#been having a lot of fun looking way too deeply into every word lmao

[franklyimissparis]

jet skis on the moat: a queer-coded line-by-line lyrical analysis

this one was highly requested by me, myself, and i btw. sorry it’s so long, i truly cannot be concise when analysing alex’s lyrics, i get too into all of the different possibilities lmao.

Jet skis on the moat

- the titular line of the song is an interesting juxtaposition that could be interpreted in many different ways as jet-skiing, an adventurous and adrenaline-seeking activity, is contrasted with the defensive confines of a moat. the moat could be a metaphor for alex’s defenses around himself and his feelings, with the idea of jet-skiing around a moat being akin to doing something that should be fun and freeing while in defence mode.

- it could also imply that things are going in circles, like moats often do. that they’re having a good time but they aren’t able/willing to explore beyond the safety and comfort of their private spaces.

- to me, the phrase also invokes the idea of both being kept close to home (and never allowed to explore without inhibitions) but also being forbidden to enter fully into alex’s inner self

They shot it all in CinemaScope

- cinemascope is a lens adapter invented in the 50s for projectors that can expand the traditional screen to a wider length while using the existing equipment. we know that alex loves film imagery and this ties into the themes he often plays at while using said imagery of performance vs. reality.

- the use of cinemascope also implies to me the idea of making something (or someone) better for a bigger audience - this could tie in with alex’s personas and hiding the true self or referencing the band’s commercial successes. it also implies that there’s something beyond the traditional screen, the picture (or story) stretches out further than is seen with a normal lens. the idea of the lens being removable is also notable, the picture can be seen either way with the original equipment but the lens makes it more impressive. again i think this all ties in with the idea of performance and choosing to present things in a certain light.

- “they” implies that there is an audience or crew watching alex and the subject of the song, the two of them are not shooting this together, it’s being captured by a third party who is presenting things differently than originally intended

As though it's the last time you're gonna ride

- i can’t talk about this line without addressing the sexual undertones of the word “ride” lol. it could refer to the sexual aspect of their relationship, the last ride being the last time they’ll sleep together, or the relationship itself as if this is a couple who has split up and gotten back together multiple times

- with the previous line as well, it implies that the experience of their relationship is being captured (potentially by others) to preserve it, though they don’t see the full picture

- the phrasing “as though” is vague enough to leave it up to interpretation as to whether or not it actually will be the last time, somewhat implying to me that calling it a “last time” is something they’ve done before

- this could also refer to the public and private speculation that the band is finished or the somewhat unfounded worries that their commercial success is slipping away

Showstoppers anonymous

- this is a play on alcoholics anonymous/narcotics anonymous and implies that being a showstopper is somewhat of an addiction. it also invokes the idea that this isn’t a solitary experience by referencing the idea like a group meeting, alex’s lover also has a complex relationship with fame.

- the phrase could also poke at the idea of alex’s personas being disconnected from his true self, the showstopper would actually prefer to be (or has to be) anonymous in some sense.

- like in AA meetings, this could also refer to hiding their affiliation from the world or hiding their true identities within these meet-ups

Come over here and give your buddy a hug

- the word “buddy” implies a platonic relationship (i would say it also implies a friendship with another man but that’s very subjective.) with the later references to this person as a lover, we can infer that their relationship is not just platonic which poses the question of why alex would choose to refer to a lover this way. it could be to emphasise the friendship at the core of the relationship as being the more important or prominent aspect. it could also suggest that alex finds the romantic/sexual elements of the relationship uncomfortable to some extent.

- interestingly, this line is also a direct parallel to “come here and kiss me now before it gets too cute” from mr schwartz, suggesting a connection between the two. while this line can certainly be read as platonic, the line from mr schwartz is explicitly romantic.

- also the first two lines of verse one rhyme, making the listener expect these lines to rhyme as well. in alex’s pronunciation, anonymous would be a near rhyme with kiss and it is slightly surprising to hear hug instead.

So much for decidin' not to let it slide

- it sounds as though either alex or his lover feels that the other did something to wrong them which they refuse to forgive this time, but they end up ‘giving in’ eventually.

- in the context of the showstoppers anonymous line, it could imply that their relationship feels like enabling an addiction, that it is something they come back to time and time again despite saying they won’t. and also that their relationship is directly tied to the fame that they share.

- also interesting to ask: is he addressing himself or his lover? is he the one letting it slide or his lover? the previous line seems to imply that alex is asking the other person to come to him, which could imply that his lover is giving in for agreeing or that he’s giving in by reaching out (or both.)

Is there somethin' on your mind

Or are you just happy to sit there and watch While the paint job dries?

- alex’s lover is troubled over the state of their situation but it’s less painful to just ignore the topic.

- the paint imagery is very interesting as alex has a habit of using paint as a sexual metaphor for a certain bodily fluid - with ‘body paint’ and also in anyways (‘you go hard in the paint’)

- watching paint dry generally refers to something being boring or tedious which could imply that alex’s lover would rather do something painfully dull than discuss the issues in their relationship. but paint can also be used to cover things up which could refer to the idea of hiding the issues within the relationship or with hiding the relationship itself (asking: are you really happy to just let me hide things or will you take a stand?)

- if we think about the implication that this relationship has been off- and on-again, it could refer to ‘fixing up’ the relationship with a new coat of paint - doing surface level things to try to repair the damage - and alex could be asking if they’re willing to wait for things to look better again or if they want to call it quits now

When it's over, you're supposed to know

- this line could also be taken in many ways. it could be in the sense of alex feeling almost pitiful for his lover (or himself), who won’t admit that their relationship is actually over. but it could also refer to it being hard to tell whether the relationship is actually over or not - particularly if the line between having a platonic/romantic relationship has always been blurry with them (like we see with the use of “buddy” etc.)

- the phrasing ‘supposed to know’ implies that they don’t actually know about the state of things, though they’re both aware that they should, also reminds me of the line “the fact that neither you and i has ever had a clue” from mr schwartz

Lights out in the Wonder Park

- i couldn’t find anything to suggest that the ‘wonder park’ refers to any real place so i would wager that it’s alex’s take on a fictional amusement park as a metaphor for the ups and downs of his relationship with the other person.

- the idea of the lights going out in contrast to the “wonder park” implies that the joy and amazement of the relationship has been turned off. it could refer to the relationship being off- and on-again with the implication that the lights will likely turn back on at some point. (which could be connected to “the gloved hand’s reaching in to hit the switch” from mr schwartz)

- to me, “the wonder park” also implies having an audience or crowd around. so lights out here could also refer to stopping a performance, etc.

Your saw-toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

- its interesting to pose if he’s talking about himself or his lover here. i know a lot of people interpret saw-toothed to mean crooked teeth like a certain musical partner in alex’s life but i think the phrase could also represent a ‘sharp tongue/mouth’ with the idea of him (or his lover) normally being witty or cutting but being caught off guard by the situation (similar to the ‘angle grinder smile’ from sculptures of anything goes)

- “quick off the mark” means to be slow to react to a situation which could also tie in with the idea of “watching paint dry” instead of talking about the relationship: they’re reluctant to actually change the back and forth element of their relationship.

- the use of the phrase “lover boy” also solidifies that this is a relationship that is at least somewhat romantic/sexual in nature (vs the earlier use of buddy), it’s telling that this more intimate phrase isn’t used until later in the song

That's long enough in the sunshine for one night

- this line could reference the idiom of something to “seeing the light of day” i.e. to be revealed to the public/to be open, their relationship won’t see the light of day with the sunshine instead being found in the nights

- sunshine could also represent a warmth or happy period in their relationship. with the previous lines, it could imply that they got together/met up again briefly but it didn’t last.

- the phrase “that’s long enough” implies that alex is the one to feel as though things have gone on too long, even though he feels the warmth of it too (he likes the sunshine (or relationship) but he doesn’t think it belongs in the context of the night)

Didn't recognise you through the smoke

- this is a play on the idea of “smoke and mirrors” which ties in with alex’s use of personas and the idea of obscuring the truth.

- implies that alex (or the other person) is used to being able to see through the fantasy but it’s been dialled up since their falling out and they are now obscured.

- could also refer to one of them being deceptive about their feelings, particularly for the other

- also could imply the other person is smoking a lot, etc. which could tie in with the idea of fame/their relationship being an addiction: people sometimes replace heavier drugs with excessive nicotine as a step in their recovery. it could also just imply that the other person is a bit of a mess if they’ve started smoking more.

Pyjama pants and a Subbuteo cloak

- subbuteo is a table-top game where you flick around little football players on a field that is placed similarly to a tablecloth. there was an interview where alex spoke about how he would wear the table-top subbuteo pitch as a cape as a kid. it’s unclear whether alex or the other person is meant to be the one wearing the unusual combination.

- wearing pyjama pants implies a sense of intimacy and vulnerability between the two to see each other in that state, especially as one would not generally wear them in public.

- the combination of the pyjama pants with the subbuteo cloak invokes a sense of nostalgia and innocence, particularly in relation to alex’s memories, as well as implies that the person is kind of dysfunctional to be wearing a sleeping garment in combination with a non-clothing item.

- the use of the subbuteo field as clothing is also interesting as it is a traditionally masculine symbol being used to cover-up or guard oneself - which ties in with the next line.

- the subbuteo field is also an interesting choice as the game centres around people controlling a full team of players in order to win. with one person wearing the field, it could imply that they are being strategic about controlling others or that they themselves are being controlled.

You know that it's alright if you wanna cry

- this is another line that could easily apply to either alex or his lover but i think it ties in well with the first line from there’d better be a mirrorball “don’t get emotional, that’s not like you” which alex has said is directed at himself.

- alex is telling himself or his lover that it’s okay to express their emotions and be upset about the situation, implying that they usually are not as forthcoming or overtly emotional or that they may be hiding their true feelings in the presence of the other to appear less invested or devastated

to summarise: alex and his lover had a falling out over their off- and on-again relationship going in circles and potentially being hidden. neither of them took the split well and they are trying to figure out where they stand with each other and what their connection will mean for them now.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 10 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: side character breakup, jungkook is still a little jealous lmao, alcohol, curses, they both are anxious to lose each other tbh, explicit content: hickey, breast play, oral sex (male receiving), jerking off, fingering, protected sex

☆word count: 10.1k

☆a/n: fun fact, this is the chapter that made me choose the title for this fic!! and this is also where the angst starts :') I hope you still enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Monday, March 25th 

You hate college. More specifically, you hate having to turn in multiple lab reports every week. There’s just something about building a lab report that irks you.

You don’t know how researchers do it. You think you’d go insane if you had to write report after report after report but…

You’re already going insane after all.

You sigh, rubbing a hand on your forehead as you look at the tables you’ve been trying to make for half an hour. Yoongi, sitting across from you, raises his head from his laptop, an eyebrow cocked. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, going back to your report as he doesn’t pry, focusing back on his own work.

As much as he spoke to you at the party last week, Yoongi has been a lot more silent today. You reckon you might know why - Hoseok said in the group chat that he’d come to study too, and he’s yet to show up. It’s evening now, and you have a feeling he’s just not going to come. 

You don’t know if you can entirely blame him - it’s Spring Break after all, and most people are trying to forget about college for the week. 

But you can’t, because you’ve got that lab report to work on and a final to study for.

You blink a few times, trying to bring your laptop back in focus, and then you go back to work. You spend another thirty minutes fixing the tables, not caring that the titles clearly could be better. Nabi said she’d go over everything you’ve done, and you know she’s much better with titles anyway.

You’re lucky she’s your lab partner. 

“Are you hungry?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden, and you startle, looking up at him.

Right in time, your stomach grumbles, and you let out a small laugh. “Yeah, a little.”

“Want to order burritos?” Yoongi suggests.

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles, picking up his phone. The smile that was on his lips dies almost immediately, and he deeply sighs. You furrow your brows questioningly, glancing outside of your study rooms.

Jungkook isn’t working today, yet you find yourself looking for him all the same. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask Yoongi, pushing Jungkook away from your thoughts.

Even though every thought of him makes you warm inside, giddy like a teenager with a crush.

“Hobi,” Yoongi simply replies.

You purse your lips, picking up your water bottle to take a long sip as you search for something to say. You settle on, “You guys talked after the party?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, sighing deeply again before handing you his phone. “Just choose which burrito you want.”

You grab his phone, quickly choosing what you want to eat as he remains silent, typing away on his laptop. You’re aware he’s avoiding the question, but you have a feeling he needs to talk. It’s in the way he worries at some dry skin on his bottom lip, an anxious tell you recognize all too well for having it too.

“How did the conversation go?” you ask as he finishes up the order, putting his phone back down on the table.

“It went okay,” he admits, yet he looks defeated. You understand why when he adds, “He told me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

You widen your gaze. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi laughs bitterly, slightly shaking his head. “I feel blindsided. We were all happy before the party and now…” He shrugs vaguely, letting out a choked sound that almost passes as a chuckle. “It just came out of nowhere.”

“I’m really sorry…”

He shrugs again. “What can you do? I really just jumped in too fast without realizing that he was reluctant. I was stupid.”

“I don’t think you were stupid,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and it felt like you were finally getting something in return. Anyone would have been blindsided.”

“I should have known when he insisted we take it slow and not share a room though,” Yoongi insists. “And though the sex was great there was a lot of stuff he was uncomfortable with. Not that I ever did anything without him wanting to do it but…” He wets his lips, glances your way before setting his gaze on his keyboard again. “I was his first guy.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you admit.

Pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks, and you can tell he’s embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. So this time you don’t pry, letting him figure out what he wants to say next.

“I think he realized that he’s not into guys all that much,” Yoongi eventually says. “Like… he wanted to try it out and turns out it’s not as nice as he thought it’d be kinda thing, you know?”

You nod. “It sucks that it had to be with you though. You didn’t deserve that.”

Another shrug, like it’s all Yoongi knows to do right now. “Yeah, I guess.” He chuckles, a sad sound that makes you want to get up and hug him, though you know Yoongi’s not big on physical touch. “I don’t know if I should be mad or sad,” he admits a few seconds later.

“You’re allowed to be both.” He cocks an eyebrow as if not convinced. “I’m serious,” you insist. “You like him. Obviously, it’s going to hurt if he decides he doesn’t want to be with a guy. And obviously, you’re allowed to be mad too, because to you it can feel like he was leading you on.”

Yoongi meets your gaze. “Have you ever thought about becoming a therapist?”

His statement surprises you, and you laugh, scrunching up your nose. “No?”

“I think you’d be good,” Yoongi says. He sighs deeply again, picking up his phone. “Food’s on its way.”

You’re technically not allowed to eat at the library, so you end up eating on the steps outside when the food arrives, the fresh evening air welcoming after being stuck in a small, stuffy room for a couple of hours. Yoongi keeps pouring his heart out to you all along, as if he’d been holding everything in for too long, and the dam finally burst.

You’re happy to be there for him. Even though most of it is the same thing as at the party last week, you’re happy he’s comfortable enough to confide in you, and you try to cheer him up. 

“If you want,” you say after a time. “I could try to speak to Hobi. See what he really thinks about this all.”

