#( spent six hours on one reply & do i regret it ? )

[techniiciian]

owo/

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape Pt.7 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Abandonment, Secrecy, Angst, Not Edited

Word Count: 5.8k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The vote is incredibly close so I figured I would just go for it and split it up for you guys that voted for the 2 part split. The final part before the epilogue will be up in a few days, it's still a work in progress.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six

“Hey.” Charlottes voice comes softly from behind you.

You’re sat out on the balcony attached to your room, grateful for the fresh air. You still haven’t left your room and the sun is beginning to set. Miles brought you a snack earlier in the day, still insisting that you eat but thankfully not pushing you on any details as to what happened with Lewis, he knows if you want to tell him you will, or Lewis already has and  he doesn’t want to make you upset.

“Hey.” You reply weakly, thoroughly drained from the last week, hell just the last few days.

She takes a seat next to you, placing a haphazardly prepared charcuterie board next to you, paired with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Charlotte has a knack for knowing what you need, and right now it’s some carbs and girl talk, even if that girl talk is a heart wrenching decision that has created world war three in your head.

“I figured you could use a little chat, you’ve been hold up in here for the entire day.” She says, a kind smile on her face as she uses the corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, not waiting for an answer.

All you can do is give her a grateful smile, not sure what to say as your brain continues to race.

“So, tell me everything that's going on in that mind of yours, nothing leaves this balcony.” She tells you, curling up in the lounge chair next to you as she pours the both of you a glass of wine.

“I don’t even know what’s going on to be completely honest.” You say, still keeping your gaze out over the ocean view.

“Well, how did your chat with Lewis go?” She prompts you.

“You haven’t talked to him?” You ask, finally looking over at her, rather surprised.

“No,” She shakes her head, “he talked to you, spent like four hours in his room, and then left. He still hasn’t come home.”

“Really?” You say, slightly shocked. You have never known him to disappear quite so frequently and it worries you that maybe he’s regretting your conversation from earlier, maybe he’s feeling like he shouldn't have been quite so honest.

“Well he said he was going to see Marina.” Charlotte says cautiously, still unsure of exactly what was talked about.

“Oh.” Is all you can say, still a million questions about what it is that is truly going on with them.

“I don’t know what you know exactly, but they’re truly just incredibly good friends.” Charlotte assures you.

“So you don’t know any of what Lewis said to me?” You ask, still unsure of the direction this conversation is going.

“Well if he was smart, he told you how he feels about you, but after the last week I think we can all confidently say that he’s not as smart as we would like to think he is.” She says, a sympathetic yet knowing look on her face.

“Charlotte,” You start, wanting to unload finally, she nods for you to continue, “he told me that he wants to do this with me. Like he wants me to be his girlfriend. He wants to try being in a relationship together.”

The second the words leave your mouth Charlotte has jumped up, her wine sloshing out of her cup, “Oh thank the good lord!” She exclaims.

You look at her, eyebrows high in the sky, not expecting that as a reaction.

“Sorry, sorry, not the time.” She says, settling back into her seat, aiming her attention back towards you, “Regardless of how happy I am that he finally got the balls to tell you, how do you feel?”

“So fucking confused.” You tell her honestly, shaking your head as you once again look out to the coast in front of you, just hoping to get lost in it, let the tide take your thoughts away with it.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte questions, evidently more over the moon about his admission than you are.

“I just- it's everything I thought I wanted…” You trail off.

“Yeah? And?” Charlotte pushes you.

“Char, what if it doesn’t work out?” You ask her, finally looking at her with a sorrowful gaze.

“Oh hun, you know, no matter what, you’re stuck with all of us for life.” She says, reaching out to squeeze your arm.

“No offense but it’s not particularly you and Miles that I’m worried about. By the way Miles told me he almost punched Lewis last night?” You tell her, realizing you don’t have the full story about what really went down.

“Oh my god, yeah, so I told Miles a much less graphic version of what you told me about your… encounter with Lewis, and I told him a little bit about how you felt about it and, oh my god, Miles saw fucking red,” She pauses, stopping herself from laughing, “I’m sorry, it’s not funny, and it wasn’t in the moment but, my god, if you could have seen their faces. Lewis was so unsuspecting. Miles and I had been out on the back deck, he was so confused about everything and then when I filled him in he just sprung into action. Lewis was off in the kitchen brooding with a glass of whiskey or something and all the sudden Miles came hurdling through the doors, all muttering under his breath about how Lewis was a ‘piece of shit’ and ‘he was gonna find out what the fuck happens when you fuck with Y/N’, Lewis literally never saw it coming. Miles had him pinned up against the fridge before I could get him to calm down, I think the adrenaline and testosterone were running a bit too high.”

“Jesus Christ, he didn’t tell me all that.” You mutter.

“Anyway, what is it that you’re worried about, you’ve got us for life hun.” Charlotte says, finally coming back to the original conversation at hand.

“It’s not you guys I’m worried about, I feel pretty confident after the last few days that I’m never going to lose you guys,” You sigh, not wanting to speak what feels inevitable into existence, “I’m worried that I’m going to give into Lewis, have a few good months, and then lose him… for good.”

Charlotte stays quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in.

“First of all, just know, whatever you decide, you’ve got at the very, very least Miles and I behind you, we’ve got your back. Whether that’s helping you figure out a different path of friendship with Lewis, not having Lewis around, or keeping him in check in your newfound relationship.” Charlotte pauses for a moment, almost as if she’s contemplating if she should say the next bit, “But I also want you to know, from someone who has been incredibly close with Lewis for about a decade, I’ve only seen him feel this way about one other person, and to be completely honest, even though it didn’t work out, they’re still on good terms. Y/N… Miles and I have tried endless times to get him to try and meet someone… We’ve set him up on blind dates, tried to scout people out at clubs, fuck, we’ve introduced him to random friends of ours.” She pauses again, noticing the questioning look on your face, “No, that’s not why I introduced you guys, absolutely not. I like you too much to put you in that position.”

“Then why are you rooting for it now?” You ask, calling out the contradiction.

“Because, when I initially introduced you guys, I just wanted you to be friends, even just get along at the very least. Everything that he feels for you has come from his own experiences with you, it’s not contrived. It’s been a decade since I saw him have a true, human, emotional, romantic connection with someone. It may not seem like it, but him even admitting it to you is a big step on his part.” Charlotte explains, her words sounding beyond sincere, you can tell she’s hoping that you’re fully taking them in.

“How did the last time end?” You ask, unsure of yourself, not knowing if it’s really appropriate to be asking her something so personal about Lewis, especially because he’s never mentioned it himself.

“They dated off and on for a few years, they really liked each other but they wanted incredibly different things in life…” She shrugs before continuing, “We could all tell he had liked her more than anything we’d ever seen from him, but it was kinda toxic, they would break up, not speak, and then two months later she would be at a ‘family’ dinner or trip. We liked her, they supported each other but they were on massively different timelines and he wasn’t ready for what she wanted. It took him a long time to get over it, he would talk about her all the time, lurk on her social media, and then all the sudden he just hardened. He announced to not only us, but the whole fucking world, that he was swearing off true relationships and commitment to focus on his career. He hasn’t shown any attachment to anyone since then.”

“So why the fuck did that suddenly change?” You ask, not necessarily to Charlotte but more to the universe, hoping for some sort of guiding light, maybe even a shooting star,

“If it did, I would say it’s because it’s really true. He’s talked before about how he may have liked some hookup more than another one, but he’s never dwelled on it, much less told the girl.” Charlotte answers

“Then why the hell did he tell me? Why not just let it pass like all the others?” You ask, rather exasperated.

“Did you ask him that?” Charlotte replies, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Yes.” You mutter

“And what did he say?” Her voice holds a knowing tone, waiting for a response she already knows the answer to.

“He said he tried.” You say under your breath, like a kid trying not to admit that they’re in the wrong.

“Y/N, if Lewis tried and failed, that means it’s bigger than his abilities, and we both know his abilities reach far beyond the average human. I’m pretty sure I know when it all shifted for him, even if he doesn’t, and if it’s been as long as I think it has, he has no power on getting rid of those feelings, he would have by now if he really wanted to.” Charlotte says softly, almost as if she’s trying to break the news to you.

“When do you think it shifted?” You ask, ignoring everything else she just said, focusing in on the part you're most curious about.

Charlotte pauses for a moment, taking a sip of her wine

“Do you remember the first Grand Prix you came to?” She asks

You nod, it being ingrained in your memory for the rest of your life.

“You guys had known each other for only a little while at that point, I know you guys talked and kept in touch, but it was the first time you’d seen each other in a bit,” Charlotte paused as you took a large swig of your wine, if she was right his feeling had been around even longer than he had cared to admit, much more than sometime in the last year, “he won that race and the second he saw you his face lit up, he looked happier to see you than he was that he was on the podium. He looked at you like you were the best trophy in the world. I don’t know if you noticed, but ever since that night, he has kept you by his side as much as possible, he became more protective of you than even Miles, and that’s saying a lot. Y/N that’s when the heavy flirting started. Everything shifted that day, I don’t think he even really realizes that that's when it happened.”

You take in what she’s saying, thinking back to that day, something you think about frequently without the thought of Lewis’ feelings for you

-

“Holy shit! Lewis! Congratulations!” You say to him as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you darling,” He chuckles slightly, “M’sorry, I’m kinda disgusting right now.”

“I don’t care, that was amazing! Thank you so much for having me!” You exclaim, amazed that you got to see your racing idol complete such an amazing run.

“Absolutely anytime, you’re always welcome in this garage,” He says, still grasping you tightly, “Want you here more often, so glad you came.”

The second he lets you go you can’t help but notice that you were the first person he greeted. Now moving his way over toward your other friends that you had come with.

“Amazing drive, bruv.” Miles pats him on the back, evidently proud of his best friend.

“Well apparently I have a new good luck charm.” Lewis states to the garage, pulling you under his sweaty, champagne soaked arm. He’s beaming as he looks down at you and you can’t find a care in the world to pull away from him.

If you’re his new good luck charm, so be it.

-

“So what the hell do I do Char’?” You ask, letting out a defeated sigh.

“Well, what do you want to do?” She asks, not giving you the advice you so desperately seeked.

“I don’t know.” You groan, your head turning once again to the coast in front of you

“What do you have to lose?” Charlotte shrugs, as if it's the easiest question in the world.

“Lewis… I have Lewis to lose.” You sigh, not wanting to even think of the possibility.

“Okay, I wasn’t there for the conversation, but do you feel like he’s serious? Do you feel like he’s truly all in this with you?” Charlotte asks, genuinely prying

“I want to believe him,” You say, shoulders drooping, “but I know him, I’ve seen how he operates. Maybe he wants this right now but what if he gets bored?”

“Understandable, but in his defense, I’ve never seen him operate quite like this.” Charlotte reasons.

“What, you’ve never seen him fuck up quite this badly and then drop an emotional nuclear bomb?” You almost want to laugh as the words leave your mouth.

“Well, no, I haven’t seen this,” Charlotte chuckles, “but I’ve also never seen him actually tell someone he likes them, or that he wants more than a casual fuck.”

You don’t respond, just continue to stare out at the beautiful coastline in front of you. You and Charlotte sit in silence for a while, she seems to understand that you’re processing a lot.

“Hun, if you need to talk, you know where I am. Maybe a bad choice but I’ll leave the bottle of wine with you.” She laughs towards the end of her sentence.

“Thank you.” Is all you can say

“My advice? Just give it a chance, you may be pleasantly surprised.” That’s the last thing she says before she makes her way off you balcony and out of your room

….

You once again don't know what time it is as you lay staring at your ceiling, a whole new battle to fight with your emotions. It’s not until a soft knock pulls you out of your thoughts do you even really know where you are.

“Hey,” Lewis has poked his head around your door, evidently fully dressed and showered, “can I take you somewhere in like an hour?”

You want to say no, you feel like it's a horrible idea, yet you find yourself nodding your head and getting yourself up to shower.

It’s not long before you find yourself in the passenger seat of his car. He still hasn’t turned on the ignition, as if he’s waiting for something.

“So, where are we supposed to be going?” You ask, trying to get any information out of him.

He pauses, staring at the steering wheel, “About seven years ago my cousin met this woman, they dated for less than a year and then they found out she was pregnant.” He stops, evidently gathering himself before continuing.

You just stare at him, unsure where this story could be going.

“They got married while she was still about six or seven months pregnant, he stuck around for the pregnancy, but it became pretty clear, pretty quickly he didn’t actually want to be a dad. He was around for maybe five months of his son's life. My cousin ended up completely leaving them, no divorce, no money, just left them in the middle of the night, he fell off the face of the earth. No one has seen or heard from him since. He was never a great guy, but she was always an amazing woman. We hoped maybe she had helped him clean up, get his life in order, she obviously hadn't been able to, not that it was her job to. He always hated me because I refused to give him money, the few times I did it all went to stupid scams or he gambled it away, so I stopped.” Lewis pauses, still staring at the steering wheel of his car, “A lot of my family immediately cut ties with her, they thought the baby was a bastard from the beginning and I guess they couldn’t look past that. She lived far away from them and I guess they felt she was just a loss cause, she was a single mother working in a bar. The few people that tried to stay in touch with her eventually failed, they just gave up, they wrote my cousin off so they wrote her off too. I was the only one that continued to check on her. She and I had always had a good bond, but it got even closer when my cousin left her, he left her with nothing. Since he left her I have tried to do my best to make sure she has everything she could possibly need, a safe car, make sure Leon, her son, is in a safe school, make sure she can pay rent, get groceries, anything she needs, I’ve done as much as possible to take care of them. I send her money every month, my family doesn't know, only Charlotte, and now you. Her son, Leon, he knows me as Uncle Lew, I’m really the only bit of a father figure he has around. I just want to make sure they’re always okay, I love them, and my family left them in shambles.”

