#because despite my initial anxiety i had the best show ever tonight and was surrounded by super helpful and lovely harries

[fadeintolight]

.

[mxrcayong]

part of @nct-writers​’s cafe resonance collab!

genre: fluff, a more UK-based pov of university

summary: jisung, a college student now looking for a job, has decided to apply for a job at the local café. he thought being friends with the manager and its employees has it perks; from unlimited free coffee to whatever pastries haven’t been eaten by the end of the day. needless to say; the perks must end somewhere. 

word count: 2317 words

note: i didn’t make the divider!!

College students practically live by coffee shops. If university was a religion, the on-campus coffee shop would be the bible. Daily, college students’ breath in the coffee beans like oxygen, feel the permanent imprint of coffee mug or a ‘to go’ cup on their lips. They’re surrounded by the smells of different fruity pastries and savory snacks, and the sounds of students either chatting or typing away on their computers. 

It’s no wonder that the university coffee shop was practically a hub of activity. When you sit down to work at Café Resonance, it’s feels like you’re a part of a bigger and collective community, stressing for assessments or just taking a break from their hectic university schedules. It’s especially hectic when you’re a full-time student and work part time.   

“Do I really need to get a job?” Jisung sighed, scratching his head as he leant against the barista’s counter. His six closest friends were working behind the counter: using the coffee machines and decorating the pastries. “Can’t I just use your employee discount on everything?” 

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “You know I want to, my little mouse.” He teased as he placed another order on his tray, “But I can only put the café employee discount on so many things.” He practically sung as he left, heading to a table to bring another set of students their own cups of their own ambrosia.     

From the cash register, Haechan had just finished taking the orders of the last bunch of the line and immediately replaced Jaemin’s place next to Jisung. “You can always just become a sugar baby.” He suggested, coming over to the display case to grab one of the pastries to heat up per the customer’s order. “Or a pole dancer… aren’t you a good dancer?” 

Jisung immediately protested. “Firstly, no. Secondly, is it even legal? I literally only became an adult this year.” 

“Actually…” Haechan started to counter, only to be interrupted by Mark approaching with a raised hand and a dirty mop. 

“Stop telling everyone to become a sugar baby.” Mark chided as he ducked to get back behind the counter, drudging the cleaning supplies with him. “You do realize that if someone does become a sugar baby, they aren’t entitled to paying for your shit either.” In response, Haechan grumbled under his breath as he gave the bewildered customer overhearing the odd conversation their fruity treat. 

Jisung has visited his closest friends enough to know that working at the café is like a beautifully choreographed dance. It moves like clockwork; with the six doing their roles diligently and without question. So, it’s not unusual for his friends to come and go during the conversation – all taking part whilst separating themselves at the same time. 

“Why don’t you just ask Chenle if you could work here?” Renjun suggested, coming out from the back room where he started baking some more pastries – obvious through his powdered apron. “We all work here already, and we can go through the ropes with you.” 

Jeno immediately stepped in and basically rejected the offer. “Do you remember the last time we hosted an event and Jisung wanted to help?” He prompted, before chuckling. “He tried to wash the food with dish soap…and he broke the broom when cleaning!” 

Almost as if the thought of teasing Jisung summons him, Chenle came out of seemingly nowhere. “Didn’t he leave the broken broom on the floor and just started playing video games?” Jeno, Haechan, and Renjun nodded – remembering the mess the 00-line apartment was that night.  

“Not the best party we hosted.” Jaemin commented, going around the counter to make his own drink now that the list of waiting customers is gone. “But, still, Jisung learns fast. I think he could work here.” 

Chenle let out an introspective hum, before leaning over to whisper to Haechan. With a questionable look on their faces, Chenle decided to call Jisung into the back room and in his makeshift ‘managers office’ (a perk of being family with the owner of the university café). “I’ll consider your application, but I can’t do any nepotism.” He started, “so, you must go through the whole application process.” He paused. “You must come up with your own recipe.” 

With a rule to not discuss recipes with his ‘potential future co-workers’ – which Chenle weirdly specified as everyone but Haechan, Jisung had to get straight to work. In all honesty, he had no baking experience nor ever made a drink without a guiding recipe.

While his six closest friends were out of the equation, he had another friend he could reach out to; Y/N. 

You were in his freshmen orientation group earlier this year. Not going to lie, you initially thought of each other as familiar faces who you’d occasionally wave at or nod in acknowledgement when you walk past each other. However, you later found yourself eating in the same hall cafeteria…and then the same hall pantry…and then, it clicked. You two lived only four doors away from each other in your university hall. 

Needless to say, you two ran midnight McDonald trips basically on a weekly basis. You became integral to Jisung’s daily routine; from waking each other up for breakfast to storming into each other rooms, armed with complaints and rants about the shitty professor who made you read 300 pages for one night. Even on your busiest days, you two would always pick each other up for the hall provided breakfasts and dinners. 

So here you were - Jisung was slouching down on your desk chair while you were resting on the bed, your back against the wall and a pillow in your lap as you tried to help Jisung solve his current problem. “Well…did Chenle give you a prompt or anything?” 

Jisung shook his head, groaning back. “It’s not like we have a kitchen to try and bake either! We only have fridges and a microwave and a….” He tried to recall what was on the floor pantry. 

“Just a fridge and a microwave.” You added. “That means pastries are off the table…how about a drink?” 

Jisung groaned again. “I have a hard time making pre-made coffee!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle; you remembered that day. It was a scary time for you; your credit card company sent you a text about a fraudulent use of your student account. Not only did you end up stressing to the point of crying, but you also learned it was a false alarm. Luckily, while still reeling from the anxiety inducing news, you ran into Jisung as he was leaving his room. He then took you to the pantry to try and cheer you up with coffee…however, a fire alarm went off and practically deafened the whole university housing cohort for hours. 

And poor Jisung…Jisung was just an awkward little mouse, trying to look innocent as he saw his exhausted neighbors clamber out into the park due to his attempt of making pre-made coffee. 

“Well…you have me. This isn’t hopeless.” Climbing off the bed, you pretended to dust yourself off. “So, let’s go to the pantry? Another one of our…”

Jisung quickly furrowed his brows, interjecting while you still spoke “I don’t think this can be considered snacking…”

“Pantry-time dates.” You stuttered, obviously unsure of the title. Usually, you call them ‘cup noodle dates’ or ‘popcorn dates’; a joke that ran through your small group of friends as well as the resident advisors at the university hall. 

No one likes being in the pantry. Especially the second floor. For one, things always get stolen; from cutlery to a six pack of coke. Secondly, the few times people use the microwave to heat up their meals, they tend to leave the leftovers to rot on the windowsill. But you and Jisung sit there together; maybe because something about it feels open and comfortable, despite the terrible smell. Plus…the two of you placed bets on who could be the thief when people awkwardly clamber on by, and if on one of these ‘dates’ you catch the thief obviously taking something that isn’t theirs? Even better. 

But today… you two will have to be the forsaken thieves. 

“So someone put chocolate powder in the fridge…” You commented incredulously, especially as this fridge is known for freezing things into ice in minutes. “There’s some…expired milk.” Jisung watched as you searched through the fridge for any hidden treasures; feeling more and more unsure of himself as you listed more and more ingredients. “Oh, okay, some non-expired milk. That will be useful.” 

“We can make a latte?” Jisung offered, now on his phone searching up popular café drinks. 

“Yes!” You enthused, finally feeling like this trip to the pantry isn’t useless after all. “But…we should probably write an apology note to the people we’re stealing from.” 

It’s been almost five hours in the pantry. Countless of people came in (however, this time you tried not to place bets as you knew who the real thieves were tonight) and would just stare at the two of you, arguing over a kettle of milk. Even your neighbor Victor came in; having sat and watched you two for a good while (which made Jisung extra cautious; he’s had a theory about him being the forsaken pantry thief for a while). Victor, however, said you two should have a cooking show, to which you scoffed while Jisung basked in the compliment. This very same compliment crossed Victor off of Jisung’s “potential criminals” list. 

Eventually, you had a drink in front of you. A chocolate latte that Jisung insisted on putting salt in, as “Modern Family said it was a good idea”. Admittedly, the first ten versions of this drink were absolute failures; making you go to the bathroom numerous times to vomit out the thick and almost flour-like texture.  

So, for your final check, the two of you grabbed the non-eaten pastries Jisung brought home from the café. Hopefully, this will act as a palette cleanser; especially since tasting all of the failed drinks probably have messed with your taste buds and lowered all sorts of expectations. 

After taking bites into the Suh-ndwitch and Henpretzel, you two finally took sips of the drink you attempted to make since 10pm – with Jisung making far too many references to the Powerpuff Girls opening theme. 

Alas – the taste that flooded their senses wasn’t at all bad, no. Nor was it ‘a little bit of sugar and everything ice’, but it was something you’d expect from Starbucks. You two immediately squealed out of excitement, ignoring the fact that you probably woke the neighboring rooms up at three in the morning. Jisung immediately went over to hug your waist, spinning you around as fast as he could; before something unexpected happens. 

You felt his lips on yours; tasting like chocolate and leftover ingredients that were remnants from his palette cleanser of a sandwich. The feeling was foreign; you never expected to kiss Jisung. He was your best friend, your neighbour; but his lips were soft…and something about this felt right. 

But then the door slammed opened. A zombie-like RA came in and you two immediately jumped to different sides of the room. “I know you two always do your pantry dates, but…” The RA started, obviously sluggish from being woken up at 3am. “We got noise complaints.” 

Jisung awkwardly coughed, apologized, and ran away; leaving you confused in the corner of the pantry. 

Café Resonance were never busy Friday evenings. People were most likely out pubbing or preparing for their weekends of antics. So when Jisung stormed in with a recipe in hand, he wasn’t afraid to celebrate as loudly as if he had just won the Olympic World Cup. “I got the recipe! Can I please have the job?” He practically pleaded, dropping the piece of paper with messy handwriting and the sample drink you two whipped up again the night prior. On top of the page with chocolate colored stains were the words; “Hamji Choco Latte” with (served hot or cold)  at the bottom.