Yoongi holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking away, his eyes shifting to the cloudy sky. “Nah, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says. “I’ll just have to move on.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod. “Your choice. I’ll be here for you.”

He smiles, sighing. “I know. Thank you.”

On that note you return to your study room and to the lab report awaiting you. Yoongi busies himself with his composition as you work, and you finally finish taking care of the text for the results about half an hour later. Nabi said she’d do the discussion, so you send her the link, asking her to tell you if she wants you to fix anything, and then you close your laptop, folding your arms on top of it.

“Done?” Yoongi says, pushing his headset down so that it rests around his neck.

You nod, dropping your face on your arms. “And I’m dead.”

“When do finals start for you?” he asks.

“Next Tuesday,” you admit.

“Isn’t that early?” Yoongi asks, gaze widened in surprise.

It might be. You only have one then though, and you still have two weeks of classes in your other courses before the rest of your finals. You’ll still take it - it means one less final during the true final week.

You tell so to Yoongi, who admits he doesn’t have finals, instead having projects in three classes. It leads to a conversation where you compare biology to his music major, and another fifteen minutes go by in comfortable silence when the conversation dies of its own volition, as you scroll on your phone and Yoongi keeps on working on his music composition.

You startle when someone knocks on the door of the study room. You glance that way, eyes widening when you notice Jungkook on the other side. Yoongi lets out a small laugh at your expense, and you get up, opening the door for Jungkook. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he walks in, two coffees in hands. 

“Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You take it with an eyebrow cocked quizzically, and then you watch him as he drops in one of the empty chairs at the table. He’s got a backpack with him, and he pulls out a laptop and a notebook from it while you and Yoongi are just stunned silent.

“What are you doing?” you ask again as you sit back in your chair. 

“Figured I’d come study here with you guys,” he explains simply.

You glance at Yoongi, who shrugs.

“Oh?” you let out, settling your gaze back on Jungkook.

“Unless you guys don’t want me to?”

Yoongi saves you by replying, “No, you’re all good man. I was leaving anyway.”

He clearly wasn’t, as you’re the one who finished writing your report and he was still in the middle of his composition, yet he still gets up, closing his laptop and putting it in his backpack.

“Text me if there’s anything,” you tell him as he’s sliding one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he nods curtly. “Will do. Thanks for everything.”

You offer him a small smile, and then he’s walking out, not once looking back. 

“Did you really have to come here?” you ask Jungkook, and it sounds far more accusing than you meant it to be.

“What?” he lets out. “Just wanted to see what the hype is all about when it comes to the library.”

You offer him a no-bullshit look. “Were you jealous because I was studying alone with Yoongi?”

Jungkook frowns, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. His lips jut out in the hint of a pout, and something melts inside of you, like it always does when it comes to him.

“He’s the one that left the second I got here,” Jungkook points out.

“Because he’s going through a hard time, dumbass,” you say, punching Jungkook in the shoulder. 

He rubs at the spot, his pout intensifying, if that’s possible. “He still could have stayed, I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong, and though you really want to be there for Yoongi, you know he’s the kind of person that needs space a lot. Or at least that’s the impression he’s given you in general, and you really hope he didn’t leave because Jungkook showed up.

“I was done though,” you admit, patting your closed laptop. “I was thinking about heading home.”

Jungkook flicks your nose, taking you by surprise, and you sit back in your chair as you shriek. It earns you one of his bunny grins, and you truly are melting like snow in the sun. “Well then you’re going to have to stay with me for a little longer, mmh?”

You tilt your head to the side, though you can’t help the smile that tickles the corners of your lips. “And do what?”

“Study?” he sarcastically lets out. “Do whatever it is that you bio majors do.”

You end up doing so, rereading your notes for your first final. It’s boring, and you don’t think it’s really productive when Jeon Jungkook is sitting next to you, stealing quick glances in your direction. 

You catch him for what feels like the tenth time, and you roll your eyes. “Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” you offer as an explanation. “We should go home.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Why?”

“People could see us here.” And go and tell Taehyung about it.

“I’ll handle Tae if he gets upset, don’t worry,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, but it does the opposite.

Indeed, a drop of lead forms in your stomach because, what if Taehyung learns?

You don’t want him to know. It’d complicate everything, ruin everything. 

“Besides,” Jungkook adds, “I’ll have to handle him in April anyway.”

You frown, a confused crease streaking across your brow. “Why?”

Jungkook meets your gaze. “I’m going to Paris with Jimin to see your brother at the end of the semester.”

Your heart starts racing in your chest, anxiety flooding your blood. “Oh?”

Jungkook toys with his piercings, scanning your features carefully. “Yeah. It’s been planned for a while.”

“You didn’t tell me.” You’re aware you once again sound accusing, but you can’t help it.

Not when you see the expiration date of your relationship with Jungkook flashing in your mind.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I just didn’t think to tell you? I thought I mentioned it when we Facetimed Tae the other day.”

You can’t blame him for not explicitly telling you - the trip has likely been planned for a while, and it’s not like you speak about your brother a lot. Though you mention him once in a while, you’ve both been good at avoiding talking about him. Now that he’s mentioned the Facetime call though, you do recall, and it’s like a hand is squeezing around your heart some more.

“No worries,” you say, and you offer him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When do you leave?”

“April 29th, I think? I’ll check.”

You nod, and you look away from Jungkook to stare at your laptop instead, though your gaze loses its focus as your brother invades your thoughts. You think about what he’d say - you know he’ll be furious, and he’ll likely kick Jungkook out of your apartment. 

Jungkook will never be able to handle Taehyung. Not when he’s being an overbearing asshole like only he knows to do.

“Peach,” Jungkook says in a small voice that almost sounds whiny. “Why do you look so upset?”

“You can’t handle Tae,” you say. You worry at your bottom lip and then take a deep breath. “It’s really better if he doesn’t know.”

Jungkook remains silent for a few seconds, though he nods his head. “Okay.” He nods again, offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Do you want to head home then?”

“Yeah,” you answer without a beat of silence. “Yeah, I think we should go home.”

Jungkook’s gaze drops to his laptop, and you feel bad. You truly do - he looks defeated, much like Yoongi looked like earlier.

“Can we watch something when we get home though?” you quickly ask.

You can’t help it. You can’t stand the sight of Jungkook upset - it’s just wrong to you.

He immediately brightens, a small curving his lips upwards. “Yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah, definitely. Should get some cuddles in too.”

His smile widens, and he meets your gaze, the usual mischievous twinkle back in the depths of his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

And it really is. You think, you don’t need more with Jungkook. You don’t need the relationship to change, don’t need anyone to know. Because it’s simple right now, and there’s beauty in its simplicity. 

Wednesday, March 27th

“Don’t!” you shriek, but Jungkook ignores you, stealing the TV remote from your hands.

“We’re not watching your reality TV show,” he says as he plops down on the couch into a lying position.

You glare at him, frowning as you fold your arms on your chest. “You like it.”

“Sometimes.” He flashes you a bunny grin that makes you gulp around a sudden lump in your throat. “But right now, I’m in the mood for a movie.”

You look up to the ceiling, searching for salvation yet finding none. “What movie?”

“Just come here,” he says, opening his arms for you.

You can’t resist. His gravity is too strong, and he pulls you in, like he’s the sun and you’re the comet. 

Though you might come from the Kuiper Belt, you know you’re bound to crash into him anyway.

Once you’re nestled in his arms, Jungkook resumes his scrolling on Netflix. 

“What about this?” he asks.

“Extraction?” you say as you eye the movie he stops on. “I’m not in the mood for action.”

“Then a romantic comedy it is.”

You chuckle against him, pecking the mole on his neck. He chooses the movie Always Be My Maybe, and then tightens his grip around you.

“I like that movie,” you say.

“You’ve seen it already?”

You reach for his hand before he’s able to change it. “Yeah, but I don’t mind,” you reassure him. 

He nods, and that’s how you end up watching the movie, slowly dozing off on his chest. You’re in and out of sleep, watching the bright screen whenever you wake up, and when the credits roll in, Jungkook yawns over you.

“Were you sleeping?” you ask, faking offence.

“You were,” Jungkook points out, flicking your nose as you raise your head to look at him. 

You move your face away, resting your head on the couch. “Barely.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, and then you both burst out laughing. 

You like this. You like the intimacy of being with Jungkook in your own home, like that in between these walls you get to call him yours. It’s treacherous, but oh so inebriating, like he’s summer wine you’ve become addicted to.

Instead of watching another movie, Jungkook goes to his room to retrieve his speaker, and he puts a random playlist on while you fetch a rosé bottle from the fridge, where you’ve left it before watching the movie. You’d decided to spend the evening in despite both your friends and his friends asking to hang out, and so you’d gotten a bottle earlier today.

That, and the board game Ticket to Ride, your favourite board game.

“That’s not how it works,” you complain a while later, when you’re one glass in and Jungkook grabs a locomotive and wagon card from the five on the side.

“What?” he lets out.

“If you take a locomotive you can only take one card,” you remind him.

It’s his first time playing, and though the game is fairly simple, you’ve noticed Jungkook has a tendency to try and cheat his way to the win. You’re tempted to let him keep the two cards when he offers you puppy eyes, yet you stand your ground, holding your hand out.

“Give me the wagon back.”

“Take it from me,” he teases, lips stretching in a smirk.

“Oh, you want to play this way?” you reply in the same teasing tone, and Jungkook toys on his piercings.

“Maybe?”

You get up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor, walking to the other side of the coffee table. Jungkook watches you, an apprehensive yet excited look in his eyes, and he laughs the second you drop behind him, hands aiming for his sides.

He leans against you, his large frame almost enough to make you crumple to the floor, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him close.

“Give me the wagon,” you repeat.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m not playing the game anymore.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, a pout on his pink lips. “Okay then, take your wagon back.”

He gives it to you, and you smile victoriously before pecking his cheek. “Thank you.”

You walk back to your side of the table, though you stop halfway, eyes brightening.

“I love this song!” 

Jungkook leans back on his hands, tilting his head to the side as Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol starts playing.

It was your favourite song growing up. You used to listen to a different version of it you’d heard on Grey’s Anatomy, and you’d listen to it whenever you felt sad. Whenever you needed to feel like you weren’t alone in the universe, like someone was waiting for you, somewhere.

And as you look down at Jungkook while the lyrics start, you know someone was waiting all along.

“Sing it for me,” Jungkook says, smiling softly.

You can’t help the blush that creeps on your cheeks. “I don’t know how to sing. But you do!”

He chuckles, yet immediately starts singing as you offer him a hand to pull him up to his feet. He obliges, and he rests his large hands on your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. He sways you to the music as he softly sings, cheeks dusted in pink, and you pull him even closer, resting your head on his chest.

Simple intimacy. That is what you and Jeon Jungkook are made of, and you think, if he’d ask you to lay here, in this moment, you’d lie with him until eternity took you in its hold. Until you’d be nothing more than dust between the stars - remembrance of what was once great. 

But April is looming closer, a giant towering over the both of you, one step away from crushing you under its boot.

“You know,” Jungkook says while the song continues in the background.

“Mmh?” you let out, looking up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are heavy with emotions, and you swim in them, bathe in them. You feel complete, cherished, and you hope he knows you feel the same way.

You hope he knows you’ve been falling in love with him despite the odds.

“I’ve never been like this with anyone before,” he admits, his voice gentle. “I’ve had situationships, I guess, but nothing like us.”

You smile softly, your heart racing in your chest. “Me neither. You’re the first.”

It’s true. Though you’ve sort of dated Sam Hwang for a few weeks during the summer, it was nothing like it is with Jungkook.

Sam Hwang never looked at you the way that Jungkook looks at you.

Jungkook leans forward, resting his forehead against yours as he keeps on swaying you both to the music, the song nearing its last chorus. Your eyes flutter shut from the proximity, and your breaths mingle as you fall silent for a few seconds.

“I love having firsts with you,” he whispers.

You almost reply that you love him. The moment calls for it - the atmosphere is that of romance,  the music is close to your soul, and he… He’s the blood in your veins and the oxygen in your lungs. Yet you can’t say it - you’ve never told anyone you loved them before. And you’re not even sure you truly love him. Yes, you have feelings, but everything is overshadowed by the knowledge that you’re bound to end.

You don’t want to tell him you love him and make it too real only to have him slip from your fingers the second Taehyung learns.

“Me too,” you instead reply. “I love spending time with you.”

It’s as close to the truth as you’ll get, and he allows it, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. It’s slow, patient, like the whole universe will pause for you two. He pulls away when the song ends, bending to grab his phone on the table. 

He restarts the song, and the second his phone is back on the table again, you pull him back in, tiptoeing to kiss him again. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him, and you sigh at the pillowy softness of his mouth, at the way his piercings feel just right pressing indents in your lip. His free hand cups your cheek, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, almost hesitantly, but you open up for him immediately, tasting the rosé in his mouth as he kisses you deeply, languidly. The kiss never accelerates, yet it’s infinitely passionate.

Much like that first kiss you’d exchange, during the power outage on Valentine’s Day.

You think you knew then - he’d kissed you so softly, like you were fragile, just a flower petal a second from being blown away. Even then, he’d cared for you, and it’d scared you.

But there’s nothing scary about this. There’s nothing scary about the way he gently hikes your shirt up to slide his hand underneath it, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. There’s nothing scary about the way he sighs when you run your hands through his hair, gently tugging at the soft strands. There’s nothing scary about the way he backs you towards the couch, spinning around at the last second so that he can sit down.

There’s nothing scary about him pulling you in, always, so that you straddle his lap, connecting your mouths again a second later. No, it’s only natural. He’s the wind and you the leaves. He’s the sun that shines on you, his moon.

You were always meant to collide after all, and though the aftermath might be terrifying, all you can do right now is enjoy it while it lasts.

Jungkook tentatively grinds up, his arousal evident as he presses against your clothed self. You let out a breathy sound that makes him push his tongue in your mouth, and you suck on it, earning a grunt from him as his hands drop to your hips to drag you on him again. You grab at the hem of his shirt, disconnecting your mouths just long enough to pull the fabric off him, and then you’re kissing him again, crashing your lips on his hard enough that you think you taste blood, though you don’t care.

You just want him. Need him, so viscerally you think you’ll combust.

“Peach,” Jungkook lets out as you move to his neck. 

Unable to resist, you suck a hickey on him, a bright purple mark on the spot where his shoulder connects with his neck. He groans, leaning his head back against the couch to give you better access as you lick at the spot, soothing the sting.

When you straighten, Jungkook meets your gaze, his chest quickly going up and down. You’re just as out of breath as him, and when he reaches for the hem of your shirt, you let him take it off you, leaving you in only your black lace bralette. He looks at your breasts, cupping them in his large hands as he sighs appreciatively.

“Every time it’s like you get more beautiful,” he murmurs, and he looks up at you then, his eyes crinkled at the corners in what you can only call adoration. 

“Kook…”

His hands return to your waist, and he wets his lips, playing with his piercings. You grind against him, and his eyes immediately flutter shut.