You don’t know quite how to respond to the story, you can only assume this is who he was talking about with Charlotte the other night. It doesn’t take long for him to confirm your suspicions.

“I want you to meet Marina, the only person as important in my life as you are.” He finally looks at you, staring for a long moment before taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” You say just above a whisper as you lean over and squeeze his arm. You can see in his eye’s how much the story pains him and it makes your heart ache, not only for him but for Marina and her little boy.

The drive doesn’t take very long, maybe fifteen minutes. He stays quiet the entire time, occasionally glancing over to you in the passenger seat. The silence isn’t uncomfortable but it’s definitely weighted, carrying a million emotions that much to your surprise you are perfectly content with sitting in, almost needing it to process what is going through your mind. The house he pulls up in front of is small but in an endearing way. You can tell it’s well taken care of, the front yard nicely manicured with beautiful gardens surrounding the house. There’s a small front porch and the house doesn’t look like it could be more than two bedrooms large.

“Them being here is why I like this island so much,” Lewis finally breaks the silence as he stops the car, “I offered to help her move to the states or to the UK but she was quite intent on Leon growing up here. I rarely get to see them, so when I have time off I like to come here, spend time with Leon.”

“That’s lovely Lewis.” You say reaching out to place your hand over his on top of the stick shift.

He looks nervous, and you can understand why, he’s putting a lot of trust in you. He smiles at you warmly before moving to step out of the car. By the time you have unbuckled he has already made his way around the car, opening your door for you, a common occurrence with him. You take his outstretched hand, helping you out of the low car. He doesn’t move to pull away, keeping a firm grip on your hand, and you let him, hoping to ground him in some way. You walk hand in hand towards the porch as the front door swings open.

“Ah my dear!” The woman who is now on the porch exclaims. You recognize her as the bartender Lewis was talking with the other night, Marina.

Before Lewis can even respond a young boy is running out of the door behind her, yelling as he does, “Uncle Lew, Uncle Lew!”

This is when Lewis finally disconnects your hands, leaning down to the boy who has just about crashed into him, to wrap him in a hug.

“Hey buddy.” Lewis has a large smile on his face as he laughs at the boy's enthusiasm.

You watch on, unsure of what to do, but enjoying seeing Lewis like this. You have seen him interact with children before, his nieces and nephews, little fans, but there seems to be a certain fondness for this little boy. As he straightens up, the little boy just barely removing himself from Lewis, he looks toward you, beckoning for you to come closer to him. He places his large hand on your back, you can feel the warmth of it through your shirt.

“Marina, I would like to introduce you to the woman I was telling you about the other night,” He smiles at Marina before looking back toward you, a warm fond look to his eyes, “this is Y/N.”

“Oh hello my dear, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you.” Marina greets you excitedly, pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“Y/N, this is Marina.” Lewis chuckles from beside you, well aware you weren’t anticipating such enthusiasm.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You smile as you pull away.

You look toward Lewis to see him squatting down next to the little boy.

“Hey buddy, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” His voice is soft and sweet, making your heart melt, “can you say hi to my friend Y/N?”

“Hi Y/N.” The little boy says shyly, almost trying to hide behind Lewis.

Lewis looks up to you, a smile on his face, “Y/N, this is my buddy Leon.”

You squat down to match the boy's height the same way Lewis has, extending your hand out to the boy, “Hi Leon, it’s very lovely to meet you.”

“It’s okay.” Lewis whispers softly to Leon, rubbing his back, as he looks timidly at your hand.

Very carefully he reaches out and just barely grabs your hand, you shake it gently with a smile before letting go, that seeming like more than enough for the shy kid.

“Come inside, I have drinks and snacks.” Marina says, ushering everyone into her home.

The home is just as sweet on the inside as it is on the outside, the living room feels homey with a brightly patterned couch and a small coffee table, toys scattered everywhere. Just behind the living room is a small kitchen, a round table in the middle of it. Marina directs you into the kitchen, you and Lewis both taking a seat where she has all sorts of snacks and a pitcher of lemonade laid out. It doesn’t take long before Leon has run up next to Lewis, a toy in his hand. Lewis pushes his chair away from the table just enough so he can pick Leon up and place him in his lap, playfully groaning as he does so.

“You’re getting big lil man,” He laughs before flexing his arm up next to him, “big and strong.”

“Just like Uncle Lew!” Leon says excitedly, bouncing in Lewis’ lap.

Lewis laughs, tickling the kid's sides, making the boy squeal in laughter. Marina is sitting across from you, looking on at the scene with fond eyes, evidently pleased to see her little boy so happy. Lewis quickly becomes engrossed in conversation with Leon, listening intently as the boy shows him all the things he can do with his superhero action figure.

You turn towards Marina, “He seems like a really sweet kid.”

“He is, he’s pretty shy but he’s very excitable too.” She chuckles, giving you a warm smile.

You notice Leon getting down from Lewis’ lap, attempting to pull him towards the living room.

“Hang on buddy, I’m gonna stay here with your Mom and Y/N for a little bit, we can play afterwards.” Lewis tries to explain.

Leon evidently doesn’t appreciate that answer and you can’t help but feel for the kid. Everyone wants Lewis’ attention, you get it. You look toward Lewis, mouthing “It's okay.” leaving the decision up to him. He gives you a look of “you sure?”, leaving you to nod before he follows after the little boy who is very pleased with his win. You and Marina watch as Lewis settles on the floor with the little boy who is taking out little F1 model cars, something you’re almost positive Lewis gifted to him.

“You seem really good for him, you know?” Marina says, snapping you out of your admiration of the man.

“Pardon?” You can’t help but be a little confused.

“He talks about you quite a bit, whether he realizes it or not. I’ve been wondering when I would get to meet you.” She smiles.

You’re still a bit confused, surprised he’s mentioned you so much.

“It wasn’t until this past week that I really realized how serious it was, but he’s very fond of you.” She continues.

“Oh, we aren’t together.” You clarify. Yet, you think to yourself

“I know, it doesn't mean he can’t still love you. He’s a good man, you’d be lucky to have him.” Marina says.

Your stomach flips at the mention of him loving you. You love him too, you always have, but you wonder if she means in a different way.

“He is an incredible man.” You agree, leaving it at that.

“C’mere.” Lewis calls over to you, beckoning his head for you to come sit with them.

Marina nods towards you, telling you to head over to the boys.

“You know who else could name all the parts of the car?” Lewis asks Leon, who looks almost amazed that there might be someone other than Lewis who could do it, “This lady right here.” He points his thumb towards you as you sit down next to him.

“Well I wouldn’t go that far.” You laugh, amused by his over confidence in you.

“Oh I bet you could get pretty close darling.” Lewis smirks at you, almost daring you.

Within seconds Leon is handing you a small Mercedes replica, urging you to do it. You go through as many parts as possible, pointing them out to the little boy, Lewis correcting your terminology here and there. It seems that that is all it takes for Leon to decide that you’re okay. Almost immediately you’re being handed toys and instructed on how to play with them, Leons attention is mainly on you now, Lewis watching you two with a content smile. You see him and Marina exchange a look of absolute happiness, both enjoying how comfortable the little boy is. The three of you play for over an hour before Lewis is glancing at his watch, realizing how much time has passed. 

He leans it toward you, his voice quiet, “We should probably head out soon, I got signed up for dinner duty and I want to get at least a run in beforehand.”

“Okay, whatever works for you.” You smile, your voice just as quiet.

You play with Leon for a little while longer before Lewis is announcing that you two need to head out. You can tell Leon is disappointed but Lewis calms him, telling him he’ll see him again before he leaves the island. Leon seems content with that, ignoring the two of you as you make your way to say your farewells to Marina. She gives Lewis a tight hug, whispering something to him as she does. You see him nod with a smile, glancing at you, making you shift on your feet. She comes over to you next.

“It was so so nice to finally meet you, I hope I see you again soon.” She says, pulling you into your own tight hug. This time you’re expecting it, being able to reciprocate it much better.

“It was lovely to meet you as well, I agree I hope to see you again.” You say, meaning it very much, she seems like a lovely woman, you wouldn't expect anything less if Lewis cares so deeply for her.

As she walks you to the door, you stop and wave down at Leon where he’s playing, “It was nice to meet you Leon, have fun with your toys!”

“Bye bye.” He says, waving at you, the action making all three of you chuckle.

Once you say your final goodbyes you make your way back to Lewis’ car, him opening your door for you once again. Once he’s seated in the driver's seat he takes a moment, looking over at you with such a fondness you feel like you could explode.

“Thank you for doing that with me.” He says, his voice incredibly sincere.

“Of course, they were lovely,” You start, offering him a warm smile, “thank you for trusting me with them.”

“Always, I trust you more than anything.” He says, licking his lips before letting out a deep breath. Something he seems to be doing a lot recently, you worry he’s getting too tense, too much inside his head.

The drive back home is quiet once again, that is until Lewis speaks up.

“Marina really liked you by the way.” He tells you, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he shifts gears.

“I barely spoke to her,” You laugh, “but I’m glad, she seems like a wonderful woman. I liked her too.”

“She’s a good judge of character, she saw how you were with Leon and I think that’s more than enough for her. Or I guess really how Leon was with you, he’s not usually that comfortable with new people.” He explains.

“Well maybe he just trusts Uncle Lews judgment.” You say, lightly teasing him.

Lewis just laughs, shrugging, “Smart boy, what can I say?”

You once again fall into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's presence uninterrupted for what feels like the first time your entire vacation. When you arrive home, Charlotte is in the kitchen, doing dishes. Lewis comes up behind you, his hand on your back.

“I’m gonna go get a run in and then I’ll be back to start dinner.” He says softly in your ear before making his way down to his room, seemingly trying to avoid Charlotte for some reason.

When she turns to you and sees that he’s already disappeared she laughs, shaking her head.

“I think he’s avoiding me.” She shrugs, not explaining why, you don’t pry knowing that she’s also keeping your secrets.

You just laugh, grabbing yourself a glass of water.

“So where did you two go off to?” She asks, raising a brow at you.

“Um,” You start, not sure if he would want her to explicitly know, “we went to visit a friend of his.”

“Holy shit.” Charlotte whisper shouts, looking over her shoulder briefly, “He introduced you to Marina?”

You just nod, trying to contain your smile.

“Y/N, I’ve only met her by accident, none of our friends even know she exists and he brought you to meet her?” Charlotte looks baffled and excited all at once. 

“Yeah, he asked me this morning, he told me the story,” You pause for a moment, taking in just how big of a deal this is, “I got to meet Leon.”

“Oh my god, isn’t he adorable? Lewis shows me photos sometimes and my god that kid is cute.” She gets slightly sidetracked, gushing over the child.

“He’s so sweet.” You tell her.

“But holy crap, he told you the story and everything?” Charlotte seems impressed that Lewis opened up so much.

You nod, not even really sure what to say. Before you can think of how to respond Lewis reappears in the kitchen, shirtless with a pair of running shorts on. By the look on his face he can tell that you told Charlotte and that he doesn’t plan on sticking around for a game of twenty questions.

“I’m off.” He simply says, putting up a peace sign before jogging to the door.

Charlotte stares at his back, her eyebrows raised high, before turning back to you.

“He evidently trusts you Y/N.” She says, surprisingly leaving it at that, changing the subject as she moves on to fill you in on how Daniel almost got stuck in a tree while trying to take a picture while the two of you were away.

You stay and chat with her for a while as you help her clean up the kitchen. You end up deciding to go take a shower before dinner, getting into more comfortable clothes. As you stand under the stream of water you think back to the conversation you had overheard with Charlotte and Lewis. You remember Lewis saying that he hadn’t told Marina that he was coming to the island because he knew he wouldn’t be able to see her with Talia around. That he didn’t want to introduce Leon to someone like that that wouldn’t be around. It makes your heart clench, him introducing you to them has solidified many things. Not only does it show how much he trusts you, but that regardless of what you choose with him, you’re going to be in his life for some time to come. Enough time that he felt comfortable introducing you to the little boy that he protects with everything in him. In that moment, staring at the tiled wall ahead of you, you decide. You can’t risk losing Lewis.

[povbeth]

six roses | percabeth (0)

series masterlist

chapter summary: it's been two years since percy left town (read: annabeth), and neither of them can stop thinking about each other.

wc: 2.8K

warnings: it's just a lot of emotional constipation and regret and sadness and- [car crashes into me]

a/n: hellooooo :p honestly don't know what i'm doing bc nobody posts percabeth fanfic on tumblr but guess what? i do! i've been wanting to do a series like this for a while so i'm glad i'm finally getting started on it. lmk what you think here!

also posted on ao3

prologue: thinking about you.

Grover has been watching Annabeth lose herself for the last few hours. 

Had she known, Annabeth would argue that Grover does this every morning. But today doesn’t follow their normal routine. The two canceled their shift at work for the next morning and took an early leave to prepare. Instead of locking her bedroom door and rotting in bed, Annabeth hobbled over to her best friend's house for a night with no sleep and a bag full of candy, ready to binge watch Disney classics till the sun peeks through the windows. 

It’s an annual event, one that follows a 10 year tradition; One the same day every year, Annabeth and Grover have a sleepover, in which they total approximately two hours of sleep and six hours of movies. 