“A recipe?” Everyone but Haechan and Chenle looked confused; with the latter two smirking in the corner of the room. But as soon as Haechan cracked and let out a loud laugh, Mark turned around and immediately recognized the culprits of this misunderstanding. 

“Bruh,” Chenle let out throughout his charming ‘dolphin laugh’, “You had the job – I was just messing with you.” 

Haechan pouted, approaching Jisung to ruffle his hair. “My sweet, small, dumb idiot…how much I love you.” He placed a sloppy kiss at the corner of his head, making Jisung immediately try to scrub it off. 

Jisung scowled, upset he let himself get fooled by his best friends. “At least I got a girlfriend from it…” He mumbled, more to himself, but forgetful of how Jeno’s ears can pick up on anything. It was from my ASMR stint, Jeno would say. 

“WHAT!?” He exclaimed, as if Jisung getting a girlfriend would happen the day pigs would fly. 

“I sent you to make a café recipe, not a love potion!” Chenle cackled even more; while his fellow friends made him explain what happened. 

By the time the store closed, Jaemin gave Jisung the ‘talk’ and warned that although they spent nights in each other’s rooms before, Jisung and you must be ‘safe’ and ‘protected’. 

People always say the first people you become friends with at university don’t always stay friends for life. People tend to clash, find their hobbies, and go different ways. But Jisung was lucky. He met you; his best friend and now his other half. And despite the annoying prank Chenle made that wasted hours of your time, Chenle was right; the Hamji Choco Latte was basically a love potion as it brought the hidden infatuation you had for each other to light.  

Now, every time he picks you up from your lecture hall, he brings one extra-large chocolatey drink to share. 

“Email sent out to residents of NCU Hall: 

Dear residents of the second floor, 

The person who has been stealing cultlery and food has been identified. Victor Cho will be coming by to return any items that may have belonged to you.”

Jisung screamed at the top of his lungs when he got this email. “I TOLD YOU SO!” 

[solecize]

                         01. “THE FIRST RACE”

summary: the city of seoul has been poisoned with the violence of greed and gang warfare. this takes a toll on your father, the police chief, and you start assisting him in the office for your year off. unfortunately, this means you have to deal with the new hothead detective, nakamoto yuta, who gives your father hell and even more so to the shadows with a need for speed that only come out at the ungodly hours of the night. the line between good and bad become blurred amidst the adrenaline rush of it all. you learn more about seoul’s underground and encounter these ghostwriters living in the luster of lights and overdrive —all while getting caught up in a cruel plot beyond the world of street racing. pairing: reader/? featuring: t7s line + yuta warnings: foul language

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the unknown to come, but your entire life flashed before your very eyes. it tasted like the sea salt waters of your mother's town and the bitter liquid that you've been stinging your throat with all night,—hell, week—long. you saw ruby blood oil paints slathered across a canvas, kissing the touches of ivory underneath. the rumbling anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach didn’t like it when mark drove into the not-so-friendly part of the city. you especially didn’t like it when he pulled off to a side road that was barely even a road, barren of streetlights and seemingly leading into a tunnel of darkness. the infinite, screaming lights of seoul disappeared and in exchange came the rustling crickets of the dim outskirts. then, the deep song of car engines sputtering filled your ears—wait, no. that wasn't in your head. it was happening.

“i told you trust me.” a devilish grin spread across mark's face, the same one he wore in your elementary school memories.

the narrow street once occupied with nothing, just in the blink of an eye, teemed with cars from both sides. it was mobbed with cars, even. glowing paints gleamed in the moonlight, countless with obnoxious paint jobs and designs and decals that wore out your eye. clusters of individuals clung onto and around the area, some showcasing whatever they had under their car hoods or their interiors. a crowd, even, all lost in the glister of the night and their vehicles to the assorted beats coming from too many radios to hear even one song.

your lips parted in at the sight. when mark asked if you “wanted to check out something cool,” this was not what you expected.

after all, this was mark lee. mark, who once literally saved a cat stuck in a tree. mark, who you trusted enough to pet sit your elderly cats. mark, your childhood best friend who was the typical boy next door with a heart of gold. 

“it’s pretty cool, right?” mark’s eyes were clouded with pure bliss, as he looked out to the surroundings.

when you caught him leaving the bar early that night, which he had never done while out with your group of friends, you thought he was leaving to go home or something. following him out to catch a ride, you figured you had nothing to lose when he asked you if you wanted to see “something real sick.” probably a new food spot, knowing him. you obliged and got into his car, as he raved on about this surprise he was going to show you.

mark said, “welcome to tonight’s run. now, this,” he parked into what seemed like the last empty spot, “is freakin’ awesome.”

“what the hell is this?” though you were still tipsy, the shock of the view around you sobered your sense up like a sponge. 

“i just said, tonight’s run.” he gave you a ‘duh’ look and pushed his car door open. “way better than the usual bar hopping we’ve been doing!”

you scowled and followed suit, despite a stiffness to your muscles when realizing that you’d have to enter this environment. “hey, i happen to like my mindless bar hopping. it distracts me from my—”

“—meaningless, dead-end life, yeah, come on now.” mark helped you out of his pickup truck by extending a hand and closing the door behind you.

looking around, you weren’t sure if you were really seeing what was in front of you. then, several cars, a blaze of rainbows, zoomed right past you by just a few feet. you yelped, whipping your head to watch them go faster than you’d ever seen a car go. just in a matter of half a second, they became specks in your line of vision. meanwhile, others whooped and cheered along at the sight.

“i. . .didn’t realize you were into this kind of thing.” you weren’t sure what to say, still completely boggled at what was happening. 

upon seeing him, several individuals started greeting him and shaking hands with mark. mark clearly had a place in this scene. you did not, by the way some people were giving you an odd side glance for being at his side. 

mark crossed his arm, chuckling. “with all due respect, we haven’t talked in years. i mean, i missed you, that’s why i reached out to you when i found out you moved back to seoul last month,” he assured, “but, this shit? it’s been like my other life for as long as i can remember, dude.”

you forced a smile, trying to understand. he was right. you’d only just moved back to seoul not that long ago after years away with your mother in a different country. it’d been that way since the divorce, until things got strained between the two of you and you decided it would be best to move back to the city to be near your aging, stressed father. 

he said. “just stay for a bit. numb your brain with something that isn’t alcohol,” mark was joking, but you still rolled your eyes at him. 

“oh, stop, you make me sound like a party animal.”

“we’ve been going out to bars every day since you started helping your dad in his office,” mark retorted. “it’ll be fine, picasso.”

that was his nickname for you, a fine arts major back in college, and normally you hated them, but you let this one slide once. 

you attempted to reason. “because my life sucks.”

“yeah, whatever, it’s just because you’re like every other university grad that can’t find a job,” mark shrugged. “and i know you’re trying to shed the good girl thing by partying every night, but—”

he was partly right. you never really wanted to move back to seoul and maybe you were trying to show off to your dad that you were no longer “his little girl” anymore or whatever. however, considering you were still stuck having to help him at work, it wasn’t going as planned.

scrunching your nose at him, “excuse me—”

then, someone called mark’s name. a lanky shadow sporting sunny yellow air force 1s and a matching bandanna tied around his head approached the two of you. the smallest of his movements were smooth and slick, as he if was floating on air and he owned this sky. 

“hey, ten,” mark grinned and gave a quick hug to the other male. 

looking up close, the male was quite handsome. there was a certain glow about him that was rare in people and you couldn’t seem to look away. clad in black leather and gold jewelry all over, you were sure that you’d be terrified of him and his good looks if it weren’t for the bright, calming smile that adorned his lips.

‘ten’ didn’t even notice your presence, much less acknowledge it. “you ready? it’s gonna be a big one.”

“of course,” he scoffed in response, then his eyes darted towards you. “oh, by the way, i want you to meet—”

but, ten’s attention was already whisked away to the next crowd, making a beeline for whatever else called for it. everything seemed to gravitate towards him. what a character.

mark scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “sorry about ten, he’s a ball of energy. doesn’t stay in one place for too long.”

“it’s fine,” you shook your head and begun to look around more. “um, so what am i supposed to do here?”

mark smiled as if he was waiting for you to ask. "promise me to stay right here,” he pointed to the pavement beneath your feet, “like, this exact spot and don’t move.” eyebrows raised with his hands in the air, he was dead serious.

you blinked. “what?”

before you could process the request, mark was already scurrying away. you tried calling his name, but he either ignored you or couldn’t hear your yells over the booming music in the atmosphere. 

it was no longer fear that you felt, but more so, confusion. looking around, this was clearly not a place for you. there were few females, but the only ones around were barely wearing clothes and seemed to only serve as arm candy to be strung along by racers. racers was the correct term, right? people going out of their way to gather and watch cars drive by didn’t appeal to you at all. you weren’t even sure how they could do all of this without the police catching them right away. 

the confusion slowly turned into intrigue when the same foreign song of roaring car engines returned from the near distance. the buzz grew louder and in a flash, rose gold glowed before your very eyes first. then came the rest of the ridiculously bright cars, though by a sizable distance. 

they all halted right after crossing the distinct white line drawn onto the ground and emerged from the first car was a man who was instantly welcomed by cheers. he couldn’t have been that much older than you, a clean mop of silver resting on his head and wearing plain, loose fit clothing. despite looking the most mundane out of all the other racers, his car was easily the most expensive looking at first glance. 

“taeyong, you the man!” someone yelled from the crowd, which initiated a chant.

the last person to exit their car was a six foot something tower, beefy in every aspect, and had a multicoloured sleeve etched into his right arm. he marched right over to taeyong, a fury in every step he took. the crowd parted like the red sea for the goon.