“You think we can fuck out here?” you tease, rolling your hips.

“On the couch that your brother bought,” he replies, and there’s something so sinful about the thought that you know you’ll do it.

It’s not like Taehyung is around and will know.

So you bend forward, capturing Jungkook’s mouth in another languid kiss while you unbutton his pants. When the button comes undone, you straighten, standing between his legs so that you can pull the jeans down his legs. You leave the boxers on, eyeing his length as you kneel, hands resting on his thighs.

“Can I suck your dick?” you ask.

He chuckles. “Yes. But please be quick, I want to be buried inside of you.”

You narrow your gaze at him, but let out a laugh despite yourself. 

You focus on his dick again then, on the wet spot at the top where his purple underwear has turned darker. You bend forward, littering small kisses along his shaft, and you tentatively lick at the wet spot, the taste of his precum filling your mouth. And though you’d planned to tease him, to be the brat you know he likes, you give in right away, pulling his boxers down just enough so that you can lick at his slit.

He lets out a breathy sound that has you bite your lip as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s got his head thrown back, eyes closed, and from this angle, all you can see is his sharp jaw.

You pull his boxers down more, and he helps you by raising his ass for a few seconds. His dick springs free, already rock hard, and you immediately grab the base to hold it up as you finish taking off his boxers, letting them tangle around his ankles. You’re quick to lick a long stripe from between his balls up to the tip of his cock, and then you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.

He bucks his hips, fucking up into your mouth, and you moan when he hits the back, your eyes immediately watering. 

He lets you lead after that, hands lost in your hair as you bob your head up and down, working him closer to his high. You love the feel of him in your mouth, love the way he grunts and praises you under his breath, and you think you’d be able to come from just hearing him, pleasuring him. 

It doesn’t get to that though. When Jungkook truly nears his high, he pulls you away from his dick, and you meet his gaze to see his pupils are blown wide, filled with so much lust all you can do is obey when he says, “Go get a condom in my room, mmh?”

You nod, and you get up to walk towards his room, feeling his gaze burning on you as you pass the threshold and head to the night table. You pull a condom out, and you walk back to the living room to find Jungkook jerking himself off, his grip on his dick tight enough you know it has to hurt a little.

“Put it on for me,” he says, and he stops jerking off, holding his dick up for you. 

You sit next to him, pulling the condom out of the tinfoil package, and then you roll it on his dick. He hisses as you do so, but the second it’s on he pushes you back until you’re lying on the couch and he’s hovering over you. 

His hair falls in his eyes, and you quickly push the strands back. He leans in, pressing his lips on yours for a kiss far softer than what you expected, and you smile against him.

He grins when he pulls away, eyes shining with lust and adoration again, and then he’s taking off your pants, taking his sweet time. Kissing every inch of skin revealed, from your inner thigh to a spot below your knee. He stops after that, instead eyeing the wet spot on your underwear, and then he pulls at his piercings, sending you a dark look that makes you go molten.

“I want to fuck you in this,” he says as he finishes taking off your pants, his free hand going to your hip where he traces your underwear. “Want to ruin your panties.”

“Do it,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t need to hear more before he’s returning over you, and his hand pushes your panties to the side so that he can run a finger between your folds, and then circle your clit. You grind your hips, seeking more friction, but Jungkook doesn’t oblige, instead pulling his finger away from your pussy.

“Be patient,” he whispers, and then he kisses you again.

The kiss is feathersoft, gentle, and you lose yourself in the very essence of him. You don’t care - you just want this moment, forever. A scene constantly replaying, away from the atrocity of the world, with your favourite song as the background music.

“Please,” you beg in a soft murmur when he pulls away from your lips, and this time he obliges, returning his hand to your pussy. This time, he pushes in, and you sigh against him as your walls clench around his digit.

“You’re already so wet,” he says, and then he’s kissing you again, his tongue lapping at yours. 

You moan in his mouth, hands lightly scratching his back as he adds a second finger. You can hear squelching sounds between your legs, and you’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good that you can’t form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck,” you curse, and Jungkook chuckles, pecking your cheek.

“You take my fingers so well, peach,” he praises. “Will you take my cock just as well?”

You moan again, and you nod your head yes. “Yeah. Please.”

He smirks, pulling his fingers out of you. You both eye them - they’re covered in your juices, and it’s decadent, sinful.

Even more so when Jungkook puts them in his mouth to clean them thoroughly, drinking in your juices. 

“So sweet,” he whispers after, and then he shifts, straightening between your legs so that he can align his dick with your entrance, your panties still pushed to the side. He meets your gaze, his own dark with lust. “How do you want me tonight?” he asks, rubbing his dick on you slowly.

“Just fuck me, but come near,” you say, pulling on one of his wrists so that he leans over you again. 

He smiles, infinitely soft despite what you’re doing, and then he pushes in, ever so slowly. Inch after inch, Jungkook spears you with his dick until he bottoms out. He stills there, and you wrap your legs around his dainty waist to keep him as close as possible. He obliges, stealing a deep kiss on your lips, and he slowly pulls out before slamming to the hilt again, and you moan in his mouth.

The rhythm he establishes is slow and steady. Deep, in a way that makes you see stars in his gaze. Or maybe that’s just the way the light reflects in his eyes, or the emotions still swirling in the depths of him. You don’t know. All that you know is that you’re falling and falling, with no chance to ever stop now.

You’ve crossed too many lines to ever be able to stop. So you’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Chase all the cars around his head until you can’t anymore, until the last nail is in the coffin and you have to say goodbye to this, to him.

But for now, you enjoy. And you enjoy as best as you can, eyes fluttering shut as he slightly picks up the pace, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You hold him close, arms and legs tight around him, and you moan as he makes love to you.

At least that’s what this feels like. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. You just want the warm proximity of his body on yours, of his lips kissing your mouth. Jungkook gives you all, and you hope he knows you’re giving all to him in return.

Everything. You’ll give him everything until you have nothing left to give, if he so takes it.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. He slows down his rhythm, meets your gaze. “I’m really in love with this pussy of yours.”

You know why he says it that way. Know exactly what he truly means but can’t say, and you take that too, keep it locked up in a safe corner of your heart.

“I know,” you whisper, cupping his cheek, and he rests his forehead on yours again.

“I’ll fuck you like this every day,” he says, and it sounds like a promise.

A promise that maybe you’ll make it past your brother’s return.

“Please do,” you beg, and then you’re kissing again, and he’s pounding into you harder, seeking completion for the both of you.

You come before him. Nails digging in his back while you arch yours, walls pulsing around him. That’s what sends him over the edge, and Jungkook climaxes, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he comes and comes.

He’d paint you white if it wasn’t for the condom, and the thought makes you grind your hips instinctively. He kisses your neck in retaliation, and you moan softly, tilting your head to give him better access.

When you’ve come down from the high, you glance towards the coffee table and your abandoned game of Ticket to Ride. The sight makes you laugh, and you press a soft kiss on the mole on Jungkook’s neck as he asks, “What’s got you laughing?”

“We never finished the game,” you remind him.

He lifts his head just enough to look at the coffee table. “Damn,” he lets out. “I totally forgot about that.”

You can’t blame him. When you’re together, you forget about everything, too - he becomes the center of your universe. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Should we finish it?” you ask.

He meets your gaze, pecks your forehead once. “Shower first?”

You can’t say no to those big doe eyes, so you follow him to the bathroom.

And while he washes your back, you hear the clock ticking, your expiration date looming closer with every second that passes.

Saturday, April 13th

The movie theatre is packed. 

You’re waiting in line for popcorn with Nabi, Namjoon and Ria, while Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi go to the bathroom. The hall of the movie theatre is loud, and you’ve been standing in silence with your friends as you wait for your turn, though you’ve been eyeing the menu as you’re trying to decide what to order.

You settle on a medium-sized bag of popcorn to share with Yoongi, and Namjoon and Ria grab different candies and chocolate bars for themselves and your other friends. You’re walking towards your movie room when you notice an all-too recognizable tattooed boy, who stands taller than the group that surrounds him.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and he grins broadly as he waves at you.

Four pairs of eyes turn to look at you - Jimin, Sera, Lisa and Eunwoo - and you smile at them, though your gaze quickly shifts back to Jungkook.

You’d told him you were coming to the movies with your friends before going out for drinks. You’re not surprised he’s decided to pull up - despite everything you’ve told him, he’s jealous of your friendship with Yoongi. Which you reckon is funny - Yoongi is trying to fix things with Hoseok, and all you’ve been doing is offer help to him when he needs it.

You don’t think the relationship is fixable, but you haven’t had the strength to break it to Yoongi yet. Not when they had a moment last week, and he’s been far too happy about it since then.

You walk over to where Jungkook’s standing, your friends in tow. It’s hard to stop yourself from hugging him, but you manage to do it, instead greeting everyone and smiling at Jimin as he asks what movie you’re going to see.  

“Dune 2,” you reply. 

Jimin snorts, saying, “Thought so.”

It sounds ominous, and you slightly furrow your brows, glancing towards Jungkook. He only shrugs his shoulders as he purses his lips.

And that’s how you end up mixing friend groups for the movie. You’re not surprised when Jungkook manages to sit on your left - he’s clearly been scheming for this all along. Yoongi, entirely oblivious, sits on your right.

“I haven’t even seen the first movie,” Yoongi says as he leans towards you. He quickly glances further down the row, where Hoseok sat with Namjoon and Nabi.

Jungkook mirrors Yoongi, and he’s so close you catch a whiff of the detergent he uses to wash his clothes. “It was practically a walking simulator in the desert. Not much to miss.”

Yoongi nods, sitting back in his seat. He offers you a knowing look, and then turns towards Seokjin and Ria on his other side, joining whatever conversation they’re having. You purse your lips, before sliding your gaze back to Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“My friends wanted to see the movie,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Thought we could go at the same time.”

You look up to the ceiling, though a smile is playing at the corners of your lips. “What a coincidence.”

He grins. “What a coincidence indeed.”

It makes you chuckle, and before you can say anything else, the light of the movie theatre dims, leaving you in only the glow of the screen as it comes to life.

You eat your popcorn as many movie trailers pass on the screen, Yoongi taking some once in a while. The movie starts when you’re halfway done with the bag, and soon you’re lost in the scenes, too focused to eat.

That’s when Jungkook strikes, stealing a handful of popcorn from your bag.

“Hey!” you whisper-shout, and he winks at you as he eats a mouthful of the snack. 

“What?” he whispers back once he’s swallowed.

“That’s mine.”

He flicks your nose, leaning closer to say directly in your ear, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, peach.”

You narrow your gaze. “You haven’t even bought any snacks.”

He shrugs. “I knew I’d steal yours.”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head as you look back towards the screen, and he chuckles softly. Scenes flash in front of your eyes, and you get lost in the action. It might be an hour later, or just a few minutes, when Jungkook pokes your knee, attracting your attention.

You glance at him, but he’s focusing on the screen, his skin looking honey-like in the light. You furrow your brows in question, but when he doesn’t say anything, you shrug, looking back at the screen.

He does it again thirty seconds later, and this time he’s stifling a laugh when you glance at him.

“What do you want?” you whisper as you lean closer to him.

“You,” he replies simply, his eyes darkening as he meets your gaze.

You gulp. “We’re in the middle of a movie theatre with all of our friends.”

“I know,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve just been thinking of how you feel around my…”

You punch his shoulder before he can finish his sentence, and Lisa throws you a look that makes you sit back in your seat, folding your arms on your chest.

“Just focus on the movie, Kook,” you mumble.

He chuckles again, but before he can say anything else, Lisa nudges him. He glances at her, leaning closer when she whispers something you can’t quite hear. 

His whole demeanour changes after that, and he sits back in his chair, a slight pout on his lips. Gone is the playfulness, but you think it’s safer that way. He’s way too obvious when you’re in public, and though Taehyung still hasn’t said a thing, you know it’s bound to explode in your face soon.

Jungkook is leaving for Paris in just a few weeks after all. 

It douses you, and you finish watching the movie with a lump in your throat, one that doesn’t disappear even when you’re at the bar later, your friend group mixing with Jungkook’s far too easily. Of course, Jungkook notices, and he sits next to you, nudging you.

You glance at him, noticing the concern in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, but he sees through it immediately.

“Is it your cramps?”

You’re on your period. Obviously, he knows, and he’s been sweet about it, buying you snacks and putting his hands, always warm, on your lower stomach while you cuddle. 

You purse your lips, shaking your head. The concern doesn’t disappear from his features though, and you feel bad. Enough so that you say, “I’m just…”

You trail off as Lisa appears, sitting on the other side of Jungkook with two beers in hand. She gives one to Jungkook, who thanks her quickly before setting his gaze on you again. Yet she lingers, and you find yourself unable to speak, shrugging your shoulders.

“If there’s anything, just let me know,” Jungkook says, and he offers you a small smile that does nothing to tame the worry in his gaze. “I don’t mind heading home earlier.”

You nod once, and the conversation dies as Hoseok appears on the other side of the table, cheeks red with the shots he’s already downed.

“Not drinking tonight?” he asks you.

You shrug. “Not really in the mood.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze in his suspicion. “I’ve never seen you not in the mood to drink.”

You chuckle. “Well, now you have.”

You’re relieved when he lets it go, especially as you sensed Jungkook tensing by your side, an indication that he was going to intervene if Hoseok didn’t drop it. There’s a short silence, during which you notice Hoseok looking at Yoongi where he’s drinking with Namjoon and Seokjin, a few tables over.

You glance at Jungkook, motioning towards Hoseok. Jungkook frowns, not understanding, and you quickly pull out your phone to text him.

[10:37 pm] You: i want to talk to hobi about yoongi but not in front of you guys

Jungkook pulls out his phone to read your message. He doesn’t reply, yet he nods, turning towards Lisa. “Where are Sera and Jimin?”

“Ordering something at the bar,” Lisa replies, entirely unaware. “Why?”

“Want shots?”

Lisa beams under Jungkook’s gaze, and you taste bile in your mouth as they get up and walk away together, Jungkook shooting you a quick glance over his shoulder.

You can complain all you want about Jungkook being jealous of Yoongi, but you’re just as jealous of Lisa after all.

“What’s up with you and Yoongi?” you ask when they’re out of earshot, gaining Hoseok’s attention.

“Man…” he trails off. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Is that why you’ve decided to switch universities?” 

You’ve been asking yourself that question for weeks, but Hoseok has been good at avoiding you, clearly realizing that you’ve grown closer to Yoongi.

Hoseok widens his gaze, and the blush on his cheeks deepens. “No? I said it’s because I’m following a professor.”

“What professor?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

Hoseok shrugs, his eyes dropping to a knot in the wood of the table. “Why do you care?”

“You’re my friend,” you remind him. “No matter the history that we have. I’d be sad to see you go.”

He chuckles, and it’s a lot more bitter than you ever expected to hear him. “Listen, I don’t really want to be questioned. Is Yoongi the one that asked you to ask me this?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all. I’m just worried about you.”

“About me?” he repeats. “I’m all good, Y/n.”