It’s supposed to be fun, and Annabeth does find it fun. But for the last two years, it’s been different. Tainted. Scarred. And Grover knows this, but will never say it out loud. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

He’ll make her say instead. 

She’s not surprised at the question. Really, it was inevitable. Grover knows what joy looks like, and he knows what a lack of it looks like on Annabeth. She could feel his eyes observing her as she stared at Lilo and Stitch without a single tear rolling down her cheek. He can always count on her to sing along with Gaston, but not a peep left her lips. He knows how emotional the Little Mermaid gets you, but he couldn’t hear a sniffle from her. 

She doesn’t bother turning her head to face him. She won’t let him see the silent tear trails on her face. “You already know.”

Does he ever wonder?

Does he ever wonder like I do?

About the memories he’s left behind on a whim, in the hopes for a dream that was miles away. Away from the town he’s been in since he could babble a few incoherent words, towards a city filled with unfamiliar faces Away from the town he can only remember by your name. 

About the memories that haunt her at night, but they swear they’re here to keep her at ease. They should be comforting, but they’re holding her tight enough to be suffocating. 

Maybe they’ll let her sleep tonight if she cries a bit. Just a teeny bit. 

Before she knows it, her eyes are teary. Grover feels her shift on the makeshift bed the two made on the ground. “You good?”

Nights spent on the phone talking about forever, an eternity that would only last a little over a year. Had the word stayed true to its meaning, she wouldn’t have hated it. Spending forever with him. She’d sigh and tell him this in hushed whispers as she’d lay in bed with her phone beside her pillow, and he’d giggle a bit. If she wasn’t too caught up with the idea of eternity with him, she would’ve realized that he’d never reply with confirmation. That he thinks about it too, that her idea of forever exists in the realm of possibility. 

Did he ever toy with forever like I had?

She doesn’t respond to the silent boy next to her, who waits for some kind of response. There’s a pile of memories clogged in her blue veins, and they choose tonight to flow properly. 

And so she does what she knows best. 

Lie. 

“I’m good.”

Her memories unravel themselves quickly. They’re only a few years old, but they’ve learned fast.  Really, they’re not evil in nature – sneaking out at one in the morning to see him at a park near her house, writing exclamations of love into his skin during class, holding his hand as he walks her home – but they’re sharp. Short strands, but they have an edge to them. They know where to poke her, where to prod, where to stab. Like shards of glass, meeting her chest with good aim. 

(But it doesn’t seem like an issue. She’d relive them in her head regardless of the pain.)

It doesn’t take Grover long to realize that she won’t say anything more than that. Instead of pushing for an answer, he lazily turns his body to face her. “I miss him too, y’know.”

And that’s what makes Annabeth break. 

Because it’s not just her – it’s Grover, her cousin, and more importantly, his best friend. The boy he’d known way before you, since the two were in pre-school, squalling nonsense that only made sense to them. Brothers who knew each other better than themselves (though Grover would argue that he never really knew him). 

Grover’s hurt too, and it makes everything hurt more. 

She’s sobbing before she knows it, staining her cheeks and pillow in the process. It’s an unmapped cry that escapes her, one that doesn’t sound like her. She tries to pin it on something – regret, distaste, sorrow – yet it doesn’t land quite right. Must be something ugly, something that can only exist in a person who’s come across Percy Jackson.

“It’s been two years,” she manages through the tears. “And I’m still feeling like this.”

“I know.” Grover comforts her. She’ll never know it, but the tears he holds back are only for her. 

“He doesn't even think about us. And I know he did it for himself, for his career, for his family, but it’s just… I don't know–”

“You feel greedy,” Grover tries to grasp. “for wanting him to stay–”

“No, that’s not it!” she barely recognizes the noise that’s coming out her throat. Is this what her memories have done? Turned her into a foreigner of her own voice? “That's not even what I wanted! I just – I just wanted him to tell me… and to tell you…”

…that he was leaving. Not that he didn’t – he did, just on the day of. 

That’s one memory that she can’t unravel. She doesn’t remember how her day started, or how the conversation came about. All she recalls is the moment he said, “I have to leave.”

The rest is a blur. She remembers looking at him incredulously, as if he was joking. She remembers arguing with him, angry at him for choosing to tell her now, when his ride to the big apple was an hour away. She remembers watching him leave, his shoulders slouched as he walked away from the ruins of their relationship. 

She wonders what remains of her now. In his mind, perhaps he only remembers a lousy town with a girl with perpetual mascara running down her face. Maybe he remembers her name, not her face. Maybe she’s a distant memory that he can’t bother to recall, not when he’s at the peak of his career. 

Years pass, and so do her emotions. Hatred has dissolved in her heart, but she’s sure she can build it back up if she wants to. She’s more understanding, that maybe it was for the best. Sure, she wishes he executed things better. But she gets it – Percy was a boy with dreams. And she, better than most people, should know what it means to reach for them. 

It means to sacrifice the things you love the most – and maybe, it was proof that he did love her, at least back then. If that were the case, she wishes that she wasn’t on the top of the list. 

Maybe nothing of her remains, and that’s what scares her the most. Especially when his everything is engraved in her. 

It’s been exactly two years since the day he left, yet the realization only settles in her bones now – she’s afraid that she’s worth nothing more than dust to the boy who once loved her from the sun and back. 

The truth is, Percy wonders too much.

His ‘friends,’ if that’s what he could call them, told him the night was still young. To be clear, it was an hour past midnight, and Percy just wanted to crash at his hotel room. 

To be even clearer, he didn’t know these guys well. He's seen a few of them in that new movie with vampires, and the others are fellow singers whose songs he’s heard far too many times. They smile on the red carpet, baring their fancy looks for the cameras, and wipe the smiles off their faces as soon as they take a step off it. He thinks it’s fair – he’s done the same today – but it doesn’t excuse them from being absolute assholes to everyone who isn’t an A-list celebrity. 

Of course, Percy doesn’t fit in the category of nobodies for them. He’s topping the charts with every new release and bagging every award he’s been nominated for. To the famous clique, he’s one of them, just haven’t been acquainted yet. 

So when Percy happened to have a table near theirs, they invited themselves over with a bottle of alcohol that he swears was not on the menu. 

Percy knew nobody besides Jason, his first friend in the industry, and his only friend at this event. He'd really been hoping that he and Jason could leave without anyone noticing. Like the incredible actor he was, his friend called Percy’s manager and convinced her that the two of them were actually feeling sick. 

“Never going to a gala again,” Jason groans as they enter the hotel lobby. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah,” Percy mumbles. “I just wanna crash right now.”

Percy has never been a man of many words, Jasons noticed. He’s still the shy boy from the small town, even when he has to smile at the paparazzi that followed him practically everywhere. But today in particular, Percy hasn’t been talking much.

Despite the obvious lack of words from the raven haired boy, Jason says nothing. Even as they head up the elevator, the two stand in silence. It’s comfortable, but it’s different from their usual fall of words. Percy’s eyes are closed, not in concentration, but in an exhaustion that Jason can’t seem to pinpoint. 

Jason doesn’t know anything about the town Percy left behind two years ago. He doesn’t know that today marks two years since he’s left it behind, and wouldn’t understand the weight that it holds, even if Percy were to tell him. 

He’s been wanting to ask if something is wrong for the past few hours, and so he finally does. He's not expecting much, but Percy looks at him as if he’s finally hit his tipping point. 

And that’s how Jason finds himself in Percy’s hotel room, having been dragged into the room by his older friend. He’s concerned, surprised by the sudden emotional act Percy’s put on. 

“It’s just…” he heaves as he sits down on his bed. “It's been a long day.”

An understatement at its finest. He knew what awaited him – beyond the gala, there was his family. Sure, they’ve been on good terms, great even, but the weight of his ticket back home seems to weigh the room down. There’s his friends from back home, whose texts pile up on his phone (which Percy ignores). 

And then there’s Annabeth. Clouding his thoughts before he woke up, appearing in his dreams and haunting him before he could take his first breath of the day. 

It’s a given, he thinks, knowing that he’s made peace with everything else back in town. His parents were always supportive, his friends came to understand. But there’s a distance of time and heart between Annabeth and him, and the fact that it’s tainted his perception of who she is now has him begging God to shrink him into nothing. 

So his day was rough. He can’t recall a moment where he didn’t feel an ache in his chest. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Percy fiddles with the bottom of his tie, rolling the material between his fingers. “well…”

He does, but the last thing he wants to do is say her name out loud. 

“It's been two years since I left my hometown,” he mumbles. It’s easier to say than I broke up with my girlfriend two years ago and haven’t gotten over it since. 

“I see.” Jason says, though he doesn’t really get it. He grew up in the city, and even though the two boys are practically the same, there’s a difference in experience between them. Where Percy grew up was vastly different from this place, so Jason tries to understand. “You miss it?”

“Mhm. I miss my parents, and…”

And Annabeth.

“There's something bugging you,” Jason notes with a frown on his face. “You can tell me, y’know. I won't judge.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you… it’s just complicated, I guess.”

“Well,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I'm all ears.”

Percy doesn’t know what to say. But since his friend’s standing there, leaning against his dresser and waiting for him to speak, he supposes he has to spit it out at some point. 

“Just… thinking about someone.”

“A girl?”

He goes silent for a second too long and Jason panics. “Oh, is it a guy–”

“No, no. It’s my girlfr– well, ex-girlfriend.”

He nods in sympathy. He’s never been in a relationship, but he can imagine how hard breakups can be. “Yhings were rough, I’m guessing?”

Nothing was rough, actually. Things were as perfect as they could possibly be. 

The two were enemies as kids. He remembers bits and pieces – young Annabeth kicking sand in his face, swearing that she’d never go close enough to catch cooties from him. 7-year-old Percy splashing water in her face (read: soaking her with a water bottle) and running away before she could tell his mom. Swore that they’d never be friends unless it rained cows. 

Except things didn’t go as planned; she ended up dating him through highschool, and he ended up leaving her at the end of it. 

“I guess you could say that. We broke up the day I left town.”

Percy doesn’t tell him that it was because of him, or that it happened right before he was leaving for the train station. He doesn’t mention how he was feeling blue for his first year here, and that even though it’s past one year, he feels sick at any memory of you. He doesn’t even say her name, because the weight of his guilt lays heavy on the vowels and it’s too much to bear. 

Instead, Percy does exactly what Jason wanted – unpack how he feels. He lets his feelings escape the lid, listens to them pour out without caring about how selfish he sounds, how terribly hoarse his voice is. 

Annabeth always seems to do this to him. A single memory of her has him feeling like he’s eighteen again. Every memory of that time leads to a dead end, and though a small part of him wishes he could forget her, his mind tends to run back to that time. 

It's incredibly stupid of him to miss her when he was the one who left. He knows this, but can’t help but indulge in the longing he feels. 

And by the time he’s done talking, there’s a box of tissues in his lap and Jason beside him, patting his back as if it could erase every bad emotion he’s feeling.

Jason’s at a loss for words. He didn’t know, but he feels like he should’ve. He should’ve connected the dots when he caught Percy reading old text messages a few days. He should’ve gotten the hint when he saw Percy standing next to another girl as if he was a stiff tree. He should’ve caught on to how his friend never liked to talk about relationships, excusing it as something he wasn’t interested in, despite his unrivaled passion for romcoms.

Percy loves torturing himself by thinking about Annabeth, but talking about her is the opposite – any mention of her seems to bring the mood down for not just him, but everyone around him. The weight of her name is so heavy, it’s a burden on anyone who knows your situation with him. 

It's especially terrible when your Annabeth is inscribed in his heart, his veins adorned with engravings of her. The vessels are shrinking under her load, pressing his chest and squeezing his throat. 

With every mention to Jason, her name escaping his lips makes the weight increase. 

It's been exactly two years since the day he left, yet his heart feels heavier than before. 

[fics-n-stuff]

And They Were Roommates

Pairing: Steve × Eddie

Summary: After moving in together, Steve and Eddie start to realise that they might like each other a little more than they had thought until one night, with the help of just a little weed, it all comes to a head.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Drug use (just weed)

A/N: I've had writers block for literally two years at this point it's so hard to just finish a fic. I have so many WIPS staring back at me every time I open google docs. If you like this fic I'm begging please let me know because I'm starting to doubt my writing ability 😭

Eddie was starting to regret moving in with Steve. He felt guilty about the fact, because Steve was the perfect housemate - he was clean and caring, respectful of boundaries and good company - but Eddie was struggling. Not because of anything that Steve had done wrong, honestly Eddie was unsure if Steve was capable of doing anything wrong, but because he did too many things right. Steve cooked dinner for them both when Eddie was too busy or too tired, he baked as a hobby so Eddie always had fresh treats to pack into his lunch, he always put Eddie's laundry in when he was doing a wash and sometimes even specifically did laundry because Eddie had let it pile up. He reminded Eddie to take his meds every day, used his employee discount to rent movies on the weekends, and never complained when Eddie spent hours playing his guitar.

Eddie was falling for Steve. He was falling hard.

They were coming up on six months of living together in their cozy little house when Eddie thought he might reach his breaking point. He had slept through his alarm and panicked, thinking that he was going to be late for work. He threw on his clothes, brushed his teeth and threw his hair up into the messiest bun he'd ever done, and was ready to race out the door.

"Don't forget your lunch!" Steve called from the kitchen, stopping Eddie on his way to the front door.

