooded the pit of your stomach without a warning. The boy you'd known since you were five, he suddenly seemed... different.

It was the sort of different that you didn't have the words for. All you had to go off of was the fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach that erupted whenever he smiled at you. 

“I didn’t think you were gross,” Steve offers. 

“Only because we were the only kids on our street,” you retort. “You’d have been all alone without me.” 

It was true. Both Steve's and your mom had no qualms about forcing you to play together in your backyards. As an only child, your mom constantly worried about you not being around kids your own age. And with the way Steve was picked on as the neighborhood playground, his mom was certain he was destined for a lonely childhood. Until you came along. 

“I would’ve had Bucky,” Steve counters.  

“Bucky lives on a different street. You didn't meet him until school.” 

“I’m not worried about getting my first kiss.” 

Your gaze snaps back to him, brows furrowed as you try to figure out who Steve had planned for his first kiss. “Really? Why?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve bitterly chuckles. Though you didn't see it, you knew what he was talking about. You heard it in the mean, borderline cruel, verbal jabs some of the other kids at school liked to hurl at Steve. Even now, he was small, more frail than most, if not all, of the boys in your class. He still struggled with his asthma. He was shy and a little dorky. You knew what people thought about him. But he was, and you were sure always would be, your best friend, your Steve. He rolls his eyes at you like all of those perceived flaws should be as obvious to you as they are to him. “Have you looked at me? I’ll be lucky if I get kissed before I graduate high school.”

“I’d kiss you.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, blown so far out of proportion that it looks almost cartoonish. You'd probably find the look on his face funny if you weren't so thoroughly mortified. “What?”

“I’m not - I mean - I’m just saying, if we get to our high school graduation and you haven’t been kissed, I’d kiss you.” 

He groans, tossing his head back, “Great, I’ll have to wait another five years for a pity kiss.” 

“It’s not a pity kiss if I want to kiss you.” 

His eyebrows pull in as his brain works overtime trying to piece together exactly what you're telling him. “So you want to kiss me?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you challenge. 

“I asked you first.” 

You shrug your shoulders, trying to seem as casual as your racing heart will allow you to, “Like I said, I’d kiss you.” 

“I’d kiss you too.”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

You don’t allow yourself to think about what you’re doing. You lean forward as far as you can with your crossed legs. He gasps as your lips gently graze his. The soft breath dances across your lips. 

Just as you’re about to pull away, he closes the rest of the gap, firmly molding his lips to yours. Once. Twice. His hand slowly slides closer to yours. He fumbles forward, resting his hand on yours.

He gulps, wheezing slightly as he pulls away, “That - that was nice.” 

The sound of blood rushing roars in your ears. All you can bring yourself to focus on is the intense flush of his cheeks. And ‘nice’. You’re not sure you’ll ever un-hear how the word fell from his lips. 

Nice. 

Nice. 

Nice?

“Nice?”

“Yeah, it - it was nice.” 

In that moment, it occurs to him that there were probably a million and one better things to say, a million and one better words to describe a kiss other than ‘nice’. 

Your face warms as you feel embarrassment floods your system. “I should go. My mom's probably waiting for me.” 

He doesn't get a word out before you stand up and run out of his backyard. 

Your face flames as you run the dozen or so yards back to your front yard. You burst through the front door as quickly as you can. You don't waste a single moment as you race up the stairs and to your room, praying your parents didn't bear witness to your storm of emotions. 

You slump down on the edge of your bed. Your mind races. He said it was nice.

Nice wasn't bad, but you were sure it wasn't good either.

You would normally go to Steve about this kind of thing, but that was clearly out of the question.

You definitely couldn't tell Bucky about this.

You don’t know what any of it meant - if it even meant anything. 

And you certainly didn’t know that this would be the moment everything had changed.

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

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[krobezgades]

BANJO

W: timeskip 50 years after the events of Act 3 of Arcane's season 2; OC with no name, no use of Y/N, english is not my first language, I apologize if there are any mistakes or inaccuracies in the text. It’s kind of songfic actually, so if you want you can check on song «Мне было бы легче петь — Аквариум» and its lyrics.