“hey, jo,” taeyong greeted casually, a boredom behind his eyes. 

then, the unexpected happened. the big, burly monster began to shake. if you squinted hard enough, you could see the tears forming at his eyes. the people surrounding them began to laugh at the sight. you wanted to, on the account of just how ridiculous it looked, but you felt a tug at your heartstrings for the guy.

jo tried reaching out for taeyong’s hand, which he brushed off. “please, taeyong! sir, i’ll do anything!” he wailed. “please! just let me keep my car—”

“you shouldn’t have wagered a pink slip then, dumbass.” he sighed, ramming his shoulder when he walked past jo. 

right behind him was a woman with cropped, strawberry blonde hair and cat-eye sunglasses perched low upon her nose. she sipped on a bottle of amber liquid in one hand and immediately snatched jo’s car keys out of his grasp with her other. the woman dangled them in the air, mockingly, and the crowd whooped in response. 

“miyeon, take it back to the garage.” taeyong asked her.

she rolled her eyes. “no shit.” and walked away right after, hopping into the car that jo was once in.

watching this from the sidelines, you were in awe of what you just witnessed. the whole ordeal seemed to happen so quickly for something as serious as losing your car.

meanwhile, taeyong finished collecting rolls of bills from the other untriumphant racers, he began making his way through the crowd and you realized he was coming in your direction, you thought about moving, but you remember what mark asked of you and you weren’t really sure of where else to go.

his eyes flickered up and met yours for the briefest of moments. then, as if something clicked in his mind, taeyong gazed back at you. the intensity created a stiffness in your joints and you couldn’t move. 

behind him, the crowd dispersed back to their former places, making room on the road again. they swarmed the sidewalk, creating clumps around you. however, despite being lost in the other faces, taeyong continued to stare at you.

“hi.” you managed to choke the word out, unsure of you should have said anything, but the atmosphere began to grow too weird for your taste.

taeyong’s expression hovered and the ferocity faded slightly with the introduction of a small smile. “sor-sorry, i was trying to figure out if i’ve ever seen you before.” the stammer threw you off guard, watching him tug at a earring dangling from his left ear. “i know basically everyone who regularly shows up to a run.”

“yeah, i figured from everyone chanting your name that you’re pretty well known,” you responded and felt the corners of your lips quirk up.

“did you enjoy the show, then?” he cocked an eyebrow.

honestly, you weren’t sure what to make of the entire thing. “the race or that last part?” you still felt bad about the other guy losing his car, but it must be a common occurrence in this kind of scene.

meanwhile, people began to turn down their car stereos, quieting the surroundings. someone yelled something about “5 minutes until we’re in the clear”  and you could feel some sort of anticipating wafting in the air, something you never felt before.

taeyong chuckled softly. "so, it’s your first time here, then?” he asked. “just guessing, but you didn’t plan to come here, tonight, did you?” he gestured to your outfit, a plain turtleneck and jeans. it was a far cry from everyone else’s attire, showing off their expensive fashion brands and chains. 

you snorted. “no. my friend brought me here after we had a few drinks and this was the last thing i expected.”

“a friend?” taeyong said, but he tore his eyes away to the road, where a new line of cars began creeping up to the line. “oh, looks like the last race of the night’s about to start. i was gonna leave, but this one looks like it’s gonna be a good one.” he glances at the lavish, rose gold watch on his wrist. 

then, you saw him, you didn’t recognize him at first, lounging in the driver’s seat of a baby blue vintage vassalo convertible, but upon further inspection, it was definitely mark. the car was certainly not the plain suv that the two of you arrived in, a beauty queen of a vehicle and unlike what you’ve ever seen before. he was the second last one to pull up to the line and he scanned the crowd, immediately finding your eyes. mark waved wildly with a grin and although you found it ridiculous, you waved back.

“oh, you came here with mark, of course.” taeyong leaned against a flickering streetlight. “he floats a lot, can be seen everywhere with all types of people.”

“yeah, he’s always been that way,” you shrugged, “i never really thought that this whole scene was a thing, so i was really surprised when he took me here.”

the sound of an engine chorus punctured your eardrums in the blink of an eye, loud and unforgiving. someone walked right in front of the cars, just in between two, and his arm rose in the arm. the excited chatter grew all around you.

“GO!” yelled the man, slicing his arm through the air and just like that, all of the cars surged by. whizzing by in the matter of a second, you could barely catch your breath before realizing that they were all gone.

a new voice emerged from nearby. “the job’s done, boss. jaehyun just came back with it.”

it was a man about the same age as taeyong, tugging on his arm and attempting to speak discreetly. however, you close enough to the two of them to be able to hear their conversation. taeyong simply nodded in silence and they continued watched the race from a far distance.

“who’s this?” the mystery man inquired, noticing your presence. he was cute at first glance with naturally innocent eyes, but the tone playing on his tongue was too intimidating to stick to such a mood.

taeyong said, “mark brought her here. uh,” he smiled apologetically, “sorry, we didn’t even exchange names.” you gave it to him and nodding, he opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the other.

“welcome to seoul’s racing scene! i’m doyoung,” doyoung’s vibe completely shifted, as he enthusiastically shook your hand, which you did not offer. “and this is taeyong, but you already knew that by now.” at that, he rolled his eyes, but you heard no such denial of the statement.

then, before you knew it, you could taste the gas in the air and the sweet melody of a car’s buzz returned. to your shock, it was a whirl of baby blue that crossed the finish line first. curiously, the last car that finished was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, creating an ugly barricade around its pretty matte red paint. it had floundered its way back, barely moving in a straight line, and a clear dent was evident on the rear end of the car.

mark jumped out of his car with one of the biggest smiles ever painted across his lips. taeyong and doyoung moved forward to congratulate him, as you trailed behind and still unsure of yourself. they both gave mark a fist bump and you wanted to go in for a hug, but the celebration was cut short by the deafening slam of a car door, followed by a fist to mark’s hood.

“what. the. fuck. was. that.”

a six foot tower appeared out of the banged up car, steam coming out of his ears and red in his eyes. you all jumped at the noise and you especially shriveled up in fear upon noticing this new person. you saw the way a flicker of worry shone in mark’s eye, but he tried to compose himself and didn’t let it show.

“the hell you talkin’ about, johnny?” mark shot back, getting right up in the other man’s face and attempting to size him up. 

it honestly looked a little funny, but you snapped out of it quickly.

johnny rammed his finger into mark’s chest, poking it and looking at him dead in the eye. the spectators began to back up, some due to safety concerns and others taking out their phones to record. that’s when you realized that you of all people should get the hell away. you would be dead if you were caught in the frame.

he growled. “you son of a bitch, you fuckin’ cheated out there!” johnny spat and at this, doyoung stepped forward.

doyoung said, “woah, woah, woah!” he attempted to gently come in between them. “can we all just calm down for a second?”

as if there was no one around but him and mark, johnny grabbed the shorter male by the collar. “admit it!”

an army marched through your chest. what the hell was happening? your hand hovered over your phone in your back pocket, in case things were to escalate.

mark was barely able to shove johnny away. “get your fucking hands off me!” he sent pleading eyes to doyoung, who then tried to whisper reason into johnny.

while johnny was briefly distracted, mark zipped towards you and tugged at your sleeve. “you have to go.”

“what?”

“seriously, this is not gonna end well and i don’t want you here when it does,” he grimaces. “this wasn’t supposed to happen when i brought you here, i’m so sorry—”

you scrunched your eyebrows together. “mark!”

“—taeyong, shit, can you do me a favour and take her home? i’ll owe you one, i swear to god.” mark ignored you and turned to the white haired male to just met.

taeyong said, “don’t worry about it, brother.” the answer came instantly and a nod of appreciation was exchanged by the two of them.

turning to you, mark pat your head. “i’m sorry again, i can’t drive you home tonight. go with taeyong, you’ll be safe with him.”

a shock of nostalgia overcame your senses, as you recalled the times when mark would give you his umbrella when you didn’t have one, as the two of you walked home from school. there was also the time when he taught you how to roller blade and helped you back up every time you fell. he was always that friend in your life and remembering these moment settled a feeling of comfort in your skin.

“okay.” that was all taeyong needed to grab you by the hand and lead you through the swamp of people. 

some glanced at the two of you oddly, but you tried your best to keep your head down. after seeing the amount of phones recording, there was no way you were going to let yourself be seen any further than you may have already been. shouting developed from where you left mark, but you tried to not look back.

“taeyong, where the hell are you going?” someone said and the two of you halted momentarily. “i thought you wanted to see the—”

“i’ll just meet you back at the garage, jaehyun.” taeyong responded. 

the man cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. he was sitting on the hood of a car with the ten guy that you saw earlier, seemingly watching the situation from a distance. they both looked at you with questioning eyes, but taeyong already began walking away.

you came across the same gorgeous rose gold car that taeyong drove in the earlier race, still sparkling underneath the dingy streetlight. he came forward and opened the door for you.

“um, thanks,” you mumbled, as you got into the passenger seat of the car, which you now recognized to be a hirose model, the same kind your dad drove.

the inside of the car smelled brand new and you easily settled into the leather seat, a clean white hue. though, the car’s control system at the front, was unusual. it was clearly modified, with dozens of switches and controls that definitely did not come with a car. even the steering wheel was adorned with a few buttons, all labelled by different letters. 

taeyong appeared at the other side, jumping into the driver’s seat with ease.

“you like her?” it took you a second you process that he was referring to his car.

you snorted. “you’re one of those people?”

he rammed his key in and the engine purred to life, beginning to gracefully pull out of the parking spot with speed. “what are you talking about?”

“one of those people who refer to their cars as a ‘her?’“ you replied. you found it a little humourous, sure, but you also needed to break the silence.

taeyong chuckled. “yes, is it that weird?”

eventually, the loud music and clusters of people began to fade away, until the two of you were back on the narrow, dark road that mark took you to. the road felt different and a calm spread over you this time. 

“is it part of the whole ‘street racer’ thing?” you asked.

he shook his head. “nah, probably just a me thing.” taeyong leaned forward slightly and tapped on the custom screen positioned where a radio should’ve been. with a few more clicks, soft lo-fi music filled the car. 

for the next while, it was all you heard. the two of you sat in silence, strangely enough, until you were no longer on the outskirts of the city. the stupid city lights came into sight once again, as did other traffic. the ride was definitely faster than before, most likely attributed to your lack of a drunken state and fear.

you pulled out you phone from your back pocket and gaped at the time shown on the screen. “holy fuck, it’s five in the morning?” 