"Steve, I don't have time. I-" he cut himself off as he turned to see Steve appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, Eddie's old metal lunchbox in one hand and his thermos in the other. The thermos itself had been a gift from Steve after Eddie had complained one too many times about not having enough time to drink a proper amount of coffee in the morning (and refusing to wake up any earlier).

"I gathered." Steve smiled, and lifted his arms to hold Eddie's stuff out to him. "Don't worry, I got you."

"Uh, okay. Thanks, Stevie." Eddie said, awkwardly lurching forward to grab the stuff from his hands. 

"Did you take your meds?"

"Yeah, yes, I did. I'll, uh, see you tonight."

"See you tonight. Have a good day at work." Steve replied, before promptly disappearing back into the kitchen. Eddie took half a second to regather his thoughts, looking down at the lunchbox and thermos in his hands in mild disbelief, before quickly getting back on track and leaving for work.

When he sat down for his lunch break that day, coveralls pulled down and secured with the sleeves tied around his waist in an attempt to combat the heat in the shop, he found a post-it note stuck to the inside of the lid of his lunchbox. With an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, he plucked the note from the box and held it up to read.

Six months and this is the first time you've slept through your alarm. I'm shocked, Eds. Hope I packed you a decent lunch :)

Eddie smiled, his chest warm as he folded the note and tucked it back into the lunchbox. Steve had packed him a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, some carrot and celery sticks with hummus, and one of his homemade blueberry muffins. It was more thought than Eddie put into his own lunch most days, he usually just grabbed the first thing he saw in the fridge.

Eddie was falling for Steve because Steve took care of him. Eddie wasn't used to being taken care of like this. Eddie wasn't sure that he wanted to be taken care of if it meant feeling whatever it was that he was feeling for Steve. It didn't seem fair that he could fall so utterly head over heels without Steve even trying.

And Steve hadn't been trying. Not really. He took care of Eddie because he liked to, but also because it just made things easy. He did the laundry because he liked things to be clean, he reminded Eddie to take his meds because treating his ADHD made him less of a hurricane, he cooked and baked and rented movies because it was fun. Steve was good at taking care of people, he had a knack for it. All the things you had to do to take care of people came naturally to him.

Steve wasn't sure he'd made a better decision in his life than moving in with Eddie. He had stayed living at his parents' house for far too long and finally getting out of there gave him space to breathe.

Nancy had helped him find the house. Hawkins wasn't a town that exactly had apartment buildings; there were big houses, small houses and trailers. Nancy was the one who found it, a two bed one bath in a quiet part of town with decently low rent.

Steve had been the one to propose the idea to Eddie. Eddie, who was fine living with his uncle but was ready to be independent, and had recently secured a decent paying job at the auto shop in the next town over, had gone for the idea. And then they moved in together. And it was great. And Eddie was great. Suddenly, Steve realised that Eddie was so great. He was passionate and emotive and energetic, Steve loved to listen to him talk and loved to listen to him play guitar.

Every morning Steve got up and waited for Eddie to come crashing out of his bedroom. Every night he sat on the couch and waited for Eddie to burst through the front door. Every weekend he rented a movie or two so that he'd have an excuse to spend time with Eddie. And it was tough sharing a space with a person that he had become so enamoured with. But he wouldn't want it any other way. He liked reminding him to take his meds every day, and he liked gently nagging him to keep the place clean, and he liked the way he always smiled so wide when Steve cooked dinner or baked a fresh batch of sweet treats. Living with Eddie was perfect.

Steve was working the Friday night closing shift, so it was one of those days that Eddie actually got home first. He was hanging upside down off the couch watching TV when Steve kicked the front door shut and pulled off his jacket.

"Hey! Good day?" Steve called. Eddie hummed noncommittally in reply, haphazardly reaching into a bowl of chips that was sat on the floor and stuffing his mouth with some.

"You rent a movie?" He asked.

"Yeah, three of em." Steve nodded, kicking off his shoes in the entrance way before stepping into the living room. "You wanna watch one tonight?"

"Nah, let's save em for the weekend." 

"Okay. You eaten yet?"

"Nah." Eddie said, and paused slightly before continuing, "Wanna get high?"

"Sure, why not." Steve shrugged after a moment. "I'm not working tomorrow." Eddie flashed him a grin before turning himself right side up and making room for Steve on the couch. "You wanna order a pizza? I didn't prep anything and I don't wanna start cooking now."

"I'm always up for pizza, Harrington."

"Awesome. I'll order the food, you roll the joint."

"Perfect."

They both got up from the couch in unison, Steve heading to the draw by the phone where they kept all the takeout menus and Eddie heading to his room to retrieve his stash. They reunited by the back door five minutes later, pizza ordered and joint in hand.

"Two whole hours." Steve complained as Eddie lit up. "I will never get over it. I hate Friday and Saturday closing shifts, why the hell do we have to be open an extra two hours?"

"Because Friday and Saturday nights are when people wanna go get their movies." Eddie replied, smoke rising from his lips as he passed the joint to Steve.

"Yeah, well, I hate it."

"Yeah, I know." Eddie chuckled, used to hearing a version of this rant every time Steve worked a Friday or Saturday closing shift. "Hey, uh, thanks for packing my lunch today. But I think you might have done too good a job at it."

"Huh? What does that mean?" Steve questioned.

"The new guy at work, Freddie, he asked if my wife packed my lunch for me."

Steve choked halfway through an inhale, quickly passing the joint back to Eddie before he doubled over with his coughs. 

"Shit, sorry." He managed after a few seconds of coughing. "I, um… what did you say? Yaknow, when he said that."

"Uh, I laughed and then I told him the truth. I overslept and my housemate packed it, coz he's nice like that." Eddie smiled. He watched Steve to make sure that he was okay after his coughing fit and took an extra long pull of the joint. "He gave me a funny look, but he said it was sweet."

"What kind of funny look? Like a surprised funny look or a disgusted funny look?"

"I don't know. We were cool the rest of the day though." 

"Hm."

They smoked the rest of the joint in silence, finishing up just a little before the pizza arrived. Steve answered the door, paid the delivery boy and brought it back to the couch where Eddie had already melted into the cushions.

"You sure you don't want to watch one of the movies tonight? I rented Eraserhead just for you." Steve said. Eddie made a shocked wailing sound around the slice of pizza in his mouth and spun to face Steve.

"You rented a freaky scifi horror for me? And you plan on watching it with me?" He exclaimed.

"Well, we did also just get in our first copies of Top Gun and I was planning on making you watch that with me tomorrow so… it's more of a compensation." Steve replied with an amused smile.

"Deal." Eddie nodded enthusiastically, holding his hand out to Steve, who laughed as he shook it. "You wanna smoke another one? I'm thinking I could do with a bit more of a buzz."

"Not if you wanna watch Eraserhead tonight."

"Well, what's the third movie you got?"

"Airplane."

"Oh, we can definitely watch that stoned." Eddie grinned. "Come on, Stevie! Smoke another joint with me. I'll have most of it, promise!"

"Okay, fine!" Steve relented with a light laugh. "Go open the window and put on the movie."

"Yay!" Eddie cheered like a child, springing up from the sofa. He scurried to open up both of the nearby windows, retrieved the tape from Steve's bag that he'd left by the door and popping it into the VCR, and came back to the couch producing his little tin from his pocket.

"You know, you could just smoke on your own." Steve said.

"I could, but social smoking is better." Eddie argued, flipping his lighter in his hand and smiling around the joint between his lips. "And it's a good way to get you to chill out, you collect a lot of stress through the week." To punctuate his point, he plucked the joint from his mouth and held it to Steve's. Steve, whose hands were occupied with tearing apart two partly cut slices of pizza, parted his lips to accept the joint.

"I'm not that bad." He protested. "Go get your ashtray, we're not gonna be able to eat the pizza if we can't put down the joint."

"Yessir." Eddie chimed, rolling over the back of the couch like a chaos gremlin to go get the ashtray from his bedroom.

They ate their pizza and watched the movie, laughing a bit louder and a bit longer than was really necessary. Eddie rambled as they played rock paper scissors after the film ended, telling Steve about his day very overdramatically and not noticing how closely Steve was watching his every move. Steve was always quiet when he got high, which was the complete opposite of Eddie who somehow managed to talk even more when under the influence, so Eddie wasn't too off put by his lack of responses.

"I've got the munchies, what's in the kitchen?" Eddie asked, grabbing Steve's hand as he wrapped paper around rock.

"Hmm, not much." Steve mumbled in reply. "We've got some pretzels. There's the muffins, and the sugar cookies from last weekend." Eddie puffed his cheeks out and rocked backwards before leaning forward into Steve's space.

"I love living with a baker." He smiled dopily before quickly getting to his feet, reaching down to Steve with grabby hands to pull him up as well. "Come on Stevie, to the kitchen we go." 

Steve took the hands offered to him and let himself be pulled up off the floor, let himself be led by the hand into the kitchen, let his arms be wrapped around Eddie's shoulders like a scarf as the other opens the cabinet where they keep the snacks. 

"You want some pretzels?" Eddie questioned as he pulled down the bag, his other hand still holding Steve's where he'd placed it hanging at his chest. Steve replied with a hum that meant no, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder. "We have half a bag of chips left, you want that?" Another hummed no. "Okay, more for me." Eddie shrugged, grabbing the chips and closing the cabinet. He shuffled them over slightly to grab a plate before opening up the tins on the counter and filling the plate with muffins and sugar cookies. Then, he unwrapped Steve's arms from his shoulders and turned to face him, a sudden air of seriousness about him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Steve nodded.

"You sure? 'Cause you seem… thoughtful."

"I'm high."

"Yeah but it's a different kind of quiet than usual."

Trust Eddie to pick up on the most minute inconsistency in Steve's demeanor.

"Just…" Steve started thoughtfully, trying to arrange his words in his swirling mind. "Did you ever think you'd be so… domestic?" Eddie blinked.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean." He replied with a chuckle.

"Like… when I was a teenager I just kind of thought that I would inevitably end up like my dad. And then I was with Nancy and I started thinking maybe I could have something a little different; a marriage that wasn't loveless, a family I actually care about. But when all the Upside Down stuff happened, and it just kept coming back, it started to feel like I could never have a normal life. But now here we are, living in a normal house, going to work every day and just… living." Steve explained. "I didn't think I would ever get here, and I have no idea where I go from here."

"Well, wherever you want to go, Stevie." Eddie said with such a sweet authenticity that it made Steve feel emotional. He leaned forward to rest his head on Eddie's shoulder with a sigh, and Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve to pull him close. "It's not easy. I mean, Nancy's had her whole future planned out for years and even she got shaken by the Upside Down shit. I never second guessed persuing my music before but months in the hospital got me out of habit with it and I doubted that I could. You know that, you were the one who convinced me not to quit the band. We figured it out, you will too. We'll figure it out together." He moved one hand up to Steve's hair, twisting his fingers through the thick strands and stroking his scalp with his fingertips. Steve sighed and leaned into the touch.

"Okay." He breathed.

Eddie took a deep, hopefully discreet, breath. It wasn't often that Steve showed this vulnerable side of himself, and Eddie was proud that he showed it to him. For all that Steve did to take care of other people, Eddie especially, he didn't often let people take care of him. Eddie learned how to do it in small ways, making sure to regularly ask him how he was feeling and helping him unwind at the end of the work week, not to mention telling the kids to leave him alone for a bit if he was seeming overwhelmed or in need of a break. But this, holding Steve in his arms and giving him advice about something serious, was something he didn't get to do often. And he already loved Steve when he was coasting along nonchalantly downplaying his negative feelings for the benefit of the people around him, but when he opened up and let someone else see what he was really feeling? Eddie could feel his heart melting. 

"You're doing a good job just as you are right now, Stevie. You know that right?"

Now it was Steve's turn to feel his heart melt. Or maybe that was the weed. Either way, he didn't know when he started leaning on Eddie like this but now it was like Eddie had a magic effect on him. His voice, his touch, just being in the same room with him, it always made Steve feel more at ease. He let himself enjoy the feeling of Eddie's fingers in his hair for a few moments longer before pulling back from his hold and standing up straight.

Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was Eddie's big brown eyes, maybe it was the way that Eddie's hands lingered on his waist, but Steve was blurting out the words before his mind could tell his lips to stop.

"Eddie, I love you." He heard his own voice before he realised he was speaking. Then he panicked, and he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "I- I mean, I think I might be falling in love with you. And I- I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, but you're just so great. And we're really good friends and I don't wanna ruin that, and if you don't feel the same - I mean, you probably don't feel the same - you can just tell me and I'll never bring it up again."

Eddie was stunned. He stood completely still, staring at Steve as he continued to ramble, cheeks turning red as he blushed more with every word he spoke. If he wasn't high maybe he would be quicker to respond, but it was like Eddie's brain was ticking so slowly he could barely keep up with the words coming out Steve's mouth. Steve's mouth that he found himself staring at.

Steve was still rambling when Eddie grabbed his face in both hands and cut him off by pressing their lips together. Steve let out a surprised yelp as he was cut off mid word, his hands instinctively going to grab Eddie's hips as he returned the kiss.

This was the moment.

When Eddie pulled back he was grinning ear to ear, hands cupping Steve's face so gently.

"I love you too, Stevie. I love you so much, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He said softly. Steve smiled, letting out a relieved sigh, before pulling Eddie closer and kissing him again.

He pushed Eddie back so that he was leaning against the counter, crowding him in as he deepened the kiss. One of Eddie's hands found its way to take hold of the hair at the nape of Steve's neck while the other fisted in Steve's shirt at his shoulder.