No matter how fiercely the stone is wounded, it bears no grudge and harbors no plans for revenge over its chipped side. It just lies awkwardly in place, cracked at its most visible point, steadfastly enduring the gazes of passersby. Ten years will pass, and moss will creep up its summit, completely enveloping its cold, scarred flesh. Then, wrapped in a fluffy green cocoon, it will conceal from everyone the very existence of that chip. It will know of it alone, quietly coexisting with the thought of its small imperfection. An enchanting imperfection.

The reborned city will cherish its scars from a distant past as if they were its greatest treasures. I have spent enough time here to confidently call them trophies.

I remember every crack in this road; every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings that aspire to perfection in their height and flawless geometry. Echoes of a past that roared through this street half a century ago still hide within the minor imperfections of seemingly repaired walls. I vividly recall how this alley was cleared of fallen concrete blocks from the tower. I know well that at the intersection of two houses, in the very corner, lies a modest meter of granite cobblestones that cracked on that very day and was left unreplaced due to the inaccessibility of that nook. The new road looks splendid. These streets live their lives, their bright present, yet unobtrusively remind us of their past.

A musician by the entrance of a small shop is as old as the world itself. He was old when we were young, and he has played the same songs all his life. Their tender melodies have become part of my own consciousness; they cling to my mind so that I hear this music even on days when the old man with the weathered banjo does not come out to play. Strolling down this street always feels serene, almost perfect.

This path, starting from my own doorstep and ending at the gates of the Academy, I could traverse with my eyes closed, never stumbling once. This road is the least of what one can learn over more than fifty years of relentless repetition. Whether it rains or shines makes no difference, I will never lose my way here. It seems that even if all the cobblestones were shattered to pieces, I would still be able to walk blindfolded. All these paths have been explored back and forth, and the only thing that changes here each day is the faces of people. Countless happy and sorrowful, young and old, in love and lonely. Some faces I do not recognize, but many — mostly those of children — seem very familiar to me. I knew their parents as children when we were young. These beautifully diverse people! I look at them with the same thoughts.

Of all the fears available to them, which seems the most dreadful? A girl bitten by a stray dog now fears dogs. A heartbroken lover, since being left behind, will fear trusting others again. Meanwhile, the greatest fear of all is missing something. Every crack in this road. The pattern of peeling paint on building corners. The nagging thought gnawing at the weary mind of a dear one. Failing to notice it once can suddenly reveal that this thought can no longer be extracted from someone else’s head. Indeed, that head has become entirely foreign; it is the very head you manage to memorize along with every strand falling onto the pillow in a shared bed. The face becomes unfamiliar too. The gaze changes. As it reaches a fever pitch, that insistent thought hits its limit and becomes the sole source of movement. And how can one abandon it when moving has become so arduous?

Life goes on. The city has healed and forgiven all its offenders. It has not reproached anyone for its sorrow and has grown anew upon its own ruins. How disheartening it is that people cannot do the same.

My body has renewed itself thousands of times since it all happened, yet with each new gray hair and thread of wrinkle, I feel as though the past refuses to let me go.

Thousands of nights help to coexist with the past, but they do not allow for complete reconciliation. My mind was not mathematically inclined, and even after all these years, I am unable to approach the solution to the mysterious formula. The formula according to which that intrusive thought should have resolved itself in someone else's head. Perhaps it all comes down to the nature of the mind.

I turn around at the quiet thud almost automatically, no matter where in the city it echoes. An old man, bent under the weight of years, walks alongside me. Unable to discern the sound of his footsteps, I distinctly hear the rhythmic tapping of the metal tip of his cane.

The most understandable and sweet sound in the world.

Intermingling with the soft, creaky voice of a musician and his battered banjo, this thud itches somewhere deep in my chest. It is a melody from a long-gone past when both we and this city were still young. And if the city can still proudly stretch its countless concrete backs into a stately posture, I can no longer straighten my old shoulders. Side by side with this giant, we have been stretching in different directions over the years: the city upwards, and I towards the ground. We know each other better than anyone else. I greet every crack in this road and every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings; and in return, the city greets me with a symphony of the most familiar sounds. It knows me well.

The shortest route to the Academy lies through the old market. Long ago, it was built perfectly: bright stalls, resembling one another and always impeccably clean, stood in neat rows without any garish variety. Many years ago, this city would not have tolerated excessive diversity even in its trading rows, and now there is a delightful fair every day. Small imperfections have given this place a special charm, visible in the colorful flags on now so different stalls and the great variety of goods from two cities. It is no longer necessary to display products in straight lines. It is not essential to adhere to the strict color palette of the city. And it is these inaccuracies that have infused the place with life.