“is it?” taeyong tapped again at the monitor in front of you and 5:14 AM shone bright in red.

time flew by like it was nothing. it seemed like you were just putting on the finishing touches to your hair at eight o’clock earlier that evening. you’d met up with mark and your friends around that time and after that, everything faded into one. 

you groaned, leaning your head back in agony when you realized what awaited you in just a few hours. taeyong noticed this and chuckled.

“let me guess, early morning shift?”

scoffing, you replied. “and i’m not even getting paid for it. fuck.” the fact that you had to trudge back to the station for nine sharp felt like a slap to the face. 

taeyong said, “what? don’t bother showing up then.” the car came to a red light and he turned to you and looked at you—like, really looked at you. there wasn’t a hint of fatigue in his eyes and you were amazed. 

“i’m just helping my dad out,” you shrugged. 

the conversation should’ve flown after that, but you heard the unmistakable wail. just a few cars back. the sirens cried and the bright lights stung your tired eyes. at the realization, your stomach dropped seven feet beneath the ground. you felt as though something was crawling up your spine and the back of your arms and legs. this had to be a joke.

looking at his mirrors, taeyong cursed. “are you kidding me?”

you still couldn’t move. this was likely your end. your breath grew sharp and a sweat broke out on your palms. 

he turned to you, though eyes kept darting back to the red light. “will you trust me?”

“what?”

“i said, will you trust me! we’re running out of time here!” you saw the way his eyes softened right after, as if he didn’t mean to yell, but adrenaline coasted through his entire body.

you had no choice. “OKAY, OKAY!” you hollered back, not knowing what was going to happen next.

in one motion, taeyong sent the car flying through the air with a ridiculous turn. that was the last thing you remembered when you woke up that morning at ten thirty. sunlight streamed through your translucent curtains, biting at your still closed eyes. your head was pounding louder than any speaker you encountered the night before, completely overtaking your ears and you let out a painful cry. 

burying yourself back underneath your thick sheets, the pounding still continued. what the fuck happened? you were still in your clothes from last night, evident by the atrocious smell coming from your sweater and the uncomfortable denim fabric clinging to your sweaty skin. you must’ve come home drunk or something, but how?

slowly, fragments appeared before your eyes. you heard the hum of a car engine. you remembered the face of a white haired man. the strongest one was of a police siren, bringing your ears to the verge of blood. 

without emerging from the covers, your single hand shot up from underneath, feeling around your bedside table for your phone. you had to text mark about this crazy dream. however, when you instead picked up the keys for a hirose X9, a car that definitely did not belong to you, you choked at the revelation that the crazy street racing dream you had was in fact, not a dream.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt, pt.6 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan finds out about Y/N.

Warnings: ANGST, swearing, talk of depression and blood and miscarriage

Word Count: 2300

Hurt - Series Masterlist

There are moments in life when time stands still. When great fear and anxiety arise, our brain and body tends to shut down to protect ourselves from the trauma.

For Y/N, it felt like every time she opened her eyes she found herself someplace new.

First, it was on the porch, tucked into Grayson’s arms as he carried her away. She couldn’t hear much aside from the pain that spread through her stomach or the ringing in her ears. She felt his chest vibrating as he spoke but nothing resonated with her. She clung to his scent, the woodsy, grass-like smell he and Ethan would have after being outside all day for it had comforted her.

Second, she was in the back of the car, her vision blurry and her mind hazy.

Third, she was in the hospital. She couldn’t say or do much, but she knew what she needed.

“Henstridge. Doctor Henstridge.” Once the nurse nodded, she allowed herself to close her eyes. It was just enough to keep her strength, to rest up and focus on her surroundings. But she didn’t really want to. She didn’t want to hear them say she’s lost the babies.

There is an infinite amount of things she’d offer the universe for her children to be safe, but none could compare to the guilt she felt. After all, her initial thought was to end the pregnancy when she learned of it. Was this her punishment? Was it a way to tell her she had caused it? Now when she accepted this unexpected change? Now when she loved them?

And where is Ethan? Why does he seem to be gone whenever things go wrong in her life? He started the fire and he didn’t stick around to watch his work as everything she is made of burned to crisp.

She managed to survive losing him, but losing the babies? She didn’t want to survive that.

“So, what now?” Grayson sighed as doctor Henstridge concluded his exam.

Y/N had begun coming to, something she’ll be very thankful for later on because the last thing she wanted is for Henstridge to be the one conducting the exam. She just wanted his expertise, his presence as a way to anchor herself. He was more than helpful the first time around.

“I gave her some medication and we’ll run some tests. She has to stay in bed, with no stress.” Edward turned to her, noticing her eyelids are moving but the medication he put her on would keep her out of it for a while. He was sure of it.

In a sense, Edward wasn’t able to face her right now. She was pretty panicked when they first brought her in, pale and crying. He could tell she wasn’t quite there in a sense, it was more of an instinctual reaction. He felt as if he had failed her. He felt as if he should have seen this coming, especially with the stress of a divorce looming over her head. He hadn’t even talked to her since she came to get her stitches removed a week ago. He was aware he needed to create some distance between them for he had become too attached, but now he wondered if it had hindered his ability to do his job.

Sighing, Edward rubbed his chin.

“I suggest you prepare yourself for everything. Just be there for her. Let her know she’s not alone.”

As Henstridge left, Grayson found himself unable to move. He watched her chest rise and fall and he saw just how frail she is for the first time in a long time. He knew Ethan asked him to stay away, but he couldn’t honor his wishes tonight. Grayson had to see his brother. Lucky for him, Ethan was just three floors down.

“Why are you here?” Ethan didn’t hide his animosity, irritated by Grayson’s visit. He needed time alone and he couldn’t focus on healing when Grayson reminded him of all the things he had done wrong and the woman he had broken because she dared to love him more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

While he’s learned how to recognize intrusive thoughts and to differ them from his own, Ethan was still very much emotionally tortured. He still carried too much guilt and anger and so much sadness than he could take. He prayed his antidepressants would work soon, knowing it takes about a month to start feeling the effect. He had circled the date on the calendar, knowing it would probably be the day he gets to leave and see his wife and hopefully begin building his life back up.

That’s why he needed time alone and why he had been anything but happy about his brother’s unexpected visit just before his evening session.

“Y/N is back in the hospital. Something happened.” Grayson didn’t bother sparring with him, wanting to get it all out in the open. It was pretty clear Grayson felt out of sorts as he picked at his nails and chewed on his bottom lip mercilessly. He was always the anxious type.

“She was bleeding and in pain, so I brought her in. She’s at risk of a miscarriage and they have her on all sorts of pills and IVs and they’re talking about stitching her cervix and she’s so weak and vulnerable and she is carrying your kids!” Grayson got progressively louder, his emotion overcoming him. While he tried to give Ethan time he asked for, Grayson knew this would have gone so much smoother or could have been possibly avoided had Ethan not been so secretive about how bad he got. Had he just been open with one of them, none of the bad would have happened.

“Kids?” Ethan stood, the blood rushing to his head despite his pale appearance.

“Triplets, E. And she’s scared to death. She just checked out…even when she was conscious she wasn’t there. I’m scared of what will happen if she loses the babies.” Grayson’s voice cracked, his head between his hands as he swallowed tears.

“I want to see her.” Ethan walked past Grayson, very aware of the irregularities of his leave. He didn’t care, not when Y/N was all alone in a hospital bed with not one, but three of his babies inside her. She is scared and she is lost and he’s probably the last person she’d want to see, but he has to see her. Just for a moment.

With a pass his psychiatrist lent him, Ethan and Grayson returned to her room, but Grayson didn’t come in. He let his brother have this moment.

When Ethan saw her, the very sight of her had frightened him. She laid unconscious in a hospital bed, her usually rosy cheeks now pale, her soft lips cracked where her teeth broke skin in an attempt not to scream. Her bed was tilted so the head would be lower than her waist, probably a gravity thing to keep the babies in place.

Ethan walked closer, so quiet in fear of waking her. He didn’t know what he’d say if she did open her eyes. He didn't even know would she want him here, by her side. A part of him found the thought of her opening her eyes and telling him she hates him destructive, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He lowered his eyes to her abdomen, tilting his head to see if it grew already, but it wasn’t likely just yet. It’s been three months since their last time, she would start showing soon, but not tonight. Ethan wasn’t going to be graced with a small bump, he knew.

Reaching out, Ethan had his mind set on placing his palm on her stomach – carefully, very tenderly. His hand is shaky, hovering above but he can’t seem to put it down. You see, he was afraid. Ethan thought even a light touch of a father’s loving hand would be enough to harm his children – the kids he always wanted and always with her – just her.

“I know how badly I messed up.” He speaks so quietly that the words can’t be heard easily. Not by anyone who could be listening in. “When the guilt comes it takes me down the old familiar path. I want to refuse to walk it, pretend that I am the person I demand that I be – your husband, the man you fell in love with. I want to be who you need me to be, but I’m still so damn torn apart by my own mind and a big part of me is ashamed I let it get so bad…that I let myself hurt you in the process.” Ethan sniffles, retracting his hand. He couldn’t touch her. Not without her permission, not even if it wasn’t sexual. He lost that right.

“I’m going to make things right. Even if you never forgive me, I want to be a good dad. I want them to know I’ll do my best to be what my dad was to me.” Ethan sighed heavily, trying not to cry.

“Even when I’m not here, my mind is on you. Always is.” Ethan turned to walk away, gasping once icy cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was a loose fit, a small act of desperation of a girl who struggled so hard to open her eyes to see him – the man she had been missing all along. Even if she was completely certain he’s just a mirage, she wanted to keep this hallucination going.

“Same here. Infinity times infinity, remember?” She smiled meekly, remembering the day they got matching tattoos.

“You sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine forever.” Ethan chuckled, pecking her lips as she nodded. She grasped his hand tighter when the needle first pierced her skin, her wrist burning with the painful sensation. But she had his hand to hold and the infinity times infinity sign had always been theirs – something they could now share.