Steve's fingers had just slipped under the fabric of Eddie's t-shirt when the phone started ringing, and they both pulled back with disappointed groans. Steve begrudgingly went to answer it.

"Hello, this is Steve." He answered the phone. A moment later he was pinching the bridge of his nose as the corner of his mouth pulled into an involuntary smile. "Hey Robbie, what's up? No, I'm not stoned… It was just a little, I'm not stoned. What do you want?" Eddie couldn't help his fond grin as he watched Steve on the phone with Robin, free hand moved to sit on his hip in the classic Mama Steve pose as he listened to his best friend. "Well, how am I supposed to know what girls in California are like…? Robin, you go to Stanford so I know you're not that stupid… I can help how!? I didn't even get into community college, you are talking about a league of people that I am not a part of!"

This was going to last a while. Eddie breathed an endeared laugh, picking up his pile of snacks and heading back to the living room, winking at Steve as he passed him.

He lounged on the sofa shoveling chips into his mouth, tuning in and out of Steve's side of the phone call and chuckling at his exasperation with whatever problem Robin had called him to discuss. He hummed under his breath, a melody that he had written and had been workshopping the lyrics for, as he finished the chips and scooped up a muffin.

"Robin, I can't plan dates for you." Steve pressed his forehead against the wall in exasperation. As much as he loved Robin, she really did have a way of finding a problem in practically everything and then also making that Steve's problem. "For starters, I don't know what your neighbourhood is like. And also, I don't know what this girl is like other than what you've rambled at me… Robs- Robin- Rob- Robin! I think you've forgotten that time zones exist, because it's past midnight here and you're keeping me up with your lesbianism." Eddie snorted a laugh at that, shoving half a cookie into his mouth. "Yeah, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Eds, yell hi."

"Hi Rob! Bye Rob!" Eddie yelled with an amused smile on his face.

"Yeah, no, he is stoned." Steve chuckled into the receiver. "Alright, bye Robbie. Love you."

"I'm not stoned." Eddie pouted. Steve pushed his legs off of the sofa so that he could sit down.

"More stoned than me." He rebutted, gesturing to the half eaten pile of food scattered across the coffee table.

"That's 'cause you're a pussy." Eddie grinned teasingly. "Is Robin having a wild series of dalliances with cool California girls?"

"No, and I also don't care about that right now. I'll deal with her tomorrow, but for the meantime I think we were in the middle of something." Steve replied with a smirk. Eddie shot upright, his charm only slightly hindered by being under the influence as he leaned into Steve's space with an eyebrow raised flirtatiously.

"Were we?" He purred. 

"Well, unless you don't want to be." Steve teased. Eddie quickly placed his hands on either side of Steve's face, getting up onto his knees as he pressed their lips together to swiftly dismiss that notion. A laugh reverberated in Steve's throat as he kissed him back. He pulled back with a smile and brushed a stray curl off of Eddie's face. "Your bedroom or mine?"

[esleep]

i am having the most ridiculously, cartoonishly bad day that i think i have ever had and i am going to be pitiful about it for a minute okay. if you read this i hope it makes your day seem much better by comparison, in fact i am pretty confident it will do that for you. it's probably a little funny also if you are not me.

testimonials: "my jaw fully dropped and stayed open the entire time, jesus christ" -shannon in reply to the 3+ minute rambling video i sent her about all of this.

here is my sordid tale, for those brave of heart and strong of stomach.

i woke up at 4 AM while having both a migraine and an anxiety attack (being around my family for extended periods will do that). i was unable to go back to sleep for multiple hours. my morning work alarm went off less than an hour after i finally drifted back off.

at work i spent 10 hours trying to catch up on a bunch of bullshit, because it was my first day back after a week and a half of hastily-arranged sick leave so i could be with my dying grandfather.

midway through my morning, i remember that last night i found a weird open sore on the back of my cat's neck, which i need to call a vet to get checked out IMMEDIATELY after work since i am supposed to be bringing a kitten home on Sunday and I do not want to bring him into a house full of ringworm or some other weird skin infection.

i start looking around online. looks like the only place anywhere nearby that will accept walk-ins AND is open after i get off work at 6 is the veterinary urgent care across town. cool. i call. they tell me their base exam cost is $110 and any treatments go on top of that. i wince and grimly make an appointment for 7 this evening.

at this point it is around noon and my stomach hurts. it's been hurting this whole time but i had kinda let it fade into the background because i thought it was just part of the anxiety. however it has been getting slowly stronger until it finally dawns on me that i am having period cramps. ten days early. cool and nice. i also do still have the migraine, thank you for asking.

i finish my work day at 6, then remember something crucial: rent. i go to bring my rent check physically to the landlord's office since i got back into town too late to mail it, and my landlord is so old school i can only pay by physical check or money order (online portal? never heard of her). the office is already closed, and they don't have a night drop available right now because their actual office was firebombed six months ago (lmao) and it's still being rebuilt so their temporary "office" is just a trailer. i panic-call my landlord, who says i can leave the check if i can manage to stuff it far enough into the door that no one can see it. i try my best. this takes a million years. the entire time i am worrying that i will be late to the vet.

we finally make it to the appointment. things seem to be going well at first - we are alone in the waiting room while i fill out my paperwork, ivy is mostly chill (shockingly). when we are brought to a room she even lets me feed her a churu through her carrier door, a decision i soon came to deeply regret. we'll get to that.

this is the first vet i've ever been to where they fully take your animal away from the "exam room" where you are supposed to wait and into a back area to examine and treat them, presumably because their protocol is built around much more severe illnesses and traumas. predictably, ivy did not like this very much. i nervously told the tech who took her away that if they had too much trouble with her, they were welcome to come and get me, because she usually behaves more for me than for anyone else. i can hear her yowling from the room where i have been told to wait, while i am staring down a sign that says "FOR YOUR SAFETY - PLEASE STAY HERE WHILE WE EXAMINE YOUR PET". it may be a liability thing for them, idk, but it is truly not my safety i am concerned about at this moment. it's not my cat's safety, either. those yowls are war cries. the beast seeks blood.

the vet comes in. he seems like a nice man. he tells me gently that he's having some trouble getting a good look at the sore because ivy is so upset (you don't say). i tell him i am happy to help them corral her, but also, i have a photo of it on my phone if he would like to look at that. he is delighted. i show him the blurry photo i took last night. he is less delighted. essentially, he tells me, this is most likely either an allergy flare-up, an infection/abscess, or possibly (least likely) ringworm. we agree on a three-pronged approach: one antibiotic shot and one steroid shot tonight, plus a tube of ointment to come home with me that i will apply once or twice a day ("whatever you can manage" he told me while nervously glancing at the door that separates us from my pet demon in the treatment room). this ointment contains more steroid and antibiotic, plus an anti-fungal, and it should help kick whatever is going on even if we can't positively identify it. he says if it gets worse or doesn't heal, or if she develops more of them, bring her back.

next to come in is a slightly wild-eyed vet tech who tells me that ivy has been attacking them all pretty badly (shocking) so they had to net her (okay that's a new one). during this process, she shit liquid diarrhea all over herself and them. after they gave her the necessary injections and tossed her from the net back into the carrier, "the poop went in with her" were the tech's exact words. she handed me a cloth and a spray bottle of disinfectant and basically told me i could stay in here as long as i needed to get the carrier cleaned up, but she couldn't stay in the room to help me because my cat is such a menace to society. that is fine. i would rather face her wrath on my own anyway.

they were not exaggerating when they told me she was absolutely covered in shit. that churu really lubricated the pipes or something because it is a frankly concerning amount of feces. her bed and blanket inside the carrier are beyond redemption. i don't really care too much about that - i've owned cats for two decades, i am wise enough not to keep anything i'm emotionally attached to inside the carrier. i am also not very squeamish about cleaning up a little poop. but what really gets to me this time is the smell. it is absolutely unholy. this is not regular cat shit smell, this is like satan's afterbirth. beyond just what's in the carrier, there is shit matted into ivy's fur all throughout her back half and a little toward the front too. she looks pitiful. but she walks out of the carrier so calmly when i open the door, almost like she's trying to preserve what dignity she can. i don't blame her. she's had a bad night.

i do what i can with the carrier to make it transportable, then go out to pay the staggering $365 that i owe for this ongoing nightmare. it is now nearly 9 pm. we've been here for two hours. i am exhausted like someone who has been to war. the extremely young boy they have running the front desk takes forever to figure out how to apply my Scratchpay (which i had to hastily apply for in the exam room), and meanwhile the smell that is coming off both me and my cat is like nothing i have ever experienced. it's freshly shocking to me every time i inhale. it's the kind of smell you never really acclimate to. i am pretty sure i have actually died and gone to hell without noticing the trip.

i bring the cat home (windows down, by necessity, praying it doesn't start raining again like it has been all day). i take her directly to the bathtub - do not pass go, do not collect $200. then i have the joy and privilege of giving her a bath in the tub. with dish soap. because that is all i have available and this is a bit too much of an emergency for me to doordash some cat shampoo. considering my cat's temperament, this goes about as well as you can imagine. by the end, the cat and i are pretty much equally wet, but at least she is mostly clean. i consider showering myself off while fully clothed, but decide against it for the sake of my bra, which is somehow the only thing still dry and untouched.

i am still a little bit in shock at how absolutely horrendous and LONG every aspect of this day has been. i need a xanax, $10,000 USD, a massage, and a handle of whiskey. i will be receiving none of that. goodnight.

[doudouneverte]

Director Love | VW (d-five)

a/n: hey everyone, this the fifth day of the Valentine's week and my second Supergirl fic (Alex is my favourite character by the way), i'm excited. don't worry i'll try to write more supergirl fic. I hope you'll enjoy this fic, it's a short fic. i'll see you tomorrow for a first [M.H] fic.

*not my GIF*

Alex Danvers x Female!Reader; Kara Danvers x Female!Reader(besties); Lena Luthor x Female!Reader(best friend); Supercorp

Summary: Alex forget today was 'the' day

Type: Fluff

Warning: nothing

word count: 974

day one | day two | day three | day four | day six | day seven

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

Alex was fighting an alien when something came to her mind, it was today, today you came back to National City. You were working for L-Corp, and Lena sent you to Central City to seal a deal with a potential business partner. The DEO agent was about to receive a punch, but her sister was here like a backup.

"What's going on, Alex?" Kara asked, and the older Danvers grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the other agents.

"It's today, Kara, and I didn't plan anything yet," she replied.

"Oh, you know how Y/N loves Valentine's Day; she will be mad if you haven't already planned anything. And she would be tired from the travel, so I'm sure she didn't plan anything either. You have like three hours to prepare something," the Kryptonian said, and the redhead rolled her eyes before suddenly stopping.

"Wait, I also forgot it was Valentine's Day today; oh my God, she will be mad," the director started to stress.

"Okay, calm down. I think Lena and I can give you some time," the blond said.

"But you have something to do with Lena too," the older sister said.

"Don't worry, I'll just take her to Ireland for this year," Kara said. "Oh, and you probably handle DEO stuff for yourself for the next few days," she added before flying away.

Three hours later, you were back in National City. You spent a week away from your girlfriend and your two best friends. You wanted to go directly home and start preparing everything you had planned for your special night, but you received a text from Lena.

Lena: Hey, I hope you had a good week. They called me about the meeting, and I know I made the best choice to send it to you. Also, can you come here? I need your help and your advice on something

You: Is it really important right now?

Lena: yeah, I need you to teach me how to cook something for my night with Kara

You: but can't you just order something?

Lena: yes but I want to surprise her and you're the best cooker I know

You: okay but we will do something quick cause I'm tired

Lena: promise

"Okay, she's coming," Lena said. "Great, I'll text Alex to let her know." Kara replied.

Kara: Lena convince Y/n to help her with cooking; you have 2 more hours, I think, to finish your thing.

Alex: thanks you. you're the best both of you

After twenty minutes, you were at Lena's home. "Hi you, I missed you," she greeted you when she opened the door. She hugged you.

"Me too," you replied with the same tone, "so what do you plan to do for your girl?" You asked, and she started to think.

"I don't know, maybe a dessert with some chocolate, you know, like fondant," she said, and you nodded.

"Okay, I think we can start with that, but you'll not just eat a dessert; we should think about a proper meal," you remarked.

"Maybe pop stickers, sushi, and pasta, or maybe just a big belly burger," you face palm yourself.

"Okay, we have to talk about your food habit later, but right now, don't you think Kara would want something else than just what she eats usually?" You said, and try not to judge her lack of imagination for a special night.

"I think you're right, so what do you suggest I do?" You smirked, and she started to regret having to distract you.

Meanwhile, in Alex's apartment, she was cooking your favorite food and trying not to 'accidentally' hurt or burn her sister, who didn't really help her; Kara was just here and ate something sometime. "You didn't plan to help me?" Your girlfriend asked her sister, and the blue-eyed girl shook her head and smiled 'innocently' "So what are you doing here?" the older sister added.

"Lena and Y/n are cooking for me in Lena's apartment; that means I can't go to see my girlfriend, and everybody is busy today, plus I don't want to be alone tonight," she replied.

"You can at least help me with the decoration," the blonde looked around.

"What do you want to do?" She was ready to use her super speed, but her sister handled some bills.

"You can go grab some flowers for me," the kryptonian mumbled something and walked to the door, "and take your time."

After a few more hours, all was ready. It was hard to help your boss, but you did it, and now it was time to go to your favorite place: Alex's house. When you knocked, Kara lowered her glasses to look across the wood. "It's her," she said to her sister before flying away. Alex adjusted her dress and opened the door.