As I walk along the very edge of the fair, not diving into the crowd, I habitually stop next to a stall where bags of nuts are displayed at face level. I lower my dry palm into the pistachios. I pick one up. Bringing it closer to my face, I squint. With age, my vision has become quite cloudy. This can be reconciled with when you know the city by heart, but some things still deserve to be examined thoroughly for the tenth or even hundredth time.

In a crack of the pale shell, a green side of an aromatic kernel has appeared. Without this crack, this little charming imperfection, would the bright nut be visible?

I still do not understand how I failed to notice it at first glance. Sometimes it seems that time has lost its count; my time is also nearing its end, and yet I cannot grasp so many things. When you are very young, it feels as if just a little longer and all the complexities of the world will become clear, that this understanding will inevitably come with age and experience. And here I am, already over seventy, still as bewildered as I was at twenty. And the morning is just as it was at twenty.

Crossing the gates of the Academy for the thousandth time, I do not hurry to enter the building. Not far from the entrance, a pedestal with tall, proud statues has recently emerged. I stand before them feeling quite small and catch myself thinking that now I truly feel tiny.

— Beautiful, isn’t it?. — A voice sounds behind me, and I don’t need to turn around. The hoarse yet lively voice brings me back to my senses. I merely shrug. — You don’t like it?

— You know better how monuments should look, Ekko. .

— Everyone decides for themselves what the monument should look like. — He concludes, standing very close and politely offering his elbow. — Really, Miss Dean, what don’t you like? Indeed, a cane and stoop are not the best epithets for a statue; that’s why they weren’t included.

I shrug again. He is the only person who speaks to me about these things as if nothing has happened. And he is the only one I am grateful to for it.

— It’s not about the cane.

— Then what is it?

The empty gaze of the statue looks into the distance, at the rooftops of the city. I don’t remember exactly, but his gaze must have looked the same way.

I never think about it at all. Never. I am deeply concerned only with the details of this city. Why should I remember anything else? And yet…

— Not a single mole on its face. There should be two, actually.

Ekko is silent, then he pats me on the shoulder. If I had retained my youthful boldness, I would lament this. He used to pat me on the shoulder with a lively cheer, as if teasing; now these comforting gestures do not touch me.

— Forgive the sculptors their little inaccuracy.

The city forgives everything.

— Beautiful work. The Academy was missing something monumental. Besides the huge building, there should have been something to make this place breathe.

Ekko leaves. He is not interested in long, candid conversations where one must piece together some deeper meaning bit by bit. He fears touching on certain things not so much out of a desire not to offend but out of fear of stirring something in his own soul.

Meanwhile, reminders are everywhere. The city keeps its imperfections just for people like him. Every crack in the road. Every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings.

The city tries to drive me into the Academy’s lecture hall with the booming sound of a bell, promising the start of classes. This ringing hasn’t changed for what seems like hundreds of years. It rang before us, rang when we were young, rings now, and will ring for many more years to come. This metal is not afraid of death or oblivion.

Tearing my gaze from the statue, I turn it back to the road that has been our path for so many years and now lies only before me.

The same melody still plays on. A musician by the entrance of a small shop is as old as the world itself. He was old when we were young, and he has played the same songs all his life. Their tender melodies have become part of my own consciousness; they cling to my mind so that I hear this music even on days when the old man with the weathered banjo does not come out to play. Strolling down this street always feels serene, almost perfect. It just lacks one small imperfection: the quiet tapping of a cane.

While the soft voice of the banjo hums in my mind, my legs lead me into the lecture hall. Hundreds of young faces, whose joys and sorrows this city will witness more than once, greet me with calm anticipation.

“Good morning, Dean…,” “Dear Dean…, I’d like to consult you about my new project…,” “Dean…, what if…»

Hundreds of voices hush as my bent silhouette stands at the lectern.

— May I have your attention. The materials for today’s lecture are not included in the late edition of the history manual. Everything you hear from now on will not be on the exam, so if you are not paying attention to the topic, there will be no consequences.

The lights in the lecture hall dim. A student sets up the projector, and with a gentle press on the metal lever behind me, a pale portrait blooms to life. With two beautiful moles on its face.

— Write down the topic.

“The Final Glorious Evolution.”