He doesn’t sound convincing at all, so you say, “Just make sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“I already did,” he admits, and his glance towards Yoongi is far too telling. “I’m not into him like that. I don’t even know if I’m into men like that.”

“Have you told him?” 

He shrugs. “Here and there. I think he knows.”

You think so too, as Yoongi had mentioned it when you’d studied together a few weeks ago. 

“Just make sure you’re honest with him, and honest with yourself,” you say after a few beats of silence.

Hoseok purses his lips, nodding once. “Will do.”

The air turns awkward as Hoseok just keeps on staring at the knot in the wood. You feel bad - you used to be a lot closer to him, and in just a few weeks, your relationship shifted. But you think it might be for the better - you can’t imagine how Jungkook would feel if you were close to someone you used to sleep with, considering he’s jealous of a friend you’ve never done anything with.

Not that that would stop you from being friends with someone. Especially not when April 29th is coming soon, and with it, your situationship - you’re not sure you can call it a relationship - will end. 

“Where are you moving?” you ask.

“San Diego,” he replies quickly, and a shy smile appears on his lips, like the thought excites him. “I can’t wait to not have to deal with winter anymore.”

“I can imagine,” you say, chuckling. “Though winter wasn’t too bad this year.”

“If there was an inch of snow then it was bad.” He says it wisely, and this time you laugh as he breaks into a smile.

The conversation is easier after that. Still heavy, because you both know the friendship likely won’t survive the distance, but you still manage to have fun as you speak about classes, about life, and about what he’ll do once he’s in California. Half an hour passes like that, and then you move to the bar, agreeing to grab a single drink.

You settle on an Amaretto Sour, and Ria and Nabi join you at the bar. You end up doing Lychee bombs with them, and then you follow them all back to the table where the rest of your friends are, along with Jimin, Sera and Jungkook.

You’re relieved to see Lisa isn’t there. Not that she’s not nice. She always is, despite her obvious attraction towards Jungkook. And though she clearly senses that something’s happening between you and Jungkook, she’s never said anything, and you respect her for it.

You sit between Nabi and Ria, and Nabi quickly melts against Namjoon next to her. You snort at the sight, turning to say it to Ria, who seems to be in a staring contest with Seokjin across the table.

You don’t really know what’s happening between the two. Ria mentioned that she’s not interested in him, saying he’s just gotten out of a relatively long relationship, and you’re not close enough to Seokjin to know his opinion.

You’re just observant, and you know just how much the air fills with electricity when these two are concerned. Lightning is bound to strike at some point, and you just hope it does so without hurting anyone.

You wonder, is that how the people around you perceive you and Jungkook?

The evening unfolds, calmer than your usual outings - you find yourself going home just a little after midnight. Jungkook’s with you, and he unlocks the door as you slowly walk up the stairs, shooting you a glance.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks as you finally reach the top.

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze. The streetlight down the stairs reflects in his gaze, and he looks angelic, innocent like this.

“Yeah, I’m just…” you trail off. “You’re leaving soon.”

His features soften, and he opens the door for you to walk in, following behind you. “I know,” he says once he’s shut the door.

You turn the lights on, meeting his gaze. Unable to help yourself, you cup his cheek, thumb swiping at his skin. “Want to share a bed tonight?” you ask.

As if you haven’t been sharing a bed for weeks already.

“Yes, of course,” he immediately agrees, and he covers your hand with his own, tugging you closer. “If you kiss me first.”

That makes you smile, like only he knows to do, and you tiptoe, pressing your lips on his in a featherlike peck.

“That doesn’t count,” he complains, lips jutting out in a small pout.

“Then kiss me,” you challenge. “Kiss me stupid.”

You don’t need to ask twice - he closes the distance between your mouths, lips ravaging yours, and you lose your hands in his hair.

Later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower - you don’t like having sex on your period, but you still wanted to make him feel good - you lie down in your bed, the fairy lights making the atmosphere far gentler than it should be.

It’s treacherous, and you lie with your head on Jungkook’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Chasing Cars is playing on his speaker, and you hold him tighter, putting all of your love in the act. He kisses the top of your head, mouth lingering against you.

“I’m happy you came tonight,” you admit. Indeed, despite the anxiety of Taehyung learning, you like hanging out with Jungkook. Like spending as much time as possible with him right now - the clock is ticking after all, and the sound resembles that of a bomb about to go off.

“Me too,” he whispers. 

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Have you talked to Taehyung recently?” 

The question takes him aback, and his eyebrows knit together. “I speak to him almost every day, why?”

Because you’ve been avoiding your brother like the plague. Because you know the second you speak to Taehyung, you’ll blurt out the truth, and you’re not ready to face his reaction yet.

You doubt you’ll ever be ready.

“How is he and the girl doing?” you ask. “Ariane?”

“Good,” Jungkook answers. “They’re pretty much official now.”

Your lips stretch in a thin line, and you rest your head on his chest again. 

You don’t want him to see the jealousy in your gaze.

“Good for him.” It sounds just as flat as you feel - like a tire pierced with a nail, emptied of all air.

Jungkook must feel it too, because his grip around you tightens, like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. As if it’d save you from the looming heartbreak.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jungkook whispers a while later, when you thought he was asleep. 

You hope he doesn’t take your silence personal - you just don’t think you can figure it out.

Taehyung would never let it happen. So silence is what you offer Jungkook, and you wonder if the beat his heart skips is an indication that he’s breaking, much like you are breaking too.

Sunday, April 28th 

Time goes by fast. Sometimes, you think it’s even faster when you’re trying to hold on to something - like sand slipping through the fingers of a fist held tight, time has been slipping away.

The end is near. 

You’re sitting on Jungkook’s bed, watching him as he packs his suitcase. He’s been lazy, stopping often so that he can kiss you, hold you. He’s been clingy lately, much like you’ve been.

Like you’ve been trying to fit a whole relationship in just a few weeks. 

Jungkook lifts his head from his sock drawer, meeting your gaze. He smiles, but there’s sadness behind his pupils, lurking in the depths of his eyes. You want to take it away, but all you manage to do is smile a weak smile.

“I wonder if they’ll want to go to the Catacombs,” Jungkook says.

He’s been saying random stuff once in a while as he packs, grasping for a conversation you haven’t been able to join in. But you try, you always try, and you know he’s not mad at you for it.

Jungkook could never be mad at you. 

It’s strange how he changed in the last four months. You think back on the Incident, that dreaded Incident you had believed to be the most embarrassing thing in your life. Today, you know it wasn’t. It was the start of something great, something you wish never had an expiration date.

But nothing gold can stay, or so they say.

“I bet they’re creepy,” you answer. “Not sure I’d go if I were you.”

“I assume you’re the kind of person who gets scared while watching horror movies too, huh?” Jungkook teases, and he walks towards you, hands full of socks.

He drops them in the suitcase at your feet as you slightly shake your head, a teasing smirk growing on your lips. You doubt it meets your eyes, but it’s the best you can do.

“Says you, who prefers watching romance over action,” you tease.

Indeed, the first few times you’ve watched movies together, he’s suggested going for action first. But he never once appeared disappointed when you chose a romance movie, instead beaming at you as he nodded enthusiastically. It was adorable, endearing, like everything is when it comes to Jungkook.

You can hardly believe he used to sleep around, used to be the most renowned fuckboy in your college. Nowadays, Jungkook appears more like a hopeless romantic, and it’s easy to figure out why.

As someone who never received love from his family, he’s been craving it his whole life. At least you think so, and you’ve been giving it to him, pouring it to him, by actions rather than words.

“Nothing beats romance,” he declares, and you chuckle as he plops down on the bed next to you.

You turn your head towards him as he lies down, one hand on his chest.

“Is that why you cry in every movie?”

He frowns, a pout adorning his lips. “I don’t.”

You cock an eyebrow, because obviously he does, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. 

No matter how dreaded the circumstances are, the chemistry between you and Jeon Jungkook is undeniable. And as you look at him, you wonder if there’s a universe out there where you’re allowed to be with him. Where older brothers aren’t a thing, and where you get to call him yours, to scream it from the rooftops.

It douses your enthusiasm, and your smile falls as you look away. 

Jungkook sits up, cupping your cheek to force you to look at him again. He scans your features for a few seconds, and you stare at his eyebrow piercing, as if that will keep you from crumbling.

“You know…” he lets out. He sucks on his lower lip piercings, pulling at them so hard you think it has to hurt. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I really want to make us work.”

His simple sentence empties everything in your head, in your soul, until there’s just him left. 

“But how?”

“I’ll speak to Taehyung,” he says, for what has to be the thousandth time. Indeed, you’ve had that conversation before, but you never once agreed. “I’ll speak to him in Paris, and then when I come back this doesn’t have to be over.”

“This?” you repeat.

“Us.”

You sigh, and you look between his eyes. Hope lights his gaze, and you think there has to be a museum out there to exhibit such beauty. 

Jungkook is breathtaking in every way that matters.

“Tae will kill you,” you say, and the hope slowly withers like flowers in the fall. “Try to have a nice trip instead.”

“Then we can talk to him when I come back,” Jungkook suggests. “Together. I can use you as a human shield if he tries to kill me.”

You snort, and the hope reignites in his gaze. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then he’ll be mad,” Jungkook simply states. “I don’t want to lose you, peach.”

Fuck. You’re in love, and you’re in love deep.

“You might lose his friendship,” you say, but your resolve is melting away far quicker than you expected. Because he’s offering you a silver lining, a life vest in the storm that’s been raging inside your head for weeks.

“I honestly don’t care,” Jungkook says, but you see it in his eyes: he cares, and he’d be hurt. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

You highly doubt so but… what if he does? What if he forgives Jungkook, forgives you?

Then you wouldn’t need to travel to another universe. You’d have this one, and you’d have Jungkook.

Maybe you should try.

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice smaller than the atoms holding your body together.

He nods vehemently. “I am. 100%. I don’t want to lose you when we’ve barely just started.”

“Kook…”

He kisses you then, as if he needs to show you with action instead of words. You end up tangled in his bed, your bodies connected on a level deeper than the physical, yet you wouldn’t dare say it. And he doesn’t either, not even when you inevitably go to bed later that evening. 

You’re nestled in his embrace, a few minutes after he’s turned his LED lights off, when you say, “Kook?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t talk to Tae in Paris,” you say. “We’ll wait for you to come back. And we’ll talk to him together.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. If that’s your wish, then I can do it.” He’d said so earlier after all.

You nod. “I think it’s better if it comes from us both instead of just you.”

“Makes sense.” Jungkook kisses your forehead, and a soft smile spreads on your lips. “And peach?”

“Yeah?” you murmur.

“If you miss me too much, feel free to sleep in my bed and wear my clothes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses your forehead again, and despite the words exchanged, you fear it might mean goodbye.

Prev | Chapter 10.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

no but why did I forget how sad this chapter was? Help, they are so afraid to lose each other :') anywayyys what did you guys think about this chapter? Did you like it?? Please let me know:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[aphrogeneias]

Luiza you have no idea what you’ve done because I’ve wanted to talk about this for ages.

Remember that scene in the bronze where spike and buffy are up on the balcony? And he’s fooling around with her (fingering or fucking her it’s left vague lmao) and he’s telling her to look down at her friends and saying she belongs in the dark with him????

That with Eddie.

do they know?

summary: eddie always knows exactly where to find you, even when you don't want to be found.

pairing: vampire!eddie munson x slayer!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut (+18), a little angst at the beginning. semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, hair pulling, biting.

It's quiet up here, the opposite of what a nightclub should be.

Some stubborn voice in the back of your mind tells you that you should be having fun. You watch your friends from where you're standing, the empty balcony of the club you've been attending for years, dancing and joking around, making up their own silly choreographies as tonight’s band played something groovy.

Robin and Nancy hold each other's hands as they dance, Chrissy spins around in her pretty dress, Barb watches them from her trusty place at your usual table, smiling and singing along. They don't seem to notice how long you've been gone, maybe because you've been doing that a lot lately.

Hiding, that is. Leaving places early, without saying goodbye. You don't mean to, you just don't feel much like yourself these days. Not like the girl you used to be, but something new, different — scarred, tainted by something dark, marked by it.

It isn't easy to explain, the shadow that death leaves on someone. You were way too young when you took on this job, and it took a while until the weight of it started to pull you down, but it was finally starting to.

Maybe it was also due to the fact that you'd recently fallen into a bad habit, who was currently staring up at you from the dancefloor. In the middle of the sparse crowd, the only pair of eyes looking up are a deep brown, finding you in your hiding place.

You're not exactly surprised. Eddie hasn't left town in a while, and you'd seen him a couple of days ago — throwing rocks at your bedroom window until you let him in, climbing under your sheets, leaving before dawn.

If you felt colder without him in the morning than with him in your bed, when he wrapped his body around you like he loved you, you told no one.

Eddie disappears into the crowd until you can feel him again, right behind you. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of looking back, and suddenly, he's there, shielding your body with his, his chest to your back as his arms grab the railing in front of you, surrounding you with his leather clad arms.

The smell of cologne and cigarettes invades your every sense, and you need to keep from inhaling deeply. You wish you could turn around and bury your face on his chest, nuzzle into the worn cotton of his shirt, breathe him in.

You do everything to avoid the strange comfort Eddie brings you. It almost hurts, the intensity with which he draws you in.

“Not exactly the life of the party, are you?” You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, his insufferable stare paired with a grin.

“You know me.” You respond, simply.

“Mhm. You're right, I know you.” His chest vibrates behind you as he hums, caging you in even more. “All work and no play makes the little slayer a huge bitch.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally force yourself to glance at him from over your shoulder. “You came all the way here just to insult me?”

“No, but you make it hard not to.” He chuckles. “Just wanted to check on you, actually.”

He surprises you with a kiss on your shoulder, over your top. The whiplash still hasn't settled with you, the hot and cold of it all. Does he hate you? Does he… No. He doesn't.

“There's nothing to check. I'm clearly fine.” You bite your lip.

“So, you're clearly hiding from your friends”, he keeps kissing you, from your shoulder to your neck, now dragging his lips over bare skin, “for no reason?”

“I'm not hiding.” Swallowing hard, you try to stand your ground, but you already feel your walls start to crumble. “I'm just… tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?” The hands that were on the rail are now in your waist, grabbing and squeezing you, until one of them descends to your hip, and the other up to your back. It slides up your spine, and settles on the back of your neck, while he grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back. “Of keeping up appearances? Pretending to be a good girl?”

You feel it all. His curls brushing your skin, the roughness of the hand that is now on your thigh, rising to feel you under your skirt, his nose digging on your cheek. You're surrounded by him, and regretfully, you wouldn't have it any other way.

“I'm not pretending.” You’re already breathing heavily. “I am good.”

“You sure? I don't know about that.” He finally reaches the crotch of your panties, finding them already sticky with your wetness. His fingers tease you above the fabric, lazily circling your clit, as if he has all the time in the world. “I think you're a bad, bad girl, and you know It too.”

It's all happening at the same time. He's keeping you in place with arm around your waist while he pulls your panties to the side and finally allows you to feel him, “Look at them. Do you think they know?”