You were almost trying to catch your jaw, which fell to the ground at the sight of your girlfriend. "Hi you," she said, and it brought you back to reality.

"Hi, you too." You kissed her and walked into the apartment. "You look stunning; like, wow, I don't even have a word to describe you." She blushed, and you gained another kiss.

"I missed you," she whispered near your lips.

"I missed you too, my beautiful girl," you replied, and she chuckled.

"Here," she grabbed your hand and dragged you on the couch, "I prepare something special for you." She quickly went to the kitchen and went back with a plate of food.

"Alex Danvers, you're the most precious girl on earth," you said, and this time it was her who gained a new kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied.

----------

[birgittesilverbae]

meatshield shotgun + ghost

barely edited hailstorm ch 2 sneak peek

//

Mary tips her head back against the wall and stifles a groan, stretches her legs out in front of her. The chill of the night air has long since permeated her bones, but there's no way she can find it in herself to regret handing her sweater off to Beatrice. It had been the barest smidgen of the comfort she deserved after a night like tonight.

Her stomach growls and she presses a hand to it, urges it to lapse back into quiet. She's gotten too used to freely available food, probably. Too used to the new credit card tucked in her back pocket that she'll never see a bill for. 

A door creaks open somewhere down the hall, followed by soft footsteps, but she doesn't open her eyes until something thuds against her chest. "Rude," she mutters, gaze flicking up to take in Shannon looming over her, a water bottle in one hand, a mass of something dark tucked under the other arm. 

"You gave away your supper," Shannon replies, punting her toes gently against Mary's calf. There's a softness to her, a pyjama shirt sticking out from beneath the hem of her hoodie, pant legs rucked halfway up her calves to reveal the sharks printed on her socks. "Eat," she urges, punctuating it with another prod of her foot.

Mary bats at her leg but scoops the protein bar from her lap all the same, and Shannon slides down the wall beside her, leaves a solid six inches of space between them, rolls the water bottle across the gap. The metal clicks on the stone floor. 

She unfurls her bundle as Mary works her way through the protein bar, passes the blanket over too. "Wasn't sure if you'd be able to get to bed tonight." Gaze fixed on the opposite wall, twitch at the corner of her mouth. 

Mary drapes the blanket around her shoulders like a cape, tries not to inhale the scent of the cheap convent soap wafting off it. She lifts the water bottle, tilts her head back to drink.

Shannon huffs out a laugh. "Thought so."

"What?"

"You did get punched in the throat."

"What? No!"

"So you don't have a bruised neck?"

"So it wasn't a punch."

"No?"

"No. Throat strike. Very different."

"Mhmm." Shannon hugs her knees to her chest, rests her cheek on them as she watches Mary. "Can't believe you dropped your guard enough that someone got in that close."

Mary scowls. "Sorry I didn't expect a four foot nothing kid to hit me that hard."

Shannon stifles a laugh. "Mary."

"Shut up."

"She's a child, Mary."

"I was a bit preoccupied, alright?"

A beat. Two. The quiet rustle of fabric as Shannon picks at the knee of her sweatpants. Then, "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I just spent half an hour talking about what happened."

"You just spent half an hour in a debrief. I'm more asking if you want to talk about why you look like you've seen a ghost."

Mary's shoulders fall. She presses the water bottle to the side of her neck, works her jaw. "Because I did," she says finally, almost too quiet for Shannon to catch. 

[cosleia]

Balance

Originally written for a kiss prompt on Twitter. Anise (twigbelly) asked for Yoda and Maz Kanata, "lazily".

--

Maz liked younger men. They had a lack of world-weariness, a lack of experience, that refreshed her. Hope was a hard thing when you had lived for nearly a millennium and seen what Maz had seen.

Maz also liked men who were nearing the end of their lives, because often at that point they started to recover their youthful joy.

It was the men in the middle who were difficult.

Yoda wasn't young enough when they first met. He was obviously interested, but he was also still clinging to his misguided interpretation of the Jedi Code, and Maz didn't feel like trying to talk him out of it. He had his chance, and he blew it.

Maz spent her Coruscant vacation running around with Dexter Jettster instead.

When the Force drew her to Dagobah some hundred years later, though, there Yoda was, seeming far older and far less certain of everything.

Maz liked when a person could admit they didn't possess all knowledge in the universe.

"I'm not sure why I'm here," Maz told him, settling down on a stool in his cozy little hut. "But it's a nice coincidence that you're here as well. Unless it's not." She gave him a wink.

To his credit, Yoda laughed at her terrible joke. "Moves in mysterious ways, the Force does," he agreed, stirring the pot he had going over the cookfire. "Expect to see you again, I did not." He glanced at her, looking almost shy. "Grateful, I am, for this second chance."

"So am I," Maz said, pleased.

They ate soup together in comfortable silence. When Yoda had cleared the bowls away, he told her he'd had a vision.

"Know not do I what it portends. Believed, I did, that I knew what to tell him. Wrong, I was. Happened differently, it could not have." He cocked his head to the side. "You, I saw, with his father's lightsaber."

"I believe you've made me wait long enough," Maz told him. "Tell me about the vision after. I may be nine hundred and seventy-six years old, but that doesn't mean I like wasting time."

Surprise sent Yoda's wispy eyebrows up his forehead. His nose wrinkled in a rather cute way.

"Kiss me," Maz clarified. "And you can take your time with it. Kissing is time well spent." She put a hand on Yoda's knee, and Yoda swallowed, then leaned in.

It was, Maz soon realized, his very first kiss. She did her best to make it a good one.

He in turn quickly learned how to take her breath away with soft, slow, gentle touches.

They spent several highly satisfying hours at it. When Maz felt she could no longer ignore her purpose here, she finally disentangled herself from Yoda. Regretful but also happy, she smiled at him. "So am I to bring this lightsaber to you?" she asked, getting right back down to business.

Yoda blinked at her. He had a wide, silly smile on his face. "No," he replied after a moment, seeming to gather his wits. "Return here, Skywalker will, yes. But no longer for him, that lightsaber is. Keep it you must, for someone else."

The Force did indeed move in mysterious ways. Maz set off to Cloud City to retrieve the lightsaber Obi-Wan Kenobi had given to Luke Skywalker…the lightsaber with which Anakin Skywalker had slain dozens of Jedi in the name of the Dark. That same fearsome blade would one day save the future of the Light.

And Yoda hadn't been ready, before, but he was ready now, when Maz returned to him.

Balance.

~The End~

[cheapcourses]

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[theycallme-thejackal]

"i know it's 2 in the morning but do you want to..."

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

Midge looks at herself in the mirror.

How did this happen? How is it possible that she's ended up here? Sixty-three - god, the wrinkles - and alone.

She tugs gently at her skin, trying to remember what it was like to be twenty-six with perfect skin and a perfect marriage. She has now officially spent half her life as a divorcée.

It's depressing, really. To think that she had the opportunity to not be alone three different times. Joel came back. Less than a week after he left, she could have taken him back, given it another go. And then Benjamin, who was fine with her being a comic and traveling, and she unceremoniously dumped him. And then Lenny.

Lenny, who could have been the great love of her life if she had just reached out. But she was too proud. Too annoyed at how right he had been.

And now he's gone, and they'll never have another someday.

She wakes with a jolt, her heart pounding as she bolts upright in bed.

She instantly feels her face, her night cream getting on her fingers. Gone are the wrinkles, replaced with her still smooth, not-yet-thirty-year-old skin. She rubs the cream into her hands and presses them to her chest, willing her racing heart to slow down.

"It was just a dream, Midge," she whispers to herself in the darkness of her bedroom. "Just a dream," she repeats as her heart rate starts to slow.

But the bed is empty beside her. She's alone. She may not be in her sixties and alone, but she's still alone, and she hates it.

She picks up the phone, dialing the operator and praying the number is still correct. The phone rings and rings, and with every blare of the tone in her ear, her heart starts racing faster.

"What in god's name could you possibly want at this hour?" He grumbles.

She exhales a sigh of relief before realizing she has no idea why she called him in the first place. "I..."

"Midge?" He asks, sounding confused and maybe a little concerned.

"Hi," she manages to breathe. "I, um...I know it's two in the morning, and I know you're mad at me, but...do you maybe want to grab a cup of coffee? Or some awful Chinese food? Or - "

"Midge," he interrupts. "Are you okay?"

She feels her lip tremble, her eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head and manages to whisper, "No..."

"Where are you?"

"At home," she says.

"Okay, I'll come to you. Just remind me the address?"

She does, and he promises to be there soon, and when she hangs up, she realizes she's still got Ponds on her face and curlers in her hair. "Fuck," she murmurs before throwing off the covers and heading for the bathroom.

She cleans her face and takes out the curlers, leaving her with slightly wavy hair as opposed to her usual perfect curls, but she can't really be bothered to care.

When she's dressed and has put on a little makeup (not much, just enough that she doesn't look like the walking dead), she heads for the door with the intention of meeting him in the lobby, but just as she gets to the foyer, there's a soft knock.

Oh.

She opens it slowly, and there he is, dressed more casually than she's ever seen him in a green sweater, blue jeans, and his too-thin trench coat. "The doorman didn't call up," she comments a little breathlessly.

"I think he's a fan," Lenny says with a dismissive wave as he steps inside. She closes the door. "That or he remembers you carrying me in here that one time. Odds are about fifty-fifty."

She exhales a slow breath as she looks up at him, and she doesn't know what to say.

"What's going on, Midge?" He asks softly.

Her eyes fill with tears again, and suddenly she regrets swiping on that mascara because it's definitely going to run. "I...I feel silly," she admits. He cocks his head to the side in question. "I had a nightmare, and..."

"And you called me?" He asks, eyebrows raised. She nods quickly. "Was the nightmare about me?"

"Sort of," she replies, blinking back tears. "It was...I was old. In my sixties, and I was alone, and you were..." She chokes out a sob, hugging herself around the waist.

He slides his arms around her shoulders, holding her close, and she shakes a little as she fights the tears. She sniffs and continues, "You were gone. I hadn't talked to you since Carnegie Hall, and you...you died. And I knew I was going to be alone forever." She whispers the last part as she grips his sweater gently.

He sighs deeply and holds her a little tightly. "You won't be alone forever," he promises. "Some lucky guy is gonna get the chance to spend the rest of his life with you."

"But I don't want just some guy, Lenny" she protests, pulling out of his embrace and looking up at him as she swipes her tears away. "I want - " She stops herself, swallowing thickly. "I want you," she confesses.

Obvious shock is written on his face. "Midge, you don't want me," he responds quietly.

"Don't tell me what I want!" She cries.

"I'm not telling you what you want. I'm telling you what you don't want," he counters. "And trust me, you don't want to be with me."

She looks up at him and takes a deep breath as she brushes another tear from her cheek. "Don't you ever get tired of thinking so little of yourself?" She asks.

He looks a little confused at that, his brows furrowing, and she continues, "You're smart and witty. You're incredibly sweet when you want to be. You care about people. You've got so much to offer, and I don't understand why you're so hell bent on putting yourself down. Just...stop thinking you don't deserve to be happy."

"It's not - I'm just - " He looks at her, unable to finish a sentence, and she feels a little shimmer of pride that she's managed to leave the usually loquacious Lenny Bruce speechless.

"If there is one thing I don't want to do," he finally manages to string together. "If there is anything in this world that I could possibly avoid, it's hurting you, Midge," he breathes.

"Pushing me away is hurting me," she replies gently.

He chuckles, but there's very little humor in it. "Quite the paradox I've managed to find myself in," he comments, rubbing his jaw as he looks at the floor.

"Yes, well, that's what you get for making me fall in love with you," she grumbles.

His eyes snap up to meet her gaze. "You...what?"

His dumbfounded look makes her laugh a little. "You bail a girl out of jail, save her career, take her on an amazing date, rescue her from a police raid, give her the three best orgasms of her life, and then save her career again, and you're surprised when she falls for you?" She teases, raising a brow at him.

"Honestly, yeah," Lenny breathes, shuffling his feet. "You weren't supposed to fall in love with me."

"Well I did," she insists. "And this is the part where the man usually..." She waves her hand.

He sighs through a little grin. "I was never going to say this out loud, but...yeah...I love you, Midge."

She closes the distance and hugs him around the neck, grateful for the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. She holds him like that for a long while, and he nuzzles his face into her neck. "Will you stay?" She whispers.

"Are your parents gonna grill me over breakfast?" He mumbles against her.

Midge laughs. "Oh, definitely."

He pulls back and gazes at her softly. "Small price to pay."

She smiles and gently presses her lips to his.

[xgryffinwhore]

september nights

request:  i was wondering if you could write another soft bill smut? i don’t really have a specific plot in mind, we’re just really lacking content on tumblr rn :( in some really precarious place where they don’t want to get caught

warnings: soft smut, like i mean very soft.

word count: 2118

before your lips met bill denbrough’s, love was always, to say the least, a conundrum. lets be real for second, boys wasted your time, and you let them. only the cute ones of course. you are a hopeless romantic, drunk off of molly ringwald and john travolta films. you wanted any relationship you had to be just like the movies.

through your heart breaks, your best friends stood by you, your losers. eddie, richie, bev, stan, ben, and bill. for each tear you shed a punch was thrown to the man who caused it, they were protective over you. bill the most though, he always got so defensive when you were in the mix. all throughout middle & high school, bill has had to deal with every guy who even dares to think about breaking your heart.