“Same goes for you, hotshot.” She smiled through the pain, licking her lip. Not only did they both consider number 8 as their lucky number throughout their lives, but they’ve met on August 8th, got engaged on August 8th and planned to get married on the same date. It wasn’t just a coincidence anymore, but they absolutely adored each other and they wanted to make the symbol mean something.

“I’m fine with that. You’re my infinity times infinity – because that’s how much I love you. And that’s how long I’ll love you.”

“Of course I do.” Ethan couldn’t help but smile, noticing her tattoo under the faint lamplight. She had always managed to captivate him, even now when she looked like she stood on death’s doorstep.

“I hope to share that love with our babies too. All three of them.” Ethan clasped her hand in his, a little braver now. He wanted to warm her up, be her sun in this moment of need.

“Now I’m sure you’re a mirage. The Ethan I’ve seen lately would have said they aren’t even his.” Her smile dropped, but her eyes remained on his. “He’d say I’m a whore or something worse.” Her tone is defeated, her voice breaking, her eyes watering.

Ethan didn’t know what to say. He was shocked she saw him that way. Had he really crossed so many lines she’d expect the worse of him? Because he never had any doubt those kids are his – not even for a moment.

“Do you really think that low of me?” He managed to utter, his heart-shattering. There is a mental tornado in his head, which no-one can see nor comprehend. It seemed unfair that no matter how much he strived to be the man his conscience wanted him to be, it would keep taunting him with his failures. Each time his regrets reemerged he would analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his self-professed remorse, but it never was. Like an unforgiving ghost, it would be back tomorrow to haunt him all over again. He’d see it in her eyes, in her smile and in the way she’d retract her hand from his. He’d feel it in her half-assed hugs and short, polite answers. She’d always remind him of his mistakes, never intentionally. But they’re there and he can’t make them go away.

“I don’t know.” She spoke with a slight disbelieved smiled on her face. “Because, when I wake up in the morning….I hate you. With all I am, I hate you and I curse the day we met and I want to throw acid on my wrist to remove this permanent mark of my love for you…but as the day goes by and my heart softens…I go to bed loving you…mourning you. So, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I think of the Ethan I’ve come to know in the past months. I miss my husband…the one who married me and promised me a lifetime of happiness and love. That I do know.” A tear slipped her eye so quietly, almost disappearing into the pillow unnoticed. Ethan had caught it just before and while it weighs next to nothing, that tear made him feel heavy.

“I miss that guy too.” He whispered, noticing her eyes are opening less and less, her body tired and mentally frazzled. She needed rest.

“I promise to find him for you.” Without restraint, Ethan leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, leaving a warm, longlasting kiss before leaving.

Tags: @melodiesforari @brittttneyyyy @beautorigin  @dolandolll @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @ethanhes @lanadeldolans @ebbach-03 @dolangels  @xxaamzxx @cutestdolans @yaren-ates @dolansmith @vintagebitttch @primadolangirl @caqsicle @jjustjoy @justordinaryjen @graydolan12 @imaginashawnns @graysonslovie @fandomsfeministsandothershit @bdsmdolan @graysavant @ethanspillow @dopedoodes @anything-dolan  @sugarfootdolan @joyrivh @reblogserpent @jonesana @emiemille  @herewegoagainandagainandagain​ @adventureswithmell 

[stylesluxx]

leave me lonely – b.hargrove

[warnings: angst I guess and a tad bit of swearing]

summary: in which billy can’t confess his love for y/n - inspired by leave me lonely by ariana grande

word count: 1,425

masterlist

You and Billy weren’t a known couple. You weren’t trying to keep the relationship a secret but it also wasn’t anyone’s business. With you and Billy agreeing to not tell anyone your business, it was an extremely stress free relationship.

“So, are you and Billy ever going to get serious? Like, he’s seriously hot and if you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Your friend, Lisa, blurted out while you two were studying for your chem test tomorrow.

“Girl, what?” You huffed and looked up at her, squinting your eyes.

“Y/N, I’m kidding, relax. But has he even said ‘I love you’ yet?”

You sat up on her bed and started letting her words get to you. You shrugged, “we’re going at our own pace.”

“Well, do you love him?” She kept pestering, starting to annoy you.

“Yeah, I guess,” You shrugged again, getting uncomfortable.

“Maybe you should initiate it,” She suggested, making you roll your eyes.

“I think I can navigate through my own relationship,” You snipped and started collecting your things, making her look at you in shock.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want you to be happy. You’re like my sister,” Lisa sighed.

“If you want me to happy, then don’t meddle. Let me and Billy be me and Billy,” You told her and walked out her room and out her house.

You left your car at home that day, since Lisa was supposed to drive you home but clearly that’s not going to happen. You started the 20 minute walk home, your head up, trying to pay attention to your surroundings but your head also being in the clouds. This is exactly why you didn’t like people knowing your business; thoughts and worries that weren’t in your head before are stuck and inducing your anxiety.

You kept walking as a car pulled up beside you, making you alert at first until you realized it was your boyfriend.

“What’s a girl as pretty as you doing walking home alone at 10PM?” He teased, causing you to break out into a smile. “Get in the car, pretty girl.”

You giggled and got in the car, putting your seatbelt on. Despite Billy being the most reckless driver you knew, you also knew he wouldn’t purposely put you in danger, but better safe than sorry.

“Seriously though, what were you doing walking home this late? Wasn’t Lisa supposed to bring you home?” He asked, his eyes flickering between you and the road.

“Yeah, we exchanged some words and I left. Nothing too serious, you know how dramatic I am,” You chuckled.

“You are known for your theatrics,” He teased and pinched your cheek.

“Just bring me home, loser,” You swat his hand away.

When he arrived at your house, you grabbed your bag and got ready to give him a kiss and leave, but something stopped you. Maybe curiosity, maybe doubt, but you knew it was planted in your head by Lisa.

“I love you, Billy,” You blurted out. You knew you loved him for a while now but you were waiting for him to say something first. Lisa knocked some sense into you tonight, despite it pissing you off.

“Y/N-“ He started and cut himself off. He looked at you with pity and shook his head, unlocking the car door, indicating that he wanted you to leave.

“I- okay,” You nodded with tears in your eyes. “Goodbye Billy.”

You quickly got out the car and quietly shut the door behind you. You shuffled into the house and ran upstairs to you room, holding your breath. You sat on your bed and looked out the window, waiting for the blue Camaro to speed off into the night. When it did, you let out the shaky breath you were holding in and started bawling. You held your body as you cried yourself to sleep, dreading waking up for school in the morning.

You got in the car the next morning, blasting whatever was on the radio and driving to school in attempt to beat Billy there. You sped into the parking lot almost running over some freshmen but it would’ve all been in vain; Billy beat you to school and was parked right next to your spot. He was leaned against his car, cigarette in hand, beautiful as ever.

You sighed and pulled your Audi Quattro into the spot. You grabbed your bag and quickly got out the car, wanting to get to home room.

“Y/N, wait up, please,” He begged and reached for your arm.

“Billy, no,” You stopped him. “You don’t get to talk to me. You are no good for me, at all. You let me get out your car, heartbroken and did not call for me. You don’t get to pull and tug on my heart. I refuse to let that happen. Now let go Hargrove.”

He let go of your arm and you walked off. A little bit of you expected him to follow after you, and despite what you expected, Billy didn’t chase after you. He left you alone even though his heart hurt like yours. If you love something, give it space and protect from afar; Max taught him that. So he let you be in your space and he watched from afar. He watched you ignore Lisa when she tried to ask what was wrong. And he watched you sit in the back of the classrooms and sleep throughout the lessons. He watched you wake up and wipe the tears you shed in your sleep. And when it was time to go home he watched you snap at Lisa and tell her that she planted these doubts in your mind. He watched you do this everyday until eventually you stopped doing anything. You stopped seeing and hearing those around you and simply became a shell of yourself. And one day you stopped showing up to school. You didn’t appear for a whole week before he decided enough was enough and went to visit you after school.

He drove to your home and knocked on the door. He knocked for a while, until his knuckles were red. That’s when the worry really started to kick in. Of course he was worried this whole time but now he had to put it into actions. He took the spare key from under the mat at the front door and essentially barged into your home. He stormed upstairs and into your room, pulling the covers from over your body and nudging you until you woke up from your slumber.

“Billy?” You croaked out, shocked that he was here.

“Y/N, you need to get a fucking grip,” He told you, sternly and turned on the lights.

“Huh? Why are you here and how did you even get in?” You questioned, sitting up.

“Y/N, get up. Your breath stinks, go take a shower. We’re going out. Get. A. Grip,” He huffed.

“I don’t know why you thought it was okay for you to barge in here and attempt to tell me what to do. We don’t have the same relationship we had a month ago. You can’t do this. You don’t get to do this!” You started raising your voice at him.

“Well you pushed away all your other friends, so your ex boyfriend has to come and snap you back to reality. You’re a real piece of work you know. So dramatic!” He ran a hand through his hair, stressed out.

“Oh, so is that why you don’t love me?” You challenged, standing up from your bed. “Is that what you finally came here to tell me?”

“Oh God, you’re dramatic!” He huffed. “You’re a real idiot if you think I don’t love you. I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t love you. I’d do anything for you. You’re not the only one that’s been miserable. I’ve been hurting too. And it hurts to know I’ve hurt you, all because I can’t bring myself to tell you how I really feel about you. You’re the best thing I’ve ever known and I thought I could get away with not saying it, if I treated you like it. There’s a lot wrong with me and you’ve stuck around, and I love you for that and in general. Thank you.”

You nodded and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“That’s all you ever needed to say,” You told him and buried your face into his neck. “You’re my baby. I love you.”

“I love you. Forever.”

[AN: this is the first time I’ve written about anything stranger things related but I’ve been so into billy recently omg]

[seasaltmemories]

Suffering

Rating: T

Summary: You’re mistaken to believe hate swallows every other emotion.” Slowly he closed the distance between them. “Love and hate are a masochistic pair of dancers, yet they continue twirling around one another all the same." [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

~

Rigel Castle was quiet. After an exciting night of song and dance, it seemed no one had the energy to return back to the land of the living just yet. Few guards remained at their posts, and the ones that did were often, sleeping, drunk, or both. It was a blessing Celica was thankful for, but it did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.