You don't speak as he forces you to look forward, down to your blissfully unaware friends. It's dark where you stand, but all they'd have to do was look up and see you in this position. Heat fills your chest, up to your cheeks, and you grab his wrist, attempting to stop him.

He doesn't mind, instead he keeps his hand there, fingers slowly working your clit, dipping to your entrance to collect the slick steadily dripping from you, and back to your little button, “Do you think they know how much of a naughty little slayer you are? Do they know how much you like getting fucked by the big, bad monster you claim to hate? How much you love my fingers in your pussy, how you beg for more?”

Almost as if on cue, you plead. “Please, Eddie. Don't do this to me.”

“Do what?” He whispers, leaning his head down again, locking his lips to your chin, leaving a tender, lingering bite there. “This?”

Finally, he starts fucking you with one of his fingers, and then two. Eddie doesn't waste time, keeping a steady pace, letting you grind your clit on his palm. “You can't deny it because you know it's true. You know you love this, your body claims for me.”

You're grateful for the loud sound of the band playing, drowning out your little whimpers and moans. It's almost embarrassing how close you are already, his voice doing almost all the work for you, his thick fingers caressing your inner walls and hitting that spot inside you over and over.

Delirious little whispers of “yes, yes, yes” leave your bitten lips as you clench around him, tiny white stars behind your eyes as you cum. He keeps whispering sweet nothings in your ear — all you hear is a vague “that's it, that's my girl” at some point — as you come down, still working his fingers inside of you, slowly at first, and then removing them.

When you regain your senses, you notice the bulge in his leather pants digging into your backside.

“Are you bringing stakes around with you now?”

“Funny.” He says, but doesn't laugh. “Find me in the bathroom downstairs in five. I'm not done with you.”

Again, you feel colder when he's gone.

[blood-mocha-latte]

the fic ask: the 60s luztoye AU. and maybe it's sequel in writing?

fanfic ask game

sixties luztoye au (and a sequel snippet at the end of this post)

my favorite scene

“Been hanging with the wrong guys, then.” “Yeah.” George murmured, pressing his forearms into the mattress on either side of Joe’s head as he sank down to kiss him again. “Every guy that’s not you is the wrong guy.” this was actually one of the first parts i wrote for the entire fic, and i just. i have EMOTIONS about it okay. don't look at me

my favorite chapter (if it's a multichapter)

it is a single chapter but of the entire SERIES i'd say that the first part is actually my favorite. but just for right now. because the sequel is hideous and kind of monstrous <3

hardest scene to write

“You’re—” Joe began, and cut himself off, raspy. George just watched him, more quiet than Joe thought he’d ever seen him, mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes forever shining. “You’re always going to be everything to me, I think.” He finally ended up saying. “No matter what. No matter what, you’ll make up everything in the world.” anything overly romantic or corny or heavy on dialogue is hard for me to write because i run into the inevitable issue of struggling to make it NOT sound like a movie from the early 2000s. anyways

favorite character to write in the fic

this is actually some of my favorite toye work i think. it's hard to straddle this line of him being gruff and rather stoic while still being someone who's deeply empathetic and has a lot of heart, but i think this is a fic that doesn't make me Grimace at my own writing so. lmao

favorite dynamic to write in the fic

webgott is there for .00002 seconds but they highly amuse me. they're a hot mess they're in kahoots they hate each other they love each other more you know how it goes. also the luztoye but that's the Boring answer lmao

why I chose that title

from billie holliday's i'll be seeing you. particularly these lyrics: I'll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new I'll be looking at the moon But I'll be seeing you

a fun fact about the fic

i wrote most of it in my hometown, and i think that it sort of helped with this summery nostalgia vibe it has lol

bonus for the lovely lovely linh - sequel snippet

George’s smile faded somewhat. Joe just watched him blearily, always exhausted, anymore, and felt something in his chest twist. “Everyday.” George told him, hoarser than before, twisting his fingers in the cotton of Joe’s sheets as he leaned over him, murmuring the next words against Joe’s neck as he pressed his lips to his pulse point. “Everyday, and night, and in between that, too.” Joe just stared up at the ceiling, the lazily turning fan and the way it seemed to cut through the air, the humidity. He ran a hand through George’s hair, from the nape of his neck upwards.  “What about you?” George shifted enough to ask the words, quiet, against Joe’s cheekbone, trailed down enough to press his mouth against the side of Joe’s own. Joe shifted enough to kiss him, slow and lazy and tired, maybe stalling. “At times,” He began, low, and had to stop, felt something in his throat constrict. “You were my air.”  George made a soft sound and pushed forward to kiss him again. Joe could feel him shaking.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS

this is a super fun tag prompt list, thanks @littleplasticrat!

tagging: @commander-krios @graysparrowao3 and anyone else who wants it!

here we go ✨ below the cut for considerable length, discussion of my generally E-rated work and brief unpopular opinions (lol).

Last book I read: I’m currently part way through The Left Hand of Darkness (Ursula K Le Guin) and Exhalation (Ted Chiang), and am in a constant state of rereading Pride and Prejudice. Honestly just been writing more than reading lately but I really want to finish these two books! I also devoured The New Topping Book as fuel for my Steel Weave kink adventures, lmao.

Greatest literary inspiration: Pride and Prejudice. Austen in general. (Story time) I once dated a guy who dismissed her books out of hand as ‘gossipy’, and then literally days later proceeded to tell me that when drinking with his bestie, they loved to ‘analyse other people’s personalities.’ What he thought he had that Austen didn’t, I don’t know. (God, the sexism. And yes, I did tell him that what he was doing was in fact also gossiping).

Austen sketches people in all their ignorance and kindness and flaws and virtues at once, whilst being deeply funny about it. I love her work.

Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:

I LOVE omeluum x blurg. No desire to write for them but they’re great. (Check out weatheredlaw on AO3 for amazing Omelurg!)

Generally I’ve read and enjoyed for all of the tadpole gang and all sorts of other characters, but aside from having them feature in my Rolan fics the urge doesn’t strike me to write about them. My thoughts are extremely occupied with just the one guy.

Things in my current fandoms I want to write but I think nobody would be interested in them but me: Unhinged kink fics. If I ever write them, I’ll probably post on an alt account, because I think my current subscribers probably aren’t looking for [redacted niche kink] lol

You can recognise my writing by:

Relentlessly horny vibes. Bratty Rolan.

I honestly don’t know if I’ve got a particularly recognisable style - it varies a lot between the fandoms I write in, I think. I’m not given to lots of purple prose but neither is my writing spare. I overdo it on facial expressions, that’s for sure!

My most controversial take ( current fandom):

In an absolute shocker, I don’t enjoy dom!Rolan at all, or see it as particularly in-character. But you could guess that already if you’re following me lol. I filter all related tags/content liberally…

Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): It was a 9-10, and has been for months - but this week I’ve been smacked in the face with a real stumbling block so I’ll give it a (hopefully temporary) 6-7

Top three favourite tropes: Oooh. Ahhhh. Forced Proximity - only one bed, handcuffed together, trapped in a lift - whatever. Just make those people boil over with desire because they CANNOT AVOID the person they’re desperately trying to. Arguing. I love steamy argumentative kissing in stories. Forbidden Love. I am ESPECIALLY a huge fan of priests/nuns/religiously celibate breaking their vows, but doctor/patient is good too (Harvey SDV my beloved), or university professor/student, or sworn members of separate factions. Whatever. I want that sexual tension to be so fucking scorching it breaks through every barrier, and their love to conquer all.

Share a random frustration: Chapter 10 of Planar Tears. It’s coming along now but - I don’t like falling behind schedule! It’s also once again illustrated to me that although outlining is useful, at some points my characters will just develop a mind of their own. I just realised that after the last two extremely dramatic plot chapters - there needs to be a similarly dramatic step in Rolan and Catrin’s relationship as payoff. I think that’s the issue, anyway. I’d written a load of relatively lowkey flirty fluff and it just. Wasn’t. Hitting. I have honestly entered the stage of ‘please fucking kill me I no longer know if this writing is good’ and think I just have to weather the storm here!

[bellafragolina]

Can I request Ingo (subway or warden doesn’t matter) and Laventon being outed or forced to confess their feelings for their long term crush only for their crush to look horribly confused and go ‘we weren’t already dating?’

LMAO! I love this so much! What a nice change of pace compared to all the angst I've been writing (she says like she didn't choose to write angst of her own volition). I'll do subway Ingo since it's easier to imagine how he'd be outed

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo:

You two had been hanging out a lot, and Emmet was taking notes. He managed to weasel his way into one of these outings that Ingo refused to call dates, and had a bright grin the entire trip to the arcade

The three of you were having a blast playing the new Dance Dance Revolution game. It was competitive and fun to show off stupid moves to one another. However, as the twins began their dance off, the competition took a turn for the worse

Arms flew, legs kicked, twins were shoved, and you were not spared from the fight. As Ingo accused Emmet of being a cheater, Emmet came back out of left field:

"At least I'm not too scared to confess to the one I love!"

Silence. Ingo is bright red, looking at you and your confused face. He shuffles his feet, glares at Emmet, who's grimacing. With a heavy heart, he admits to his feelings for you. His entire speech, every word he says just makes your eyes grow wider and wider, your face flushing just as deeply as his

"You mean we weren't already dating?" You squeak, and Ingo nearly faints.

Some say you can still hear Emmet laughing to this day

Laventon:

Rei is a sweet kid, really. He's like a little brother to you, or maybe a son. You treat him like family, and he treats you the same, which means teasing you from time to time. You take it in good humor, but Laventon, another piece of your mismatched family, doesn't

"The professor has a crush!~" Rei singsongs, to Laventon's utter horror.

"Oh?" You cock a brow, amused.

"Rei!" Laventon shrieks, outing himself on it being true.

With a heavy blush, Laventon tries to deny having a crush of any kind. You start to tease him with Rei, however, and the poor professor grows so flustered that the dams break. He speaking without pause, express his admiration and love for you like he'll die if it doesn't come out within the next five seconds.

You balk at him when he's done, utterly speechless, and even Rei's smirk starts to fall some

You shrink into yourself. "You mean we weren't already courting?"

Rei pisses himself laughing, and you all three get yelled at by Cyllene for causing such a ruckus. When she see Laventon has you in a bear hug, she rolls her eyes. About time. Kamado owes her some potato mochi

🍓🍓🍓

What little shits. Family, am I right?

~Renee

[husbandograveyard]

Moonlight Dances - Leona x Reader

Look, I swear I am also working on requests. But I have a lot of love for Leona and not a lot of requests for him so I am just doing the work myself lmao. Enjoy this little scenario <3

2nd person. Gn reader.

You sighed out in frustration as you leaned your elbows on the balcony rails. Behind you, through the closed doors, you could still hear the faint sound of the music playing. You looked down at your attire, all dressed up, all… for nothing.

There was a ball at NRC, and you had foolishly assumed this would be an excellent moment to have an actual date with your boyfriend. After all, he was a housewarden, and those were expected to be present at such events.

But then again, there wasn’t a single event where every single one of the house wardens were present: the Ignihyde one sending his device to communicate rather than himself, and usually, the Diasomnia one wasn’t even invited. Top that off with one lazy lion who really hated doing public stuff like that when there was no real benefit to it, meant that at least one housewarden was missing on every such occasion, and today of all days, that lazy lion boyfriend of yours was the one to skip out on the event.

If there was nothing to lose by not going, and nothing to win from going, Leona couldn’t be bothered. And while usually you loved his carefree and lazy attitude, you had let him know repeatedly that you really wanted him to go to the ball with you. You wanted to spend an evening with him that wasn’t lazing around. An actual date. You had even foolishly daydreamed about maybe dancing a little with him.

You went back inside, looking for Ruggie, hoping to get some kind of hope from him, like Leona simply being too late because he overslept. Surely, that was something that didn’t happen very often, because of the very person you were looking for, but you couldn’t help but hope.

The way Ruggie’s ears fell flat a little the moment he made eye contact with you, told you all you needed to know.

“I’m sorry y/n, I really tried dragging him out. But I couldn’t convince him and I was running late myself-” You shook your head and held up a hand to make him stop talking. “I know you do your best, I don’t blame you. I am just,” you let out a deep sigh, “extremely disappointed. But I don’t need you to figure out my relationship or fight out my fights. I will go talk to him myself.”

You left the ball early, sure there wasn’t any fun to be had while you were in a bad mood, and you had to get it all out of your system before bedtime. You marched to Savanaclaw dorm, straight to the biggest room, and slammed open the door. As expected, a familiar silhouette lay on the bed, seemingly undisturbed by your grand entrance.

You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put your thoughts into words in your head first before speaking them out loud. You wanted to make your feelings clear. Tell him how much he had hurt you. But you also wanted to stay calm, and you- well, you weren’t exactly sure what else you wanted. But you did know you didn’t want this to turn into a shouting match. Or a moment where you let your heart out only to get a half-hearted apology followed by sleepy cuddles because that spoiled boyfriend of yours was so used to always getting his way.

The silence unnerved him enough to make him sit up, as you felt his weight shift and the blankets tug away from you as he did so.

“Y/n…”, he started, but he was stopped almost immediately by you holding up your hand. He crawled a little closer, moving to sit next to you at the edge of the bed. You turned your head away when you felt his stare on the side of your face.

He looked up and down your figure, noticing your attire, and made the click. He knew why you were there. He knew why you were upset with him. But he also was confused. You had been together for a while now, and you must’ve known better than to assume he’d come and surprise you at the ball after he had repeatedly told you that he did not want to go.

You sighed deeply before talking. You still refused to lift your head and talk to him, instead talking to your hands that were resting in your lap.

“I-..”, you sighed again, not sure if even after all the thinking you had done, you were even going to be able to coherently explain yourself, “I am disappointed, I guess. Disappointed in you, surely, but also in myself. For being dumb enough to think that maybe, just this once, you’d want to hang out with me in public. That maybe, you would show me off, be proud to have a partner at a public event. Or even if you didn’t want to do all that, that we could just get some snacks, sneak off to the balcony and listen to the music. That maybe… we’d get to dance, and I’d get to spend a proper date with the man I love. Because… I truly don’t care about dates, balls, big things. But I do feel like.. you don’t think I am worth the effort? You didn’t have to dress up or anything. Just come out, and spend some time with me that’s not napping and cuddling, either in the botanical gardens or your room.” Once the words had started flowing, there was no way to stop them. You wandered, from the ball, to other issues, most of them coming down to one thing: you were afraid that Leona wasn’t taking this relationship seriously, you were afraid that he was growing tired of you, you were terrified to lose him, and tonight, for a brief moment, you thought that you had.

Leona listened quietly, knowing better than to interrupt you while you were pouring your heart out. He felt pained, and a little guilty. Because, truly, he didn’t care about the ball, but that didn’t mean he felt the same way about you? He loved you more than anything in the world, and you were one of the few things that made him genuinely happy. He had never said so, because sappy words were not his style, but he realized only now that maybe he had been underappreciating your presence. The fact that he wanted to spend so much time with you was a clear sign of his affection according to himself, but he didn’t think that not doing more would make you feel so inadequate, so unwanted, while he wanted nothing but you.