“its not fair bill” you wailed into your pillow. he stroked your back and hushed you, his eyes welling with tears. “im never fucking good enough for any guy and its so fucking sad!” your complaints being cut off mid sentence by a choked out cry. “y-y/n. all of y-your boyfriend are i-idiots. anyone w-who would d-d-do this to you isnt w-worth your t-time. anyone w-would be the luckiest in the w-world to have y-you in their life” you picked your head up and looked at him with swollen lips and blood shot eyes “there no one out there for me bill, no one.” 

he bit his lip, fighting back any tears dripping from his eyes “they j-just dont see how p-pretty you are. how g-gentle and caring and s-s-sweet, and h-how your face c-can light up any room. theyre f-fucking idiots, and you d-deserve m-more.” you clearly thought he was being nice, because you could take a MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMN hint, so you replied “i wish there was someone out there like you, for me, that thinks of me the way you do.” 

he furrowed his brows, tossing his head back and running his fingers furiously through his hair. “d-dammit y/n!” he cursed “cant you s-see what ive b-been trying to say? w-w-what ive been t-trying to say f-for the last f-five years!?!” your expression was bewildered, your brain was going a mile a minute trying to figure out what he meant. his frustration got the best of him, he got up and stormed out the door,  feeling embarrassed and stupid for trying to make you understand how he felt.

he was half way out your front door, fuming for his keys lodged deep into his front pocket; when suddenly:

“bill!”

his head turned at the call of his name, “y-y/n please i d-”

smack.

your lips locked with his, he rain pouring heavily outside. bills lips stilled at the contact, but this lasted briefly, he deepened this kiss by pulling you in to his abdomen by your mid back. your bunched the front of his base ball t shirt with your fists, and he did the same but with your hair.

the rest is basically history.

now six months later, and you couldnt have been happier. bill knew how to treat you, nights out twice a week (you always wanted to pay but bill insisted,) holding your hand to and from classes, he let you borrow have his varsity baseball jacket, which smelt just like him and was a little too big for you. 

when he would drop you off and your classes, he would always grab your hand and transfer a tiny piece of paper into your palm. when you got into class to unfold it, it was always a cute little message about his love for you. 

bill had it bad for you, everyone knew that, and you loved every minute of it. he met every and any standard you had, and exceeded your expectations. 

it was september, still warm enough in derry to wear shorts, so you and your friends thought of a last hurrah for the ending of the summery weather.

“camp out, its nearly perfect” Richie exclaimed. eddie rolled his eyes “like youve ever been near anything perfect toizer, do you even know what perfect means?” richie shoved eddie “yeah eddie i actually have. have you seen amanda’s tits?”

 you tuned out richie and eddies bickering as you’re boyfriend cleared his throat. “you g-gonna go?” he said into your ear, “only if you promise to wear bug spray bill, you know how bad-” he cut you off with a kiss, his mouth forming a small smile at how cute you were. “get a room, honestly” stan poked, pda wasn’t his favorite... “at least i h-have something to k-kiss aye s-stannie”

you arrived at the edge of the forest, parking your car at the last parking ish space. you walked toward the sounds of ben and richie fighting, and came to see that richie really went all out. three tents, sticks for a fire, and more snacks than anyone needed. 

you all spent the remanence of the daylight dancing in the light sky, sharing stories, and eating waaaay too many chips. it was dark now, you all huddled in a circle near the fire; making small talk and trying not to admit you were all very tired.

“ok folks, im off to bed” richie yawned “me stan eddie n’ mike will take the green tent, bev and ben in the red.” richie paused and smirked over at you and bill, you were tangled in his limbs, golfed in his navy blue pull over. “and uh- heh- billy boy and y/n in the yellow tent eh?” you could practically feel bills eye roll, god richie was so immature.

“w-we dont have to s-sleep in the s-s-same tent, i c-can ask ben if he’d s-switch” you look up at bill and reassure him “bill no- its not a big deal, right?” he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your temple “c-course not.”

you both went into the tent, bill began to unroll the blankets you both had packed tightly into your bags. You both set up your makeshift bed, bill leaned against a pile of pillows while you hugged his side, your face buried in his neck. his smell was absolutely intoxicating; his skin had remanence of his milk and honey body wash, but it was slightly overpowered by wintergreen, clove, and his bourbon cologne. 

you were like this for around an hour, the orange crank-powered lantern being the only source of light. you switch positions though, you now laid your head on his lap, reading a magazine you stole from the hair salon. he watched your eyes scan every letter, when you read something funny you’d huff to yourself, and when something was intresting you stuck your tongue out from between your teeth. he adored you.

“d-dont stay up t-too late” he stroked your hair off your shoulder “we have t-to have you w-well r-r-rested.” you sat up from beside him, as he adjusted the pillows and took off his pull over, then his pants. he got under the covers and waited for you.

“nice donut boxers” you laughed. “s-shut up” he blushed and regreted not changing them when he had the chance. you turned around took off your shirt, you were shy about how you looked, but it was just bill. it was just bill. you heard his breath hitch, his eagerness radiating off his body onto yours. the air became tense as you unzipped your pants and threw them to the corner. you turned around, bills pupils growing until you were completely facing him.

“yeah i know. mine are boring” you laugh nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear and getting under the covers next to him. he didnt respond, he couldnt take his eyes off of you.you began to sit up again “i can go put back on-” “n-no!” he interrupts, his blush taking up his entire face.

“i j-j-just cant b-believe i g-get to see something s-so special” he gulped “s-so b-b-b-beautiful.”

you grabbed him by his shoulders and kissed him, hard. youve been with boys before, i mean youve dated plenty of people. but no one ever called your body special. hot, yeah. nice, yeah. beautiful, sure. but no one ever thought that it was special. 

bill was a kind boy, the most you two have ever done is get each other off with your hands, always clothed. bill never asked to see more, he felt lucky enough just to make you feel good, and that was enough for him. so when you felt the heat of his hands hovering over your body but not touching it, you new you’d have to call the shots tonight.

“bill,” you laid down “just touch me everywhere, please.” he crawled in between your legs, kneeling so that he could lean over your face “m-my pleasure.”

he traced your collar, leaving small, delicate, kisses to make up for what his fingers left behind as they trailed. he kissed the valley between your breasts, licking slow striped down your skin. he picked up your upper back a little and cocked his head to the side, you nodded and he unclipped your bra. he sat their with his mouth open, taking in the view. you blushed and muttered “hey, keep that mouth to good use.” he dipped down and sucked on your nipples, his mouth felt so good against your skin grazed with goosebumps. he was gingerly with his tongue, it was sexy, it was romantic. he kissed down your stomach, his fingers sweeping down your sides. you could see his member pressing against his boxers, the pressure made him wince every once in a while. his fingers met your panties and he hooked them. again, he looked up for permission, you nodded once again. 

he brought your underwear down your legs and off, looking back to see what he had relieved. he licked his lips, getting ready to please you more than he already did. but you felt bad, bill always gave gave and gave. “its ok, im ready right now.” bill looked up at you in shock, he wasnt expecting you’d want to go all the way. “y/n, y-youre sure?” you lean up and kiss his lips, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip “please.”

he pulled down his boxers eagerly, his member sprung out to hit his stomach. he lined up with you, checking once more that it was ok. then he pushed in, bottoming out. he felt bigger than you thought, of course he was well endowed, but he filled you up so well. you mewled, the pain and pleasure making a delicious feeling that made your toes curl.

he waited, but began slowly moving after a bit. he grunted, feeling you wrapped around him was something he’d never be able to get out of his head he thought to himself. he grunted “f-fuck this feels g-good’ he grunted, his breath becoming heavy and full of lust. with every stroke, you felt yourself get more and more lost in the bliss he made you feel. “youre making me feel so good  bill” you moan, the sound of his name coming out of your mouth driving him absolutely crazy. he speeds up, loving the view of your face contorting in pleasure and your body moving with his. 

he couldnt help but feel admiration to you, your hair formed a halo around your head, and the sweat that coated your skin made you glisten in the orange light. “im t-the luckiest in the world” he husks, holding your cheek. 

you felt the knot in your core coming undone, “bill im close” you strain, trying not to be too loud so you dont wake your friends. he moved your leg up to his shoulder, hitting you from a different, deeper angle. his fingers went to your clit, making you bite your had to stop you from screaming. “you l-look so p-pretty y/n, t-taking me s-so well. making y-you feel so good.” “so good bill” you repeat, drunken off his cock and fingers. 

without warning, you came came, your legs spazzing as you moaned “fuck bill” he followed, his hips stuttering, as he cried out into your shoulder. he pulled out and laid next to you, both of you breathing heavily and coming off your highs. 

“y/n” he looked at you “t-that was really j-just wow- thank y-you.” you kissed him, chaste and sweet “that was great yeah?” “it w-was perfect babe. t-thank you f-for t-that. i love you y-y/n.”

“i love you too bill.”

he sat up, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“c-can we p-please do t-that again?”

[spencersawkward]

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed! 

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best. 

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him. 

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't. 

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh. 

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals. 

"you should bring one of your other friends." 

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world. 

"I thought that was just me." he says. 

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?" 

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep. 

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up. 

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't. 

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other. 

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open. 

"yeah?" 

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift. 

"I could hear your breathing change." 

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds. 

"I wanted to say goodnight." 

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.  

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound. 

"now I can't because you made it weird." 

"how did I make it weird?" 

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?" 

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated. 

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.  

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours. 

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do. 

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship. 

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing. 

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs. 

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate. 

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge. 

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart. 

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it. 

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over. 

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again. 

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing. 

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest. 

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things. 

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath. 

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars. 

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most. 

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle. 

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out. 

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull. 

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate. 

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head. 

he definitely has a concussion. 

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway. 

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun." 

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold. 

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor. 

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious. 

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know. 

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank. 

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key. 

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could. 

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called. 

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. 

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed. 

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.  

"hi." 

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here. 

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me." 

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second. 

"Y/N, I'm really fine." 

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed. 

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully. 

"sounds like a nightmare." 

"it is." he cracks up. 

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?" 

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too." 

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm. 

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter. 

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her." 

"oof." you wince. 

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did. 

"yeah." he avoids your gaze. 

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard. 

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares. 

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder. 

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking. 

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret. 

"you already said that." 

"shut up." 

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks. 

"whatever. you care about me, too." 

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you." 

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums. 

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas. 

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud. 

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you. 

"were you thinking about anything in particular?" 

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.  

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care. 

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you." 

"like?" now you're intrigued. 

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down. 

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?" 

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um." 

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be. 

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you." 

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal. 

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed. 

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you." 

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more. 

your heart swells. 

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder. 

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way. 

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look. 

"I'm in love with you, too." 

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod. 

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable. 

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it. 

"I'd say so, yeah." 

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9. 

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly. 

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead. 

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before. 

never like this. 

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his. 

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact. 

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans. 

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in. 

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection. 

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you." 

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer." 

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you. 

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other. 

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast. 

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material. 

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god." 

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too. 

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now. 

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow. 

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.  

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..." 

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth. 

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans. 

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down. 

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully. 

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like." 

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop." 

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines. 

"mhmm." 

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something." 

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers. 

"I'm a virgin." you say. 

Spencer frowns. "really?" 

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful." 

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry. 

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence. 

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?" 

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency. 

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts. 

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands. 

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face. 

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you. 

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back. 

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting. 

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly. 

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop." 

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort. 

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock. 

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it. 

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin. 

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect." 

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum." 

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too." 

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement. 

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan. 

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high. 

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions. 

you collapse fully, him still inside. 

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it. 

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out. 

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird. 

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy. 

"we should try multiple times." 

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?" 

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?" 

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate. 

"yeah." 

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg​ 

[the-bau-quinjet]

Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

-

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

-

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

-

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

-

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

-

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Pride

Dear nonnie who requested that I write something for Pride month, I'm so, so sorry! Somehow this got lost in my inbox and I didn't see it until I started working on 'Bargain' this afternoon. Please accept this humble ficlet and my deepest apologies. <3

I'm kind of nervous about this one. I know coming out is a deeply personal experience and I'm not sure I wrote it terribly well. Please know that you are loved, valued, cherished, and accepted just as you are. I know for many people the struggle is so much greater than what I wrote in this ficlet. You are all amazing. <3

cw: Internalized homophobia, homophobic parents (happy ending)

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

June 12, 1999

"Hey!" Harry said, bursting into Draco's room like it was his own.

Draco looked up from the essay he was writing, the last one he needed to finish for his eighth year at Hogwarts. "Hi," he replied and he couldn't help but admire the dimple that stood out on Harry's cheek as he smiled at him.

"Some of us are heading down to Hogsmeade for the pride celebration they're having there tonight," Harry said. "Did you want to come?"

His brow furrowed, "Pride? Like house pride?"

Harry laughed but not unkindly like it would have been prior to this year, "No, like gay pride. It's to celebrate people who are lgbtq+, to affirm their dignity and worth as human beings, you know?"

Draco felt his cheeks flushing hot, "I'm not," he managed through the way it felt like someone had closed off his airway, shaking his head, "I'm not gay!"

"Err," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck, "Right, I wasn't trying to imply anything. Just," he shrugged, "I think I'm bi, and there's GInny and Luna," he continued, stumbling over his words.

"But I'm not!" he protested

"Right," Harry repeated, brow furrowing, "We just thought..." he trailed off, "Ron, who's like as straight as they come is coming too, to show his support."