The only things left fueling her plans were desperation and determination. Neither logic nor well-constructed strategies meant anything, anymore. Tonight might be her last chance at freedom, and if she wasted it and got caught then returning to the dungeon might be the least of her worries.

 Earth Mother, guide me please. Don’t let my escape me in vain.

Just then, Celica heard the sound of clear, hurried footsteps. Frantically, she scanned her surroundings for a place to hide. Like the rest of the Rigel Castle, there was a restrained formality that offered little decoration. The only break in its strict design was a large door that laid at the end of the hallway. It made the hair on her body stand on end, but there was no time for second thoughts. As quickly and carefully as she could, she cracked open the door and slide herself inside.

Just as she rested her back against the door, she heard the sound of voices, and like that ever muscle in her body froze.

“Disgraceful!” A low voice scoffed. “Absolutely disgraceful to see Rigelian soldiers like this. Doubt we’ll be able to find enough to form a half-sober platoon.”

“Aren’t you being a little harsh, sir? After the last few days, they’ve earned their relaxation.”

“They’re not done yet though.”

“Excuse me? I thought the Deliverance had already ridden out.”

“Exactly. We’re not done dealing with them yet.” At the news, Celica’s eyes widened in fear. “Like I said, get me the least drunk men you can. We ride out at dawn.”

Something like a scream curled in the back of her throat. Not just because of the footsteps growing louder and louder, almost upon her, nor the bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue, but because of all that had happened since the Rigelians first step foot into Zofia--since this terrible marriage bound her to them in the first place.

I will never go back to that dungeon.  Magic crackled at her fingertips. We all will die before that happens.

But soon the footsteps grew soft again, then completely silent. She was completely alone with nothing but her burning hatred as company.

Before she could dwell on it much longer, she notice that the prickling sensation had not gone away. In fact as Celica examined herself, she found the pain had all concentrated around her brand.

For the first time, she noticed her surroundings were much different now. This part of Rigel Castle felt like neither like its brutal dungeons nor its deceptive residential wings. It seemed...older, less another man-made structure and more as if it had emerged from the earth itself.

A flight of stairs descended before her, yet as she peered over the edge, she could see no bottom. It just extended deeper and deeper into the cave. Every instinct in her body warned against what might wait at the bottom, but her brand seemed to sting even more the closer she got.

What did such a phenomenon mean, Celica couldn’t say. But she wanted to it mean something. That was the only thing she was certain of anymore.

And so she mouthed another her prayer to herself as she ventured down.

Time seemed to elongate, seconds taking minutes to pass. The steeper the stairs grew, the more the brand burned her skin. Soon both facts were all that she was focusing on. What if in reality she was just falling into a giant pit? She usually wasn’t one to doubt her perception so much, but the pain seemed to twist and bend her sight. When she made it to the bottom would she find her limbs broken and mangled for her reckless endeavor?

Just when she was sure the pain in her palm would grow overwhelming, when her courage would finally give way and she’d scramble back to Alm’s room to forget about the attack on the Deliverance and play the good Rigelian wife, she came across a strange cell of sorts.

In the middle of it sat a great skeleton of a dragon with a sword piercing its skull.

“Oh Mila...” Celica murmured to herself.

“You called?”

It took all of her willpower not to shriek as she moved closer to find another dragon lying just out of her initial line of vision. Brown-dried blood stained its scales while feathery wings curled around its body. It had been centuries since she had assumed that form, but could it really be?

“Earth Mother!” Celica’s voice cracked with emotion. Her arm seemed to move with a mind of its own, straining to touch her, yet what little distance she could reach through the iron bars wasn’t enough.

“I’m here, child.” She sighed. “It pains me I can’t take a shape you are more comfortable with, but it really is me.”

After weeks of refusing to cry, it was like the floodgates opened. Celica found herself sobbing like a child again as she collapsed to the floor. There was so much she wanted to say, it all swirled together into a mess of tears. Had Mila heard all the prayers she had offered up, knew the pain and humiliation she had endured in her name? Dragon or no, she wanted to be there with her, pressed against her scales as she babbled away every hidden secret she had carried since the fire.

But no matter how close she was to true peace, Celica knew she couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Slowly, she rose so that she could sink into a proper bow.

“I traversed all of Valentia in search of you, Earth Mother. How may I serve you?”

“You may rise, Anthiese.” It felt strange to hear Mila address her. Outside of the disaster of a honeymoon, she had only visited her once or twice. Her purpose had always been to stand as her father’s daughter rather than an individual, to be seen and not heard as the pageantry and rituals took place before her eyes. “My, you look so much like Liprica now. You’ve blossomed into such a fine lady.”

Celica stiffened. Sometimes even she forgot about her mother’s life before becoming just another wife of her father’s. She had been a sacred and well-respected priestess at Mila’s Temple. To directly serve their goddess was an honor only few ever received. She should have held that position until the day she died.

Yet after her father’s men had kidnapped her in the middle of the night, Mila hadn’t remarked on the situation at all.

“Her sacrifice was a tragedy I grieve to this day,” Mila closed her eyes and paused as she took a labored breath. “But without it, I couldn’t have claimed you as mine.”

“Claimed me?”

“Yes,” With one word it was like a spark had been ignited her eyes. “Neither Duma nor I knew the exact details, but we shared our blood with you humans, for a reason. One day our bloodline would return to save us from our darkest days.”

It was difficult to process such news, but something deep inside of Celica accepted it without question. Her pain and suffering had been for a reason. She wasn’t a failure. Her goddess needed her, specifically. Despite the rush though, she tried to remain calm and level-headed.

“What did they do to you, Earth Mother?” Her gaze drifted back to dragon skeleton with the sword. “Is that--”

“I’ll explain everything to the best of my abilities.” Mila tilted her head towards the other dragon. “That is, indeed, my brother, and that is Falchion. It was a secret weapon he held, back during our quarreling days. If he died against me, then one of his branded could return the favor and avenge him. Only it seems the current emperor has gone mad and fancied himself a god greater than Duma. I don’t know what spurred this betrayal, but I pity my brother all the same.”

“What about the prince?” She found herself interrupting Mila by accident. “Forgive me, but I perceived that he was the one to harm you.”

“He did.” Something like laughter bubbled up from her fangs, but it was as if her body couldn’t form the right sounds. “Poor boy has been twisted from his birth to hate his master and true destiny. He used Duma’s hair and teeth to create a special net to ensnare me. Can you imagine such blasphemy?”

It was only with that information, Celica finally noticed the wires extending from Mila’s body. They were thin, only visible when they caught the light. Usually such trifling things would be easily ignored by a goddess. It had to be something about coming from Duma that did this.

“Why haven’t they killed you too? What twisted purpose would they torture you for?” It felt like she was on the verge of something, like she was slowly putting together a puzzle and just needed a few more pieces, but she still couldn’t quite tell what the picture was.

There was that not-laugh again. Was she trying to smile? Mila was showing teeth, but there was little mirth in the action. “My dear brother isn’t dead. He almost is, but it seems sentiment got in the way at the last minute. Or spite, who can tell? But this is where you can come in and save me.” Mila strained to lean forward, yet could only move a few centimeters. “You are branded. If in his dying breath he gives you permission to wield Falchion, you could cut me free. Nothing else can break these ties. You’re my only hope, Anthiese.”

The weight of her gaze laid heavy on Celica’s chest. As honorable as such a role was, the responsibility was beginning to drown out her previous elation. She was so tired. She didn’t know how many more burdens she could carry before her body gave way.

“Are you sure this is the only choice, I don’t what would make Duma trust me now when I’ve--”

“Don’t question my judgment!” Her sudden roar made Celica flinch. “I apologize,” Quickly Mila lowered her voice. “But you do know what a brand means?” There was that spark again. “Your life is mine. I nursed your ancestors for centuries. As the product of their prosperity, you have no right to refuse me now.” This time, Celica could tell she was indeed trying to smile, although the expression was terrifying on her face. “I believe in you.”

Celica took a deep breath. Mila was right. How selfish could she be to abandon her country and people right at the last minute? If that ambush on the Deliverance was really going to happen, she couldn’t waste anymore time dallying about.

“I’ll do it.” She bowed deep and low to the ground. “I won’t let you down.”

After examining the cell, soon, she had found an entrance. Considering Mila was trapped in her dragon form, it seemed they hadn’t bother to lock a small human-sized door on the other side. When she entered, the size of both dragons took her aback, yet Mila continued to give that fanged grin in encouragement.

“Take Falchion. Then all will be made clear to you.”

As Celica took hold of Falchion, she didn’t know what she expected. Perhaps more pain, or holy fire damning her for touching another god’s sacred weapon.

Well she didn’t know when she closed her eyes, but when she opened them instead she found a tall man standing before her.

He was dressed in Rigelian armor, long green hair done back in a ponytail. Despite lacking any similar facial features to his sister, somehow she recognized him immediately.

“Duma,” Celica whispered. Then realizing her error, she tried to bow while still holding on to Falchion, although of course she couldn’t bow as deeply as she had for Mila, as that would be disloyal to her, yet for some reason she couldn’t see Mila nor Falchion anymore where had they--

“Peace, child.” His deep voice steadied her thoughts.

“War Father,” Celica ducked her head. “I petition you on the behalf of my own patron. Please excuse any sacrilege I might have committed against your Faithful and put aside any old grudges because the only way I can--”

“I said peace, child.” This time there was an edge to his voice. “Although I am in this decaying state, I still have not lost my hearing. I know my sister’s schemes. The only thing I remain ignorant of, is if you are worthy of my judgment or not.”

It took all her willpower to stay standing tall, to keep looking him in the eyes. She didn’t know what was more likely to happen once her nerve gave out, if she would cry or strike him.

“You have the bearings of a warrior, child of peace. That’s not something I’ve seen in many of my kings, much less a pet spoiled on milk and honey.”