But these feelings were also way too hard for him to put into words, especially since yours had made his mouth feel dry, and a pit in his stomach grow. He felt bad to his core, and he knew there were very little things he could say to actually make it up to you.

So instead he stood up from the bed, and stood in front of you, bending down slightly so he could take your hands, and pull you up as well. This was the moment you looked up, hurt still apparent on your features, but now making place for some confusion as well. He looked into your eyes, the bright green color that always pulled you in somehow, shimmering even more bright as it reflected the moonlight that shone through the window.

Leona didn’t utter a word as he lead you outside, the cool evening breeze hitting your skin and making you shiver. The moon was shining so bright, you didn’t even need to turn on any outside lights. Leona finally let go of your hands and moved his hands to your waist before you could even open your mouth to ask what he was doing. His movements made it very clear though, as he started slow-dancing, slowly, to no tune at all. His movements were very deliberate, never truly forcing you to move, but making it feel only natural to do so.

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you danced in silence, knowing that this was as good an apology as you were going to get. Taking a few deep breaths, you felt most of the anger ebb away, but not entirely. There was something lasting a little, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You were missing something, but if asked, you wouldn’t be able to answer what exactly it is that you were missing.

“I do love you, you know”

It was quiet, murmured against your cheek, more of a thought than an actual confession, but it managed to fill the void you were feeling earlier. Leona never was one to actually say those words out loud, letting his actions speak for his feelings and showing affection in his own way. It was something you knew before you got together but still made it hard to keep it going sometimes. Times like now, where you had felt so… lonely, even in the relationship.

And just like that, most of the worries were gone, and so was the anger, and the sadness. You knew you would still need to have a conversation about this, but you also realized that now was not the time. Now, you would just enjoy the closeness, the love, and the fact that you did get a moonlight dance from your boyfriend, although not at the ball.

[leossmoonn]

Second Chance

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff, lil angst

note / request - “hi! can we get a carl x reader during like season 10. they were together in the past and they broke up, but hang out everyday. but carl still likes her so he tries getting her back.” this is so trash lmao, but enjoy!

summary - you and carl dated a while back, but now are just friends. he spends the day with you, hoping to win you back

warnings - language, underage drinking, suggestive content but no real smut

————

*gif isnt mine* 

“Hey, C-Bear!” You called out.

“‘Sup, Y/n/n!” Carl smiled at you. You ran up the stairs of his porch and gave him a tight hug.

“How was Florida?” Carl asked once you pulled back.

“Hot as shit, but fun. How was Chicago?” You asked a giggle.

“Same old,” he shrugged.

You looked at your best friend and smiled. “So, what’re we gonna do today? It is the last day of summer.”

“I was thinking of just hanging out here. It’s too hot to do anything,” Carl shrugged.

You nodded, “Sounds good.”

You two walked into Carl’s house. You saw Franny on the couch with Debbie.

“Hey, Debs. Hi, Fran-Fran!” You squealed and went over to Franny.

“Y/n!” Franny exclaimed.

“How have you been, squirt?” You asked the little girl, picking her up in your arms.

“Good,” she smiled widely. “Good,” you smiled.

Carl looked at you while talking to Franny, absolutely mesmerized.

You and Carl had dated the previous summer. You two had a good run. You lasted for 6 months before Carl had met a girl named Anne at his job. You noticed him slipping away slowly everyday. It broke your heart and you knew that you had to end it. Carl obviously didn’t realize he was falling in love with someone else, so you sat him down and told him you were breaking up with him. It hurt like a bitch for you, but you knew it was for the best so you wouldn’t end up getting more hurt in the end. You handled it maturely, telling him that you two could still be friends no matter what. You two were friends way before you dated, anyways. 

Carl handled it differently, though. He was angry at you for accusing him for falling in love with another girl. He cursed at you, stormed out of your car, and didn’t talk to you for 2 weeks. You missed him, but you were kind of thankful he left you alone. 

In those 2 weeks, you were able to rediscover your self worth. You managed to convince yourself that Carl was just like every other guy at your age; stupid. You knew you were hot shit and if he didn’t want you, then that was his loss. 

Even though you said this to yourself everyday, the hurt feelings didn’t stop. It took you a good 2 months to stop thinking about Carl and Anne together, him possibly cheating on you while he was on the job. You finally got over all the anxious thoughts and were happier now. You’d never admit it, but you were still in love with Carl, and you knew that he was the one, but the one that got away. 

Those 2 weeks for Carl were absolute hell. He missed you so much and started to pull away from Anne. Pulling away from Anne made him realize that you were right. That he was slowly falling in love with another woman, but he also realized that he loved you more. He took those 2 weeks to straighten himself up. He did pep-talks with himself, had his brothers help him out in what to do. They gave him hell for letting you go. Even they knew you were the one for him and reminded him of it everyday.  

Carl called you up after those two weeks and you agreed to try and be friends. It was hard for the first month, for both of you. You two were quiet and awkward when you hung out. You wouldn’t even hug him goodbye when you left his house, much less a high-five. But, it gradually got easier. You two saw each other more and fell into a comfortable rhythm, which consisted of you ignoring your feelings of love for him, and Carl acknowledging his feelings for you, always thinking of ways to get you back, but none of them working out. 

Now it was a year later and you two were back to being best friends like you were before you started dating. You had pushed the feelings you had for Carl away so much, it was barely there anymore. It was the opposite for Carl, he was still so deeply in love with you. So now that it was the last day of summer, he had planned to spend the whole day with you, try and woo you and get you back. 

“Are you hungry?” Carl asked, grabbing back your attention. 

You nodded. “Starving.”

“I think we have some cookies we can bake, right Debs?” Carl asked his sister. 

“I think so. We also have decorating icing, too,” Debbie said. 

“Great! What kind of cookies do you guys have?” You asked, going over to the kitchen.  “Just chocolate chip, I think. Maybe sugar cookies?” Debbie said. 

You hummed and looked in their fridge and found two rolls of chocolate chip and sugar cookies. 

“Found ‘em!” You exclaimed excitedly. 

Carl went into the kitchen with you, smiling at the happy expression you had on your face.

“Help me put them on a tray?” You asked. 

Carl nodded and went next to you. He took the sugar cookie roll and broke it into pieces. Debbie walked over to the kitchen, taking a seat, wanting to catch up with you.

“So, why did you guys do in Florida?” Debbie asked. 

“Went swimming, went to Universal Studios. We went to a lot of nice restaurants. I met a few cute guys there, too,” you smiled. 

“Ooh, really?” Debbie smirked. “Any that stuck?”

“This one kid named Josh. We played volleyball on the beach for a while. He told me he liked my swim suit,” you smirked. 

“Did you two hook up,” Debbie asked.  

Carl tensed at her words. He hoped you would say no. You weren’t like someone to jump into things like that so fast. Sure, you had a few boyfriends before Carl, but he knew that you took time in getting to know him. Plus, your first time was with him. 

“Nah. I’m pretty sure he had a girlfriend. There was a girl on the beach that kept glaring at me and hanging onto his arm. I even saw them kiss a few times,” you snorted. 

“Wow, he sounds like an ass,” Debbie said. 

“Yep. That’s why I rejected his kind offer to fuck,” you laughed.

“Atta girl,” Debbie gave you a high-five. 

“Yeah, I didn’t really feel like becoming the talk of the town or whoever those people lived,” you chuckled. 

"It’s good you said no,” Carl chimed in. 

“Oh, yeah, why? Besides the obvious,” you raised a brow. 

“Because it’s not you to hook up randomly,” Carl said. 

“Are you implying I’m a prude,” you chuckled. 

“No, no. I just... you waited until we dated to fuck, I-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut Carl off. You moved to put the cookies in the oven. Carl couldn't see it, but you were very flustered.

Him mentioning your romantic past brought up memories. These memories were the ones you didn’t mind remembering. They just made your legs weak heart swell. 

Carl was right, you did wait until you two were dating to have sex. You wanted it to be special and even though you two were just friends at the time, before you two were dating, you knew that sex with him would be special. And to your delight, it was. He was gentle, sweet, loving. He payed attention to you the whole time. It was one of the things you knew would live in your memory forever. 

“You waited?” Debbie asked. “Yeah,” you stood back up and shrugged. 

“Wow, I wish I had your self control,” Debbie snorted.

“It wasn't about self control. It was just knowing who was right for me,” you said. Your gaze fell on Carl as you said those words. 

He had a small on his face, to which you returned. Your heart fluttered at the sight, which made you avert your gaze immediately. Even though you didn’t mind the memories, you did mind the feelings they and him brought. As much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was still attracted to him. 

That part of you was the one you constantly had to push away. You had to remind yourself what he did. How he fell in love with another girl. How he let go someone good, kind, so loving and supportive. You knew if you let that other part of you invade your mind and feelings, you would be in his bed making out with him and possibly getting hurt, which was something you didn’t want. 

“How long do these have to bake?” Carl asked. 

“Like 15-20 minutes,” you said. He nodded and put his tray in the oven. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Carl asked. 

“Sure,” you nodded. 

“I’m gonna go and meet Claudia. Watch Franny for me?” Debbie asked. 

“I’d love to!” You smiled. You loved Franny. She was such an easy and good kid to watch. She took care of herself, too, so all you had to do was make her food whenever she was hungry.

“Great, thank you. I’ll see you guys later!” Debbie smiled and left the house. 

“Franny, do you wanna watch a movie with us?” You asked the little girl. 

“Yeah!” She smiled. 

“Great! What movie do you want to watch?” You asked. 

Carl smiled at you as you talked to Franny. Seeing you play with Franny was one of the things that made him fall in love with you. Seeing a girl good with kids was attractive as hell. 

“She wants to watch Sleeping Beauty,” you said and walked over with Franny to the couch. 

“Alright. I’ll put in the DVD,” Carl said. 

“Thanks,” you smiled.

He smiled back at you and nodded. You sat on the couch, Franny sitting next to you. Carl walked back to the couch and groaned internally. He was planning on sitting next to you so you could lay your head on his shoulders whenever you go tired, which was something you did during every movie you two watched together. But now you couldn’t do that because Franny was sitting in the middle. 

“What’s wrong, C-Dog?” You noticed his annoyance. 

“Nothing. I’ve just watched this movie a billion times,” he sighed. 

“That's what you get for having a little child in the house,” you chuckled and turned your attention over to the movie. 

About 20 minutes in the movie, the oven beeped, singling that the cookies were done. 

“Franny, do you want to decorate cookies or watch the movie?” You asked while getting up. 

“I wanna watch the movie,” she said. 

“Alright, kid. Don’t cause any trouble in here. Aunt Y/n and Uncle Carl will be in the kitchen,” you said and patted her head. 

She giggled and you left to go to the kitchen with Carl. 

“You’re really good with her,” Carl complimented you. 

“Thank you. I have two little brothers, so I’ve learned a thing or two about kids. You just gotta treat them like adults, but also make sure they know they’re boundaries. Franny is such a good kid, though, she doesn’t need a lot of boundaries or rules,” you explained. 

Carl nodded. “Oh, yeah. How are Lucas and Lyle?”

“Trouble,” you chuckled. Carl laughed with you. “I bet not as much trouble as I was when I was little.”

“Hm, true,” you giggled, recalling memories of when you two were in elementary school. 

“You’ve shaped up good, though. Military school helped with that,” you complimented. 

“Thank you. You’ve always been good. Even when we broke up,” Carl remarked. 

You met his eyes. A frown was plastered on your lips. “Thank you. I try not to be sour and shit. I know it gets me nowhere.”

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way,” Carl sighed, referring two his 2-week temper tantrum. 

You gave him a kind smile. “It’s alright. I’m glad we stayed friends, though.”

Yeah, friends, Carl thought in dismay.

He put on a fake smile though. “Me, too.”

You went over to the cupboard and got out some decorative icing that you found. You put them on the kitchen counter and picked up a sugar cookie. 

“What’re you gonna put on yours?” You asked. 

“A penis,” Carl said. 

You rolled your eyes, but laughed. “I take back what I said about you shaping up.”

Carl laughed with you,  “Hey! Not fair. You asked me and I responded honestly.”

“True,” you giggled. You squirted some icing on Carl’s face, irrupting into a fit of laughter when it got all over the left side of his face. 

“And I take back what I said about you always being mature!” Carl exclaimed, squirting some icing on you. It landed on your collar bone. Carl eyed the bare skin, licking his lips, wishing he could lick it up. 

You noticed his stare. Your heart couldn’t help but race. You felt yourself start to get sweaty under your armpits. You averted your gaze and got a towel to wipe the icing off. Carl grabbed the towel out of your hands. 

“Here, let me,” Carl offered. “I was the one to make the mess.” You rolled his eyes. You knew this was one of his ways of trying to flatter you and kiss you. You let him, though. You would never admit it to anyone, but you liked when he did these things. Not so much because he was still pining over you, but it reminded you of how much of a caring boyfriend he was. 

You leaned against the counter while Carl wetted the towel. He gently wiped the icing of your collar bone. Your heart skipped a beat as his fingertips brushed lightly over your skin. His face was abnormally close to yours, too. He was crouched down and looked up to you every so often. It made your stomach flip. It reminded you of when he ate you out, looking up at you with his lips glistening. You averted your gaze, feeling warmth spread between your legs. 

Carl was taking an annoyingly long time. You sighed heavy, hoping he would be done soon because if not, you would just end up kissing him. To your releif, he backed away from you, throwing the towel in the sink. He got another towel to wipe his face off.  

Even though you looked relieved on the outside, your heart was begging for him to comeback and be close to again, to tease you. 

“Did you like that?” Carl asked, smirking at you. 

“No, you were very slow,” you lied. Carl frowned at you and looked away. You felt bad, but you didn’t say anything.

“Let’s finish the cookies so Franny can eat some,” you said. 

Carl nodded. You two decorate the cookies in silence. You put them on plates, bringing them into the living room. 

“Here, Franny,” you said and put one of the plates on the table. You sat back down, Carl following slowly after you. 

You took a few cookies, giving Franny two and keeping two for yourself. 

“Thank you,” Franny said. 

You gave her a sweet smile. “You are very welcome.”

Carl took a couple cookies and slumped back on the couch. The tension between you two was thick. It hadn't been like this for a while, but you knew to just let it subside until you felt ready to talk again. Luckily, the movie was still going, so you had an excuse to not converse. By the end of the movie, Franny had fallen asleep. Her head was on your lap and the rest of her body was on Carl’s. When the movie was done, Carl helped you carry Franny back up to Debbie’s room. You two tucked her in and went back downstairs. 

You went back into the kitchen, grabbing two beer bottles for Carl and you. 

“Thanks,” Carl said when you handed him a bottle. 

You hummed in reply and sat back down on the couch. You turned on the TV, switching to re-runs. Carl sat next to you, leaving lots of space in-between you two.  

“How is everyone else doing?” You asked. 