"I can't," Draco said. "I've got all this work to do, I just-"

"It's okay," Harry said, shaking his head and holding out a hand, "Totally fine, sorry to have bothered you," he added as he quickly fled the room before Draco could say anything else.

(Continue reading below the cut)

He stared after him, still feeling panicked and full of regret at the same time.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

And in spite of the fact that he'd told Harry he needed to finish his essay, he spent the rest of the night trying to get his heart to slow down, his breathing to come easier, and his mind to stop spinning.

The essay remained untouched.

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

June 9, 2000

Draco was having murderous thoughts.

They had a tradition on Fridays that everyone who lived in Grimmauld sat down together for dinner and if you were dating someone, you were allowed to bring them home with you for dinner. Draco never brought anyone home because the women he dated were so unattractive to him that he just couldn't bring himself to see them for more than a date or two.

Harry, on the other hand was always bringing someone home. He had men and women there with him every week. Usually, it was a different person every week and that didn't bother Draco all that much. But he'd been seeing Conor for six weeks now and the way the other man was always clinging to Harry, always laughing and batting his eyelashes at him; it made Draco feel ready to kill him.

"So I was thinking," Harry said when there was a lull in the conversation, "The Leaky is having a Pride Night celebration tomorrow. Maybe we should all go together?" he asked hopefully.

There were murmurs of approval all around the table and Draco dropped his gaze to his plate, his palms started to itch. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"What about you, Draco?" Conor asked, all toothy smiles as he rested his arm around Harry's shoulders.

He couldn't help but look over at Harry who was suddenly watching him in that way that made him feel like he was being held under a magnifying glass. People thought that Harry was oblivious but Draco knew they were wrong. Harry knew everything about Draco just from watching him.

Draco swallowed, "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah. I can come for a bit."

Harry smiled at him then, soft and sweet, his dimples showing, "Yeah?" he asked.

And Draco was fairly certain there was nothing he could have said no to when Harry asked like that, so he nodded.

"Great!" Conor enthused and the moment dissipated like fog in the sun. "It'll be so fun to have all of your friends there, babe."

"Err," Harry said, looking over at Conor, "Yeah. Totally." Then he turned back to look at Draco once more, "Yeah," he said again.

-----------

June 10, 2000

Draco had made a mistake.

Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay. Malfoys aren't gay.

"Hey!" Harry said, appearing out of nowhere and wrapping an arm around Draco, "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," he lied.

"Come on," Harry said, "Let me introduce you to some people."

Draco spent the next hour meeting all sorts of people, he listened to people telling their stories, people who were claiming their own lives and destinies, and all he could feel was loss.

Every person he listened to felt like another stone tied around his neck, their joy and freedom made him feel even more trapped. Harry went to fetch drinks as he listened to a trans woman named Jocelyn talking about how difficult it had been to come out to her family. And it was the final straw, he lost it. Tears slipped from his eyes and before he could do anything, she was hugging him, "We've all been where you are," she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled back, "I'm not-" he covered his mouth, he couldn't quite force out the lie.

She nodded knowingly, "We've all been there, too."

"I've got to go," he managed, rising on shaking legs and making his way out of the bar as quickly as he could.

When he got outside he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath.

"Draco!" he heard as the door opened and he wasn't ready for this.

"Don't," he said, standing up and holding out his hands to stop Harry from coming any closer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern and Draco hated it.

"Malfoys aren't gay!" he exploded.

"What?" Harry asked as though his words hadn't been perfectly clear.

"Malfoys aren't gay," he repeated.

Harry tilted his head at him, "Alright."

"So you can stop this," he said, gesturing at the door. "I don't need help coming out. I'm not gay," he spat.

"I'm not trying to help you come out," Harry said, his voice measured and calm in a way that told Draco just how hard he was working at not getting emotional. "I just wanted to introduce you to-"

"Bull shit," he hissed. "Every person you 'introduced me to' told me about coming out."

"It's Pride, Draco. They're," he stopped and corrected himself, "We're celebrating coming out. We're celebrating not hiding who we are anymore. If you think it's about you, well," he shrugged a shoulder, "You probably have more in common with us than you want to admit."

"I'm not gay!" he shouted, shoving Harry away from him.

There was a flash of hurt across Harry's face before he put his hands on his hips and that fire that Draco so remembered from Hogwarts filled his eyes. "No one said you were!" Harry shouted back. "And if you were so afraid of having people think you are, why did you even come in the first place?"

"I guess I shouldn't have."

Harry took a step back away from him, shaking his head, "I guess not." He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar, leaving Draco standing on the sidewalk, shaking as the adrenaline flooded through him.

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

June 11, 2000

It wasn't quite morning when Draco heard a soft knock at his door.

With no small amount of effort, he reached for his wand and cast a spell to open it. Harry was standing in the doorway and Draco huffed, "I've already packed," he said. "I'll leave in the morning."

"What?" Harry asked, sounding panicked, "No!" he said, stepping across the threshold of Draco's room and moving to the chair across from Draco's bed. "No," he repeated. "Draco, please don't leave. I'm sorry. Alright?" Harry said. "I shouldn't-"

"You're sorry?" Draco asked, sitting up and staring at the other boy, "No, I'm sorry," he said, quickly. "I was awful and I didn't le-"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "It's my fault. I shouldn't-"

"I'm gay," Draco blurted and then realized what he'd just admitted. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Harry whispered, climbing onto the bed next to him and pulling Draco into his arms, "It's okay."

Draco shook his head but couldn't manage any words around the sob that was choking him.

"It's okay," Harry soothed, stroking his fingers through Draco's hair and rocking him. "I've got you," he breathed. "You're safe," he said, "You're safe," he repeated. "You're loved and you're accepted," he told him, "I've got you."

Draco sobbed, all of the fear, and the guilt, and the shame was built up high in his chest and he felt like he couldn't breathe around it.

"Okay," Harry soothed, "Slow breaths with me, yeah? Just try to match your breathing to mine," he said, his hand rubbing soothingly over Draco's back.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath that burned all the way down into his lungs.

"That's it," Harry encouraged, "You're alright."

He continued breathing slowly and Draco tried to mirror it until his sobbing was just the occasional hiccup and the tears were just trickling out of his eyes.

"Okay," Harry breathed. "Better?"

Draco nodded and pulled back, "Sorry," he murmured, then he caught sight of Harry's shirt covered in tears and snot and wished that the earth would open up and swallow him, "Salazar, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for his wand and casting a hasty drying charm followed by a cleaning charm.

"It's fine," Harry said, reaching out to still Draco's motions. "It's fine," he repeated. "Look, I didn't mean to pressure you into coming out," he said. "I won't tell anyone," he added hastily.

He shook his head, "It's eating me up inside." Draco wiped the tears off his face, "I'm going to die alone."

"Don't say that," Harry said.

"Well it's true!" he said, "What am I supposed to tell my parents?"

Harry took his hand, "It's up to you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand the challenges you're facing. My parents are dead."

"Oh, thanks. Play the dead parent card."

Harry huffed a laugh, "Shut up. I'm trying to say that I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. It's not an easy decision and I want you to know that I am here for you, that I support you, no matter what."

His eyes filled with tears and he let out a groan, "Stop it."

The other boy wrapped his arms around him, "No."

"What is this?" he asked, from where his face was buried in Harry's neck.

"Affection."

"Disgusting," he murmured.

"Want me to stop?"

He shook his head because when Harry wasn't hugging him everything felt a little too big and a little too close.

And he had no idea what he was going to do but when Harry was holding him it didn't seem quite so scary.

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

A few weeks later, he and Harry had started dating in secret. Harry was very sweet, very patient as Draco struggled against years of deeply ingrained negative thoughts. Draco still felt like he was a bit of a burden but Harry always insisted he wasn't.

Just over a month after that, Hermione had figured it out on her own, Pansy had tricked him into confessing, and Ron had walked in on the two of them making out on Harry's bed.

And the world didn't end.

Slowly, over the course of the next seven months, they told all of their friends. Everyone was supportive. Everyone was happy for them, happy for him that he'd decided to walk in the truth.

Truth be told, he was happy too. His anxiety still got the worst of him some days and his fear was sometimes bigger than anything else but he got through those days and those days slowly became fewer and fewer.

He got comfortable with Harry; comfortable holding hands, comfortable with casual kisses, comfortable with bickering that turned into flirting, just comfortable in his skin.

One chilly March morning, he and Harry were out to breakfast and they were laughing and teasing each other, like they always did and Draco was happy all the way down to his toes.

He looked across the table at Harry, "You've got whipped cream on your mouth," he laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out and missed completely.

"Here," he said with a laugh, "Let me," he added as he grabbed the front of Harry's jumper and pulled him close so he could kiss it off his grinning face.

He was pulling back to check that he'd gotten it all when he heard a gasp that he would have recognized anywhere. Draco would never be quite sure what his face and body language were saying at that moment but Harry was instantly on alert, scanning the room for danger. "Shit," he breathed.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," his mother hissed. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing."

"Don't make a scene, mother," he said and even he was surprised at how calm the words came out.

"I don't think that I am the one making a scene, Draco."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said, "Why don't we go somewhere more private for this conversation."

"Oh no," she said, "I don't think there is any conversation to be had. Draco, we'll be leaving. Right this instant."

Draco looked at her, at the woman who had dried his tears, who had sacrificed for him, who had given him life and his heart yearned for her. He longed to reach out and hold her hand like he had when he was young, to let her reassure him that everything would be alright. And it could be. He knew if he walked away with her today, he'd go back to living the life that had been planned for him.

But then he looked at Harry and all he could see was freedom. His heart expanded as he remembered the late nights talking over a bottle of wine, the early mornings as the sun filtered in through Harry's window and painted him golden. He remembered the cuddles on the couch and the evenings spent cooking dinner together. And he knew that he could never go back. He could never live a life of duty and obligation knowing that this one was possible.

"I love you," he said softly as he stared at Harry.

The other man blinked before his mouth curved up in a grin, his dimples showing, "I love you, too."

He reached for Harry's hand to ground himself as he turned to his mother, "You know that I love you," he said to her, "but I can't live a lie. I can't be the boy that you wanted."

"Draco you are being ridiculous."

"Maybe," he replied. "But I never knew what it was like to be free before these past few months with Harry and I won't give them back."

She cast a belated muffliato. "There are plenty of Purebloods who are gay, Draco," she said, keeping her voice low, "You still have your obligation to have a pureblood heir. Marry a nice girl and take a lover if you must, but you will continue your bloodline."

He laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical even to his own ears. "Do you hear yourself?" he asked. "The Malfoy line can die with me. I'm not marrying some woman just to please you."

"Draco-"

"No," he said sharply. "No. I can't do this, mother. I can't be what you want me to be. I'm done." He shook his head, "You can accept this, accept me or not. Either way I am done."

She straightened her spine and smoothed the emotions from her features and Draco knew the decision she had made before she started speaking. He clasped Harry's hand tighter in his. "Very well, then," she said. "Good day," she murmured before she walked away without a backward glance.

They sat in silence for a moment before Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

"What can I do?" he murmured, squeezing Draco's hand again.

"Can we go home?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, love. Of course."

He apparated them back and they spend the afternoon cocooned in Harry's room until their friends came to find them for dinner.

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June 9, 2001

This year it's Draco who asked about going to the bar to celebrate Pride.

Harry smiled and pulled him in for a long kiss before nodding and getting dressed.

When they arrived, Draco slipped his fingers through Harry's holding his hand tightly; proud of Harry, proud of how far they've come, and proud of himself for how much he's grown and how brave he's become.

Several of the people he'd met the year before remembered him and are quick to congratulate him and welcome him again. The night was full of music and dancing, of listening to stories and starting to tell his own, it's everything Harry had made it sound like.

And he thought he might be happy, in spite of that little bit of his heart that always ached for his parents.

They're about to head up for another round of drinks when Harry tugged on his hand. "Look," he murmured, pointing to the door.

Draco followed his pointing and saw that there was a woman standing in the door who looked remarkably like his mother. "What?" he managed.

But Harry was already waving to her and nudging Draco forward.

"What?" he repeated when he was standing in front of her.

Without a word she wrapped her arms around him, enfolding him in the comforting feel and scent of his childhood.

"Mummy?" he whispered.

"Yes, darling," she replied, voice equally thick with tears.

Harry cleared his throat, "I'll fetch us some drinks. What can I get you Narcissa?" he asked.

"Whiskey neat," she replied without releasing her hold on Draco.

He pulled back after one more moment, "What are you doing here?"

"Where else could I be?" she asked. "When we didn't see you for your birthday last week," she shook her head. "Well, I knew that I was making a mistake."

Harry returned handing them their drinks and nodding toward a table nearby.

They headed over and she sat next to Draco, "You're my child, Draco," she said. "And I love you more than you can imagine."

He nodded once but didn't say anything. This sounded too much like the start to one of the 'I love you and if you love me, this is how you should act' talks.

"Fortunately, your Mr. Potter has sent quite regular correspondence."

"What?" Draco said, whipping his head around to look at Harry.

He nodded once but before Draco could question him his mother continued.

"He invited me to come tonight," she continued, "To support you. And I've missed so much already, how could I say no?"

"This isn't a phase," he said. "I'm not going to change my mind or be cured one day."

She nodded, "I know."

"Does father?"

She hummed, "We're getting there." She took his hand in her's, "For now, won't you introduce me to some of your new friends?"

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Two years later, when he and Harry got married, both of his parents were there, sitting right in the front row and cheering them on.

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Thanks for the prompt! I don't quite know what you were hoping for so I hope this is okay! <3