“Forgive me War Father,” Before she could stop herself, the words were already slipping past her tongue. “But I don’t recall ever being given milk and honey.”

Red eyes set on her, and for a moment, Celica was certain she’d be vaporized any second. Instead, Duma tilted his head.

“Elaborate.”

“I don’t know what you want to hear, but Jedah talked as if you loved suffering. I’ve had enough suffering just to get to where I am standing now. I don’t wish to suffer more simply for your entertainment.” Alm had been the first to insist that pretty lies had no place in Rigel. Even if that had proven to be a pretty lie in of itself, she wanted to see how their god would fare against a brutal truth.

Duma just continued to study her. “Tell me, child of peace. Do you hate me?”

The question took her aback. “I respected you. Even if Mila guarded Zofia, without you, Valentia would have never survived. I’m grateful for that.”

“Why do you use the past tense?”

“Because when I was forced to pray to you until my voice went hoarse, when my torturers hurt me in your name, I truly did loathe you. Even if you never wanted any of that to happen to me, I can’t help but carry that pain with me when I think of you now. I don’t know which one will win out after this is over.”

“You’re mistaken to believe hate swallows every other emotion.” Slowly he closed the distance between them. “There’s a part of me that still hates my sister, yet the only reason I’ve refused to die yet is in hopes that she might be spared.” As large as he was next to her, there was something in the curve of his lip that seemed to bring him down to her level. “Love and hate are a masochistic pair of dancers, yet they continue twirling around one another all the same."

Something uncomfortable swirled in the pits of her stomach. She did her best to push it down. “So did I fail your judgment?”

“I wanted Prince Albein to wield Falchion so badly.” Duma sighed. “He reminded me so much of Rigel. I thought we might take all of Valentia together. Maybe even dethrone Naga and her precious people.” Whatever vulnerability that had existed before was gone now, replaced with a proud strength that could snap her like a twig if he so pleased. “But I supposed his soul partner shall do. I see fire in your eyes, child of peace. You know how to do what is necessary.” Gently he placed his hand on top of her head.

“I’m putting a lot of trust in you. Once Falchion is unsealed, there will be no going back. Promise me you’ll save my sister.”

“I will.” Celica clasped her hands and brought them to her lips. “I swear on my life.”

“No matter what she says.” The last part startled her, and her confusion must have shown on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough time to explain. Still I always believe even the worst suffering can bring wisdom. I hope it may guide you well.” He turned around, looking at a horizon that didn’t exist. “Is it alright if I close my eyes now? I used to be too stubborn to ever accept peace. Perhaps this old fool still has time to learn.”

In an explosion of light, Duma’s image dispersed. When Celica found herself opening her eyes again, Falchion was free and the skeleton gone.

“I’ll pray for you, War Father.” Celica found herself whispering. “I’ll pray that you learn peace.”

“Good work Anthiese.” Mila’s voice was high and tinny, breaking Celica from her musing. “Now just cut the wires and then everything will be fixed.”

The weight of the sword felt heavier than it should. As she dragged it toward Mila, she tried to assess Duma’s words. Did he believe Mila to have lost all hope? Or perhaps he worried that she might unknowingly drag her own brand bearer into another trap.

“Wait,” Celica slowed to a stop. “Before we start this, there is something you have to know. I have soldiers who could be walking into a trap--”

“None of that will matter once I’m free!” Mila groaned. “Please you’ll understand soon.”

It seemed in this panicked state, there was little reasoning with her. It was selfish of her to not consider how Mila’s pain might cloud her mind just as it had clouded her own in the dungeon. There seemed to be one only one way to dispel the chaos. With a sigh, Celica readied her blade.

Once Mila is free, everything will be fixed.

With a single swing, Celica cut the wires embedded in Mila.

In an instant, she stood on her hindquarters, form shifting rapidly between her full draconic size and a woman of feathers and scales. Every time Celica’s eyes got used to one version, Mila snapped back to a different one, sometimes even ending up stuck in a grotesque half-form. It was only once her mind gave up on processing this did she finally register the guttral scream that remained just as pained and tortured no matter what.

“Oh Earth Mother,” Celica whimpered, not sure if she was calling out to the being in front of her anymore.

“No...I-I expected...this,” Mila croaked out between cries. “I apologize for my deceit.”

A great clawed foot crashed into Celica’s chest as Mila straddled her. Her claws tore through her shirt with ease and laid readied above her skin to do the same thing.

“Mila please, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She pushed uselessly against her leg, unable to escape its weight. “I’m sorry, please forgive me!”

“Your soul is so bright...it’s such a beautiful thing,” Her voice was more gentle than ever, sounding scarily human-like now. “Just one bite won’t hurt,” Her right foot transformed into a human hand, and it gripped Celica’s chin. “Quit squirming and remember your vows, Liprica.”

What followed next shouldn’t have occurred. Falchion had been knocked from her hands and laid out of reach. And even without the lack of touch, enchanted weapons always took a while to master. Arts couldn’t be called from them without intense practice. Yet once Mila grabbed her, Celica felt as if her bones had been turned to gunpowder.

And well Duma had said the fire had been there from the start.

An inferno of red and gold consumed them both. Mila’s cries, their brilliant blaze, it was all drowned out by the blood boiling in her veins. The part of herself aware of what was happening wondered if this is what her siblings had felt in the villa, if they had now bestowed on her combined pain of their deaths as they had slowly burned to ash. Or maybe it wasn’t ghosts, but fate that had paid her a visit. Maybe all the times she should have died had now converged to make sure she couldn’t slip away this time.

The rest of her could only weep in fear.

As quickly as the flame had appeared, it died out soon after. Celica struggled to remain conscious, but darkness blurred her vision. The only thing her eyes could focus on was Mila, now charred and burned as she stumbled back. Yet as she regained her footing, she took off running towards her.

 Oh this is it

The thought came to her with sparkling clarity. Killed by her own goddess, how crueler could the universe get?

Yet right as Mila was about to trample her, she leaped and crashed through the cell bars. A roar filled the tunnels and once it faded away, equal parts dread and relief flooded her body. Soon she could tell her vision would darken completely.

 Seems I’m still the princess who refuses to die...

 I guess even I don’t deserve such kindness.

~

The first thing destiny took from Alm was his dignity.

A servant had barged into his room, and in his half asleep state he had cared little to listen to her. Rather he had frantically pulled at his covers to try and maintain some degree of modesty for him and Anthiese.

But as he reached for her, all he found was empty space.

While stunned, the servant had dragged him out at bed. She was an older matron who between frantic cries scoffed at his bashfulness. Rather than noticing his indecency at all, she kept yelling about a giant beast ravaging the halls.

In an instant, Alm became completely awake.

He sent the servant in search of his sword and armor as he dressed himself, mind whirling with worries. There was so much to consider, where to find Father, if the Duma wires had given way, and if so, would it be worth it to try and pry Falchion out of Duma’s skull for the umpteenth time. But one thought concerned him above all else.

She’s not here. She said she’d stay here.

His first instinct had been to run up to Father’s bedroom, but by the time he made it there, he was nowhere to be found. Anxiety and fear gripped his being. He searched for a servant or guard to guide him, but everyone he talked to proved to be just as agitated and confused as him. Would Berkut be any help? Or would there just be another naked, surprised prince to have to explain everything all over again to? Gods, where had Anthiese gone?

There were so many questions, so many possible answers he didn’t want to face. He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse when a rumbling shook the castle, jostling him from his thoughts. Before he could regain his footing, there was a crash, and a soldier was thrown through a nearby window.

“What’s going on? Can you report on the current situation?” His first instinct was to help the soldier up, but on closer expectation he found her legs broken, bloody things.

“Monster...” The soldier muttered as she clung to his breastplate. “You have to help the Emperor, he’s--” Her words descended into an unintelligible mess of groans. As much as her state pained him, he couldn’t help but drop her at the revelation.

For a split second, he almost prayed.

Instead though, he rushed out onto the ramparts the soldier had been thrown from. The night was still dark, with only a few torches to light the way. But for his lack of sight, the sounds and smells illuminated enough. There a low, constant moan, humming from station to station. With each source a disgusting mixture of blood and piss tainted the air. While Alm was no stranger to the battlefield, this wasn’t anything so honorable. This was a massacre.

 Don't look at them, find Father

He ran down its length, trying not to focus on the bodies the light settled on, trying not to listen to their calls for help. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” Maybe that was all he was good for anymore: useless apologies that were uttered too late. None of his words had ever been good enough for Anthiese, why did he thing they would do him any good as hurried whispers? At this point he felt as he was no longer himself anymore, but some puppet on a string desperately trying to remember his dance. Gods, he had to do something. He was the brand bearer, it didn’t matter who started the fire, if the world burned, it only do so because of his failure to stop it.

 They have to be alive, they have to be alive, please take me if you must, but they have to be--

Both his thoughts and steps came to a crashing halt once he reached the far bastion. In the darkness it was difficult to make sense of it all, but there was something almost in the shape of Mila. It was the right size, bearing both feathers and scales, but something in his mind couldn’t put all the details quite together. He had already seen her draconic form, already faced down the goddess and her greatest power, yet something about this terrified him to the core of his being.

The earlier rumbling crystallized into something like words as she bent towards the soldier pinned beneath her.

“Heretic, blasphemous rat, wicked man, rotting in my shit is too good a fate for you, you don’t deserve to wear my brother’s brand--”

“No!” The cry came from somewhere young and foolish inside of him. At the interruption, the dragon turned to reveal a beautiful woman’s face stained with blood. Her movement allowed a beam of moonlight to slip through and confirm the worse of his fears.

This time even just focusing on the details couldn’t save him from the truth. Even if he could have somehow missed the emperor’s lance which laid still clutched in his hands, if he brilliant red and gold armor wasn’t a give-away, if the entire face had been smashed in and not only halfway where he could still fear like never before on Father’s face--

His body was in motion before he could realize it, sword poised to hit not the most lethal locations, but the most painful ones. Yet with each swing, she deflected the blow with hardened scales lined against her legs.