“Good. Lip and Tami have Freddy and Ian has Mickey,” Carl said. 

“Wow, everyone is shacked up, huh?” You asked. 

“Yeah, even Debbie. She gets mad money, too,” Carl chuckled. 

“It’s weird the way the world works,” you remarked, half paying attention to Golden Girls. “Have you met any girls this summer?” You asked, your stomach flipping thinking about his answer.

“A few, but I’m not really interesting in dating,” Carl shrugged. 

You turned to him, fully surprised. “Carl Gallagher, not interested in dating? I think the world is ending.”

Carl chuckled, “I’m just not interesting in dating the girls I met.” Carl scooted closer to you while saying those words, putting a hand on your thigh. 

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. Carl was getting closer and closer to you. You didn’t move, though. You liked his touch and being in his vicinity. 

“Who are you interested in dating?” You whispered. 

Carl’s eyes burned into yours. They drifted down to your lips and back up to your eyes. Your body shivered and butterflies shot down your whole body. You found yourself moving closer to him, putting your hand over his. 

“You,” Carl spoke. 

You looked into his eyes deeply. You could tell he meant what he said. The look on his face was almost enough for you to kiss him, but you pulled away. His hand slipped off your thigh. You stood up off the couch, putting on your shoes. 

“I should go. It’s late and my parents are probably wondering where I am,” you said, avoiding eye contact. 

“No, stay. Your parents know where you are and probably aren’t worried. You always stay over,” Carl protested. 

“I’m tired, anyways. Plus, Lucas and Lyle probably miss me,” you made up more excuses and went  to the front door. 

Carl ran to you and put his hand on your arm. 

“Stay, Y/n. I’m not letting you go this time,” Carl said. 

You turned to him, tears in your eyes. “I don’t love you anymore, Carl, not like that.”

“I know you’re lying. I’m not as dumb as people think, okay? I see it in your eyes. I notice you breathing heavily when I come close to you. I know you still love me. I still love you. I’m still in love with you,” he confessed. 

“Listen, Carl,” you sighed. “I know you want to make it up to me, I appreciate it, but I’m not letting myself get hurt again.”

“I know I hurt you, Y/n. I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m stupid as shit. It hurts me every fucking time I see you. It hurt me so much to see you cry because of me. I do want to make it up to you, but I also want you back. I need you, Y/n. Please, give me a chance. I need you so fucking bad,” Carl pleaded. His voice broke and tears shined in his eyes. 

You shook your head. “I said I don’t love you anymore! Let me go!” You shouted. You wanted so desperately to get out of the house because you knew if you stayed, you would end up kissing him. 

“No,” Carl said. With that, he pulled you into his arms and crashed his lips on yours. 

With Carl’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, and his soft lips on yours, you could’t help but finally give in. You melted into the kiss, putting your hands on the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. Carl slammed you against the wall, his fingertips digging into your sides. The kiss was fast, rough, passionate. 

You were so glad that you gave in. You missed this feeling more than you would ever admit.

Carl pulled away, putting his hand on your cheek. His thumb ran across your bottom lip. His eyes stared into yours. 

“Give me another chance. I promise I won’t hurt you again,” Carl promised. 

You sighed and nodded. You knew he had good intentions, and that he was the one for you. “You better not. Or I will beat you up.”

Carl smiled, pulling you into another deep kiss. 

————

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[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids​ pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED

[lilxberry]

That’s My Girl - Scott Lang

Requested by: @bnhaxreaderquotes​

Could I have a Scott Lang x longterm girlfriend fic?? Where she’s like super strong but super dumb?? Like she’s Thor but human and female XD bonus if she lifts Thor’s hammer to get to something and everyone’s like 👀 and she’s like ??? And scots like 🥰 “that’s my gf”

I loved this idea, I just really didn’t want to use the word stupid so much lmao I mostly referred to reader as “slow” I believe but like, this whole thing is kinda cute asf so I’m happy with it. I hope you’re happy with it too

Warnings: Like, a singular swear. Sweet ass Scott. Upset!Reader? IDEK ANYMORE.

Words: 1,645

Pairings: Scott Lang x Reader (female reader) (super strong reader?)

Unplanned sequel; That’s My Wife

_______________

There’re many words to describe you.

Sweet? Yes. Kind? Yep. Selfless? Definitely. Beautiful? 100%. Strong? No doubt.

Stupid?

No, just…slow.

It’s not that you lacked intelligence, just, your brain worked at a different pace to that of others. Your fellow teammates could tell you that. Especially your partner Scott.

Scott, the sweetie pie that he is, certainly tries his best to help you catch up, to understand things that hadn’t really made sense to you at first. He’s no stranger to defending you either, no matter who or what it’s against.

Including your teammates.

“So, like C-3P0?”

Your head was tilted in confusion and your face was scrunched up as you tried desperately to understand what Tony was talking about.

You had walked into the lab finding all of the Avengers surrounding Tony rambling on about his newest creation, engineering some crazy new robotic tech. The others that had been subjected to his showcasing had explained to you that he’d called them in, forced them to watch the unveiling of Frankenstarks newest monster.

When you had asked why you hadn’t been called in, you’d missed the way Tony and the others tensed up. They knew that you wouldn’t understand a word Stark was speaking, as if the man were speaking some foreign language to you, but they didn’t want to explain that it was because you were ‘dense’.

The heaven-sent that is Scott stepped forward, a big, bright smile on his face as he entwined his fingers with your own as he came up with an excuse for the billionaire, saving Starks’ skin and sparing your feelings.

“He thought you’d find it boring. We all do to be honest honey but only so many of us are lucky enough to have an out,” was the sugar-coated explanation he conjured up on the spot.

You bought it easily, nodding in understanding with the sweetest of smiles before reaching up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. The others visibly relaxed, though you were oblivious as you stared up at Scott with a love-sick expression.

You had then gone on to ask what exactly it was that Tony had been working on which had led to a longwinded explanation with wild gestures and a heap of words you certainly didn’t understand whatsoever. Truth be told, he’d lost you within the first sentence.

Tony heaved a sigh. “No, not like C-3P0. The design is completely different and the level of A.I. being used it higher than that of C-3P0,” he spoke exasperatedly, a mocking tone taking over his tone near the end.

Feeling even more confused that what you had originally felt, you tried once more to understand.

“So…like Vision?”

Sam snorted as majority of the others smirked or tried to supress their smiles, Vision unsurprisingly seemed stoic as ever. Tony, on the other hand, had a look of genuine surprise. Almost looking proud.

“Uh, yeah, actually. You worked that out a lot faster than I thought you would honestly,” Tony said as an off-handed comment causing the others to still and Scott to tense slightly beside you while your brows furrowed.

“What’d you mean?”

Scott once again interjected to save the day, dragging your attention to him instead. “None of us really got it, that’s all. I’m pretty sure Thor still doesn’t, honestly.” He whispered the last part as he pointed his thumb towards the towering, blonde Asgardian.

Although your heart fluttered at the thought of Scott trying to be so sweet and kind to you, you couldn’t help the hurt that spread through you. You knew how the others viewed you, how they thought you were stupid, how you don’t understand anything.

Rather than show it affected you, you forced a smile on to your face and a tiny giggle to pass your lips.

Glancing at the others before allowing your eyes to fall back on to your boyfriend, you kept the feigned smile on your lips as you spoke. “I just remembered I gotta load of stuff to do. I’ll see you guys later.”

Scott flashed you his pearly whites in a wide smile before pecking your forehead and giving you a quiet “Sure babe.”

Walking backwards, you called out loudly to the group before exiting the room. “Have fun with Vision 2.0.”

Usually, when the team unintentionally commented on you in such a way, it would never really affect in such a negative way but today, it was just a series of failure after failure, your day all-round being bad.

From the comment in the lab, to the accidental breaking of a trainee’s arm due to you forgetting the strength you held over others, to Steve and Bucky taking the last of the coffee in the pot of the coffee machine which you had no idea how to work.

You had even bumped into someone in the hallway, the file you had been carrying falling to the ground and the papers inside scattering across the floor in disarray, leaving you to try reorganising the lot, taking a whole hour and a half.

It’s unfortunate that the person to be at the end of your disgruntled mood would be someone who you strongly considered a friend.

The Avengers who were currently residing at the compound were all scattered within the main living area and the open kitchen when you walked in, looking dishevelled as you frantically searched for a package that you had been notified had been delivered.

Walking through, you looked to see if the damn thing was atop any table you passed. Hell, you even lifted one of the chairs slightly to see if someone was cruel enough to hide the thing under it.

Although everyone had opted to watch you curiously, it was your sweet Scott to break the silence.

“Hey honey, whatcha’ doing there?” he asked curiously.

You grumbled out your answer, honestly ready for the day to be over with. “I’m looking for my delivery.”

Sam snorted before pointing towards the island in the centre of the kitchen. “You mean that massive package right there?”

Low and behold, there sat your package on top of the cool, marble surface, just with an added feature. You scowled, storming over towards the thing. You turned your fiery gaze to Thor, who was overall minding his own business chowing down on the entire contents of a Pop Tart box.

“WHY DID YOU PUT YOUR HAMMER ON MY FUCKING DELIVERY?!” You roared out, everyone’s eyes widened in complete and utter shock, Thor even jumped at the sudden loud booming. As he opened and reclosed his mouth repeatedly in a pathetic attempt to say something, anything, you continued.

“There could’ve been something really important in there! Or-or super fragile or something! What if you broke it?!”

During your explosion at the poor Asgardian, you happened to grasp the handle of Mjölnir and lift it with ease, causing everyone’s eyes to widen further and even a few mouths to drop open, gaping at the sight in front of them, Tony choking on his drink that he had been taking a sip of. Although Scott was just as shocked as those around him, he more so looked like a small child who’s completely wonder-struck, a twinkle in his eye.

“Never, and I mean NEVER, put your hammer on my damn things again. GOT IT?!” You shoved the hammer into Thors’ chest harshly, causing him to fumble to get a hold of it.

Once certain he had a tight grasp on the thing, you released your hold and spun on the spot, now becoming witness to everyone’s flabbergasted expressions. “WHAT?” you asked in exasperation and confusion, today completely tiring you out mentally and emotionally.

A pregnant silence befell you all before Scott suddenly jumped out of his seat, face ecstatic, arms raised high into the air above his head, hands balled up into fists, a loud and excited shout escaping him.

“YES!”

“You-you’re worthy?” Thor asked quietly to no one in particular.

Your brows furrowed deeply, now entirely confused and ever so slightly self-conscious. “What?”

“You’re worthy babe! Hell yeah! Up top!” he had made his way over towards you, now one arm raised with his hand now relaxed, waiting on you to give him a high five.

“I’m not following…”

“Only Thor could lift the hammer ‘cause he was the only one who’s worthy or whatever. It’s like impossible for anyone else to lift it,” Clint started to explain before being cut off by Natasha.

“Until you, that is. You’re the only other one whose been able to lift it.”

“Oh,” was all you said before shrugging your shoulders and waddling your way past Scott and towards your package on the kitchen island, picking it up and beginning to walk away.

Before you left though, you thought this to be the perfect opportunity to finally boast about something that you had been able to do that the others couldn’t. “Well, I may be stupid but at least I don’t put my back out by trying to lift a little hammer.”

You smirked as you continued to walk away, your destination being your room, package what would be heavy to most in your arms. Scott laughed loudly, something you could hear as you continued to retreat to your bedroom.

Meanwhile…

“HELL YEAH! THAT’S MY GIRL! WOO!” Scott began to follow after you, still shouting out every single word he spoke. “HONEY! THAT WAS LIKE THE COOLEST THING EVER! DID YOU SEE THEIR FACES?! Oh man, I can’t wait to tell Cass. SHE’S GONNA FREAK!”

The Avengers were still suck in their retrieves of shock, all unmoving, all trying to process the newfound information that you could lift the hammer.

Thor seemed to be taking it the worst, looking ever so slightly frightened, gulping loudly.

“I believe I have new matters to discuss with my father...”

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I love any Paul Rudd character just as much as him

I even have a t-shirt with his beautiful ass face on lmao

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

Marvel taglist:

@thanossexual

[faeiasworld]

~ Pick-a-card: What you don’t see about yourself ~

Hey everyone! Welcome to my first pick-a-card reading!! Well, I’ll just assume that you already know what this reading is about on the title lol.

How to pick a pile: Pick the pile you feel most drawn to. If you feel the need to, take 3 deep breaths. Use your intuition!

Piles 1-3 (from left to right)

Pile 1:

Welcome Pile 1, first off I’m getting some air energy (gemini, libra, aquarius), as well as fixed energy (taurus, scorpio, leo, aquarius). Strong on aquarius energy.

Starting off, what you guys don’t see is how much of a big ball of sunshine you are. You radiate warmth and happiness. You don’t realize how you change the atmosphere of a room. I see a situation where a room of people who are really awkward around each other, looking at their phones, and avoiding eye contact. But once you step into the room, I see people sigh of relief because they know you’ll bring this optimistic energy into this situation. You can literally change people’s mood because of your presence. You make people feel energized and just overall just happy. LMAOO I can see you smiling at someone and just them getting hit with this slap of sunshine, then they feel energized the whole day. You just make people smile. 

You might be going through a transition right now, it can be as big as moving houses or something as small as how you dress yourself. I feel like you might not see this transition as a big deal but to other people it’s quite admirable. You are going through this transition with a lot of open-mindness and people are watching you like how can this person go through a transition like this, I don’t think I could ever do that. Like you’re not afraid of leaving behind something familiar such as your old favourite clothes. You’re so open to trying unfamilar things or just being in unfamilar situations. You don’t let anything hold you back. This is really seen in you, because of these transitions you’ve grown into someone so evolved. People really just watch you in awe while you go through these transitions.

Lastly, you don’t realize how patient you are. You’re not afraid to put everything on hold and just wait for the next step. Like you’re so self-aware, you know when you have behavioural patterns that don’t serve you and you actually stop and reflect. You actually do something to change these patterns and in my opinion that is so admirable. Also, I feel like people admire how you have a different perspective to things. LMAO I see like people always bothering you with questions like how you feel on this situation. Since your perspective is so eye-opening people might be crowding you for advice. You know when to put things on hold before they get out of hand. 

Some advice for you Pile 1 is that to stop forcing yourself to act happy all the time. It’s normal to experience sadness and it’s normal to not feel like you have to smile all the time. Stop thinking you’ll burden people with your emotions. There are people who care for you deeply, they won’t mind if you’re not smiley all the time. People love you for the way you are, don’t feel the need to act happy when you’re not.

Pile 2:

Hello my Pile 2′s!! Starting off I see some strong water energy (cancer, scorpio, pisces) and cardinal energy (aries, cancer, libra, capricorn). Really strong on libra and scorpio energy.