“My, my, you need to save your breathe boy,” It was only then Alm realized he was screaming, no roaring as if he was a wild beast himself. Yet such taunts only made him grow louder and his lunges more frantic.

“I’m trying to do you a service!” She laughed. “While you couldn’t help your upbringing, your pain will be a long, (delicious) experience.” Despite her crowing, she stumbled at those words. Alm wasted no time. In one swift motion he raised his sword--

--and just missed her as jumped off the bastion and flew away.

For a minute, Alm could only stare at her slowly fading figure and seethe in his rage. He wanted to transcend his bones and flesh, become a force of nature with no higher purpose in his life than to destroy. But as he lost sight of Mila, the grief and pain became all there was left of him.

Before he figured it would consumed him completely, he approached Father’s corpse. There was little that would make such a grisly sight palatable, but he did his best to straighten his armor, to place his crown back upon his head. He did his best to fight against the tide of regrets. It was a warrior’s death. He had protected his country until his last breath. Better to mean something than to just waste away.

But it didn’t stop Alm from wishing more than anything that he had at least gotten to be there with him when he died, to have more memories of the end than a mangled corpse.

“Father, what am I supposed to do now?”

The only answer he received was his own chocked sobs.

A.N. Lots more blood and pain in this chapter, which was similar to the writing process for this lol, I had a rough semester, plus some outside projects, which made what I knew would be a difficult chapter even more of a challenge, sorry if this feels thin content-wise, but there is a lot going on with lore and action so I figured it would better to stop obsessively editing it and to just get it out before Three Houses takes up a lot of my free time

The plot of Echoes have finally come to terrorize the PLBT!cast, just when a stable status quo seemed in sight, now both of them most handle the consequences of their choices

[petersvibes]

end up here - peter parker

anonymous asked: Hi! Do you think you could write an Imagines with Peter based on end up here by 5sos? It’s totally ok if you don’t want too! Thanks and I love ur writing!!

song: end up here - 5 seconds of summer 

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: none 

author’s note: I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IT’S JUST. i was struggling ngl. i’m in high school now but when i was 12 this song used 👏🏾to 👏🏾 bang👏🏾. i mean BANG. haven’t listened to it in a long time so i was lacking some inspiration. if you want to hear about my 5sos stories i’ll gladly dish. this is also p short but i have my reasons. 

You thrive in settings like this, where the music is loud enough to drown out all of your sorrows and the relationships you forge are superficial. People don’t care enough to know you at a party; they care about the your body, the way you act, and you’ve definitely learned how to deal with that. At a party, you can be whatever people want you to be, a pretty face, an intoxicating presence, or a shadowed mystery. But for Peter, the setting doesn’t matter; because no matter what light he sees you in, you’re you. You’re funny, you’re charming, you’re witty. You can recall a math formula with as much ease as you can a comeback, and you can bring him to his knees with the simplest of touches.

However, aside from the occasional conversation in calculus or the few times you’ve decided to sit at his lunch table, you’re practically strangers. Somehow, he’s known you since you were in middle school, but in all this time it seems you’ve grown to be so enigmatic that what casual interactions he has with you are merely fleeting

“Peter Parker.” You drag out his name, sliding into the seat next to him. You live to see the blush make its way across his cheeks, so profound even in the dim light surrounding you. He sits up straighter, wishing he had time to adjust his hair despite the countless hours he spent on it, knowing he’d be at the same party as you. But of course, he didn’t see you coming. He never does. 

Peter takes a deep breath, ordering himself to calm his heart rate. His eyes flicker to yours, set ablaze by “H-Hi (Y/N).” He rubs his hands on his jeans and looks down, unable to see you pout as you lose sight of his pretty latte colored eyes. 

You sense his nervousness and you lean further into him, resting your elbow on the back of the couch. You’re curled up so that your knee rests slightly on his thigh, your touch burning through the fabric of his dark jeans. “So what’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?” You quip, your smile dazzling.

He doesn't know how to respond, but he smiles anyway, trying not to get lost in the brightness of your eyes. You chuckle, patting his arm. “I’m just messin’ with you.” You say. “However, I never thought I would see you at one of Cindy’s bashes. And I haven’t seen you at an out-of-school function since Liz’s before homecoming.” 

Peter swallows, brushing his hands on the denim. Truthfully, he only self-confirmed his attendance when he overheard you talking about the playlist with Flash, but if you ever found that out, he’d probably die. “I just thought it’d be fun.” He shrugs, trying his very best to keep his voice level. 

The sound of a pair of screaming teenagers fills your ears, making you momentarily roll your eyes. “I can assure you it won’t be.” You say, glancing around the backyard. In the corner, Flash is DJing and taking jabs at anyone who looks even remotely funny. A few feet ahead is a very intense game of beer pong, and at this stage, you and Peter are probably the only people here whose cups are filled with nothing but water. It’s music and drinking and sexual escapades in their initial stages, but in no way is it happy, nor is it good, nor is it fun.

Peter follows your eye line, clearing his throat. “Then why do you come?” He asks. “You are the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) after all.” 

Ignoring the latter half of his comment, you shrug. “I suppose I don’t have to.” You say, Peter listening intently. “I don’t know. I guess I just hope I’ll meet someone intriguing at one of these things. Like you.” You waggle your eyebrows and he grins. 

“I’m in no way intriguing.” The word tastes foreign on his tongue but you can convince him of anything. 

“Don’t kid, Mr. Parker. I’ve seen you around school all secretive with Ned. Disappearing as soon as the bell rings.” Peter gulps, and unbeknownst to you, anxiety starts to build in the depths of his stomach. “Very suspicious if you ask me.” 

“Just the Stark Internship.” He glances around, hoping he’s playing the part of a nonchalant high school student just well enough to convince you.

Eyeing him slyly, you speak. “You don’t think you’re suspicious, fine, but you’re easily the most interesting person here. So for me, this party’s a success.” 

Peter’s palms fly to face, covering the redness of his skin and the embarrassment of his wide smile. “Stop,” He whines, and you giggle. 

“You are just too easy.” 

You and Peter spend a majority of the party on the couch, but from the perspective of any one that happened upon the two of you, with your knees tuck into the warmth of his sides and his arm around the back of your cushion, you were definitely closer than too mere acquaintances should be. By the time the sun sets and moonlight casts its light upon the backyard, neither of you have noticed when you throw your head back from one of his comments about your chemistry teacher, you end up leaning on his shoulder. If you get splashed by pool water you hide in his chest and at one point, Peter’s arm ends up around the back of the couch, sliding down so that it barely touches your shoulders. 

What astonishes Peter the most about his newfound composure around you is that after the initial shock from the fact that you were intentionally sitting with him, his nervousness fades instantly. You’re easily the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, or met, but this part of your allure is new to him; you have this unique way of sending warmth and relaxation through him with only your words. A few times his jokes are good enough that after the initial laugh, you settle into his airy little giggle where your cheeks flush like a peony. You light up when you talk about travel, you frown when he mentions the future, and in the few hours that you speak it feel like he’s known you forever.

It rounds eleven o’clock and you’re dividing your attention between his face and your watch, your quips sometimes interrupted with your own yawns. 

“I should probably head on home.” You say, although from the looks of your less than sober classmates the party is only just beginning. “Even the (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has parents who would kill her if she stayed out too late.” You mock his tone from earlier and he rolls his eyes, a twinge of sadness plaguing his expression. “It’s been real Mr. Parker.” You send him a small smile, standing up to collect yourself. 

He doesn’t know if it’s his stupid impulsiveness, or if another part of him is too desperate for your presence that he can’t  et you go, but he springs up from his seat, startling you in the process.

“I can walk you home?” He suggests, his voice cracking on the last word. 

For a moment longer than you intended, your expression is blank enough that he feels his confidence completely deplete. He opens his mouth to change the subject in defeat, but stops himself immediately when he sees your lips upturn.

“I would really like that.”

Truthfully, the walk should’ve taken no more than twenty minutes, but in your cheerful stupor, you’re making him stop to pet every dog, stare at every street art piece, and avoid cracks on the sidewalk. Much to his surprise, by the time you’ve arrived at your home, your shoulders are drooped and you make no efforts to open your front door. 

“This is me.” You say, rocking back and forth between your heels and your toes. “Thank you for tonight though. I had fun.” You step towards him, placing your small hand on his muscular shoulder. 

Peter makes a face, but looks down, folding his hands together. His brow furrows but he starts to pout. It’s a cross between surprise and disappointment as he drags his feet on the brick of your landing, a rock rolling under his shoe.

Your eyes crinkle as sunshine spreads through them. “What’s that for?” You ask, poking the frown. He shakes his head, mumbling that it’s nothing but You place your first two fingers under his chin, tilting it unto look at you. He feels his lungs constrict from the intimacy of your touch, your eyes trapping him again. “What?” You muse, smiling sweetly.

Peter clears his throat, his eyes drifting to the sight of your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. In no way is he being remotely discreet and you know it, your ego inflating from his demeanor alone. 

His wispy curls blow in front of his eyes and you reach up, brushing it away with cold fingertips that send shivers down his spine. “Peter,” You murmur, your voice quiet and as sweet as sugar. “Do you wanna kiss me?” 

His breath hitches and his lips part, yet no words come out. You feel a chill brush past the tip of your nose and you smile, but not that dazzling way you usually do, but the real way you hardly show. You’ve completely compelled him, your words as effective as the lasso of truth. He nods silently, afraid that if he answers you with words, the best case scenario is that he stutters himself into oblivion and the worst is that what comes out of his mouth is actual vomit.

So you reach up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in until your chests touch and you’re on your tiptoes. Peter tentatively places his hands on your waist, awestruck as he feels you lean in, goosebumps forming on his skin. Your lips, what little he’s felt from them, are just as soft as he pictured, and with you this close he can feel your lulling heartbeat. His eyes flutter shut and just as he’s about to meet your lips, he feels your lips brush past his cheek and rest right by his ear. 

“Good to know.” You whisper, and before he can open his eyes in shock, you’ve disappeared into your building, the feeling of your lips on his skin a mere memory.