First off, you guys are so joyful and happy. You guys appreciate all the good things in life. I feel like towards other people you feel like home to them. You have such familiar energy. You’re just so supported and secure. LMAOO you radiate such big wifey/husband material. I feel like people really think that you’d be such an amazing partner to just settle down and start a life with. Also, I see that you’d really know how to throw an amazing party. I feel like if you threw a party people would be talking about it even months after it. You know how to have fun and just celebrate your efforts. I think you really know how to live in the moment and just let loose. You’re literally the whole package, you know how to let loose but at the same time you’re so supported and secure. Like what?!!? I feel like people would always  think to invite you to events because you bring such fun energy anywhere you go.

You guys are so emotionally mature and compassionate, it’s admirable. I feel like if life threw an emotional bomb at you. Instead of panicking, you guys would use your emotional maturity to take control of this situation. Even if you don’t realize it but you guys have such wise advice towards emotional things such as relationships and feelings. LMAOOO I see people asking you for relationship advice even if you haven’t been in a relationship yet because you radiate such maturity. You’re such an understanding person it’s crazy. People admire how you can be so compassionate towards people. I’m seeing people watching you, so they can understand how you can be like that. You’re words have a great impact on people, even if you don’t feel like a leader, people really view you as one. It’s like O majestic Pile 2, please offer you’re advice on this situation. LMAOAO

Lastly, you’re such a good friend. Like if someone lost you as a friend they would regret it so much because of how amazing you are. You’re like the ride or die type of friend. You’re so supportive towards you’re friends. Like you’re support really gives people motivation to do what they’re doing. You know how to have a good time like I see people smiling at your every word because of how funny you are. You’re again the whole package, you are always there for your friends, you know how to have a good laugh. Time really goes fast when people hang out with you. Even if you’re an introvert, you really do know how to socialize. People feel like you’d be the perfect person to collaborate with for projects because of how you are.

Some advice for you, is to be careful who you give out your energy to. There are some people who will use your compassionate heart for their advantage. So again please be careful to who you give your energy to.

Pile 3:

Hello Pile 3′s!! Starting off I see some earth energy (taurus, virgo, capricorn) and fire energy (aries, leo, sagittarius). Strong on the taurus, capricorn, aries energy.

First off, you guys have a really firm beliefs. You guys really stand up for what you believe in. You guys might be really passionte towards social injustices and you always spread awareness about it. It’s like you bring a light towards things that have been repeatedly ignored and bring justice towards it. You guys are really relatable and people admire the way you think. I see a scenario of people coming towards you to learn about your beliefs because of much you stand your ground on them. But the suprising thing about you is even if you have a firm belief in things you’re not afraid to learn about others beliefs. You’re curious on the ways of other people ways of thinking, it’s really respectable. 

You’re an incredibly nurturing person. You make others feel loved around you because of how you treat them. You’re love language might be acts of service and physical touch. You show love by doing things for others such as giving food or giving warm hugs. You’re like a mother to others. Not only just a mother but an incredibly hardworking one. You have such a good balance between home/friends and work. It’s super admirable. I can see people watching how you work and think how much they strive to be like you. You spread so much love and support towards everyone, you warm people’s heart. When people are around you they feel secure. They can just let loose and nothing bad will happen to them. You’re so compassionate, down-to-earth, and calm that people want to be near you because they love feeling this nurturing energy.

Lastly, you’re someone who can really plan ahead. Like you’re such an open-minded person towards growth and new possibilities. You explore every option you get and you decide which one you think is best. You’re not afraid to get out of your comfort zone and be in new experiences. You don’t doubt your self-knowledge and you charge in your path with so much courage. You always know your goals and you know how to fulfill them. It’s so admirable to other people because you know how to reach you’re goals and they wonder how they can do it too.

Some advice is to not be affected by people who shoot down your beliefs. You’re beliefs are your own, don’t let negative people ruin it just because they say some negative things.

Well that concludes this pick-a-card reading!! I hope it resonated and also I hope you enjoyed it. All of you are such wonderful people and I hope after reading this you know it too.

[nugnthopkns]

if everything could ever feel this real forever

word count: 4.3k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, allusion to sexual content (nothing explicit but minors please be aware!)

recommended listening: everlong | foo fighters

a/n: broke down and wrote for ratty matty. alternalty titled four times matthew thinks you’re the one and one time he knows (4+1′s are fun to write, pls don’t fight me). also pls ignore the fact i don’t know how airports work, i’ve only ever flown domestically lmao

Matthew feels different when you’re around. 

You don’t turn him into a completely different person. He’s still himself – an absolute pest at times – but more genuine. With you he can feel everything deeply, say whatever’s on his mind without the fear of being judged. It’s the best kind of different, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. His teammates constantly ask him when he’s going to lock you down; put a ring on your finger and change your last name, but he needs to be sure before he makes such a big commitment. 

one

It’s the beginning of July, and you’re sweating buckets in the back of an Uber. The driver has the air cranked, but nothing seems to alleviate the heat. You know it will be worse in St. Louis so you do your best not to complain, but it’s hard. Taking two weeks off to visit your boyfriend in his hometown sounded like a great idea, but reading the weather forecast has you re-evaluating the trip. 

Your phone lights up in your lap, and you eagerly unlock it. It’s a text from Matthew. Have a safe flight. Text me when you land. Tayrn will be there to pick you up – Brady and I’s on-ice got extended. I’ll see you when I get home. Love you. 

Though you wish he could be the first person you see when you touch down, you understand that his job comes first. Besides, your re-unification will be more private this way. I get to see the best Tkachuk first, fuck yeah you reply, before following it up with Love you too Matty. See you soon. 

Soon after sending the text you arrive at the entrance of Calgary International Airport. With a polite thank you to your driver, you grab your suitcase and head inside. The working air conditioning answers your silent prayers and you feel your body slowly return to a normal temperature. Check in is fast, and before you know it you’re breezing through security. A slightly nervous traveller, you’re at the gate earlier than you need to be. The plane doesn’t take off for another two hours. You don’t mind the wait, listening to a couple of podcast episodes and grabbing a snack at the lounge before boarding. 

The five hour flight passes in the blink of an eye. St. Louis is busier than Calgary, and it takes you longer than you thought it would to get through customs. Once passed immigration and at the baggage carousel you let Matthew know you’re safely inside the city limits. You grab your obnoxious suitcase – a bright red thing with a giant Flames logo that Matthew thought would be funny to give you – and set out to find Tayrn. She’s easy to spot, waving a giant poster with your name on it. Abandoning nearly all airport etiquette, you rush through the crowd to see her. Over the years she’s become a little sister and close friend, and you really wish you could see her more frequently. 

“Y/N!” Taryn squeals as you wrap your arms around her. The pair of you embrace for another moment or two before making your way to her car. Neither of you can stop talking, so excited to be in each other’s presence.

“It’s so nice to be back,” you sigh. “I really do like St. Louis.” 

Tayrn giggles. “You’re just excited to see Matthew.” 

Though she isn’t wrong, you swat her bicep in faux annoyance. “What? Can a girl not enjoy a nice Midwestern city?” You push your sunglasses up onto the bridge of your nose before continuing. “Besides, I only came here to see you. I see enough of Matt at home.”

She rolls her eyes but extends her arm so you can fist bump her. With a quick look to make sure the way is clear, Taryn exits the parking spot and heads in the direction of your temporary home. The open sunroof allows the wind to whip through your hair and you struggle to tame it enough to put it in a ponytail. One Direction blasts from the stereo, and you join Taryn in screaming the lyrics until your lungs hurt. Being on vacation, even if it’s only to St. Louis, is so freeing. You don’t have to deal with work deadlines or friendship drama. All that matters is spending time with Matthew. 

When you pull into the Tkachuk’s driveway it’s empty. It’s Thursday afternoon; Chantal’s at work, Keith is golfing with friends, and the boys are at the rink. You take a few minutes to unpack, filling Matthew’s drawers with your clothes, before joining Taryn by the pool. St. Louis is just as hot as the city you left, and the travel has left you feeling below average. A quick swim is sure to be the perfect remedy. 

The water is the right kind of cool, and alleviates any stress you were possibly feeling. You’re properly in vacation mode now, lounging on pool floaties and gossiping with Taryn. An hour later when Matthew returns home you’re in basically the same position. Stepping out into the yard he sees you urging Taryn to turn around so you can place sunscreen onto the one spot she missed, laughing all the while at some ridiculous celebrity rumor she’s telling you. Seeing you get along so easy with his sister, and the rest of his family, makes his heart swell.

In the couple of months you’ve been separated, Matthew’s thought a lot about his future. Specifically about his future with you. When he closes his eyes he can see it clearly: the two of you married with children and a dog, living in a house in the mountains and loving life. It’s idyllic, and even though he knows you’d say yes if he asked you, Matthew still can’t bring himself to do it. There’s something in the back of his brain telling him to wait until he knows with absolute certainty that you’re it for him.

Not wanting to be separated from you for a minute more, he snaps out of his daze and scurries over. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and pressing a kiss to the base of neck, he relishes in how you mould to him immediately, not even questioning who it was. 

“Welcome back baby,” Matthew mumbles into your skin. 

With a chuckle you wriggle slightly in his grasp, allowing yourself to face him. You press a kiss to his lips and it feels like heaven. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, you suppose, because you could stand here kissing Matthew your the rest of your life and be happy. 

“Hi Matty,” you giggle against his lips, parting from him only to rest your forehead on his and twist a curl around your finger.

From somewhere inside the house you hear Brady yell,  “Jesus Christ, you two, get a room.”

Without taking his eyes off you, Matthew replies, “Fuck off Brady!”

two

The energy inside the Saddledome is electric. It’s the Flames’ first home game in nearly a week, doing an east coast road trip and sweeping every team they faced. Six games later the team is on a nine game winning streaking and are hoping to keep it going. You know how much it matters in this moment – the playoffs are fast approaching and all points they can tally up are needed. 

You had decided months ago to buy rinkside tickets for this game, planning to surprise Matthew. He loves when you sit in the regular crowd, cheering and spilling your beer like any old fan. It’s humbling for the both of you, and honestly you enjoy it. Though you love those in the Better Halves box, you were a hockey fan before dating Matthew and sometimes like to enjoy games by yourself. Plus, your friend was supposed to be in town and join you at the game, and you figured she’d like to experience how insane the area is firsthand.

So you do your best to quickly shimmy around those blocking your seat, beverage in hand. It was all you could do to get to the rink on time, sitting in the dense downtown traffic for nearly three quarters of an hour after rushing out of work. You wanted to make it before warmups started to make sure Matt knows you’re there supporting him. No one really bats an eye at you, which you’re thankful for. In no way are you notorious, but it wouldn’t take a die-hard fan long to recognize you. Sitting down and letting a soft sigh escape your lips, you carefully place your jacket over the seat beside you. At the last minute your friend had to cancel her trip to Calgary, leaving you solo. With a quick look at the clock you see that warm up will start in just under a minute. The players begin to step onto the ice as you sip your beer. Matthew is yet to notice you but you don’t take offence. He’s in the zone and most likely won’t realize you’re sitting right in front of him until halfway through the third period.

“Look daddy, it’s Matthew Tkachuk!” you hear a young boy shriek in excitement. “He’s so fast, I want to play just like him.”

You turn to look and see two rows above you there’s a father and son, who looks around eight. He’s wearing a jersey identical to yours, and from the sounds of his excited chattering it’s his first game. Seeing the young boy so happy to be here, to see your boyfriend, has your heart swelling. You want to make this a game he’ll never forget.

“Hi,” you smile at the father. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I know Matthew quite well. Would you like me to get his attention so your son could meet him?”

A shocked expression makes its way onto the dad’s face, but he doesn’t react negatively. “You’d do that?” he asks. “Riley loves Matthew. Wants to be just like him.” When you nod, he lets you approach the boy. 

“Hey there Riley, I’m Y/N,” you say, smiling and extending a hand to him. “I’m a special friend of Matthew’s. Would you like to meet him?”

The boy looks at his father tentatively, and only once he nods encouragingly does Riley respond to your question. “Yes please.”

“Why don’t you come down here with me and we’ll get his attention?”

With a little help from you, Riley climbs over the seats and plops unceremoniously beside you. You help him straighten out his jersey before beginning a conversation. He tells you he plays in a local youth league and wants to make it to the NHL one day. When prompted, you explain to him that you work a boring office job that you love even though it makes you angry sometimes. It’s all very formal, but after cracking a few jokes you get him to loosen up.

Matthew, still not having noticed you, begins to skate along the boards in your direction. “Watch this,” you whisper-yell to your newfound friend, “I bet he’ll jump super high.”

As soon as Matthew passes your spot you bang on the glass and scream his name. Sure enough, his skates lift a good three inches of the ice and he shrieks. Teammates around him laugh and the look on his face is priceless when he discovers you’re the culprit. 

“Babe!” 

You smile. “Matty, this is my new friend Riley. He wears number nineteen just like you!” A glance at the boy lets you know he’s starstruck, and your eyes lock with Matthew’s. 

He leans down and rests his hands on his knees, at eye level with the child. “Hi Riley,” he begins. “I’m Matt. I like your jersey.” 

After that, Riley’s a tap that won’t turn off. He details every bit of his day to Matt, and even though their voices are muffled a bit from the glass they get on like two peas in a pod. Matthew is great with children and doesn’t shy away from having legitimate conversations with them. He talks to them like they’re people, which is something you admire about him. The warmup time runs out, but before he heads back to the dressing room Matthew hoists his stick over the glass, giving it to Riley. The younger boy beams and waves goodbye. You blow Matthew a kiss, which he gladly returns, and turn your attention away from him as his figure retreats. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”The question makes you laugh.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask, to which Riley just shrugs. 

“He called you ‘babe’, and my mommy calls my dad that. That means you’re in love,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

Matthew cannot pay attention in the locker room for the life of him. He’s trying really hard to listen to everyone’s hype speeches, but his mind keeps wandering back to the interaction you shared during warm up. You looked so happy watching him interact with the boy you found god knows where within the arena. It’s then he realizes he wants to watch you act like that for the rest of his life. He wants to see you bring excited children to meet him because you have the power to make their nights. His suspicion is confirmed when he steps onto the ice and looks in your direction, finding you and Riley pressed up against the glass cheering loudly.

three

The Giordano’s are hosting an end-of-season barbeque before everyone scatters into the wind, and you’re going to be late. No matter how much you reminded Matthew of what time you had to leave he still started getting ready as you were finishing up. This typically wouldn’t be a big deal, but he has recently started taking care of his curls, and the routine eats up a lot more time than he anticipates. 

“Matty, are you almost ready? There’s going to be no parking!”

His footsteps echo off the hardwood floor as he comes towards you. “That’s what you’re worrying about, baby? Parking?” Matthew laughs, pulling you into his side and kissing the crown of your head. 

“Yeah Matt, I am. You know I have parking anxiety.”

“I’ll drive then,” he says sweetly. “Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve driven us. Have some fun tonight.”

The short drive across town is full of laughter. Neither of you are great singers, but it doesn’t stop you from belting out lyrics at the top of your lungs. At some point Matthew breaks out a rather terrible impression of Axl Rose and you just have to post it to your instagram story. Captioning with a simple microphone emoji, you slip your phone back into your sweater pocket. Though most certainly warm enough to spend the entire evening outside, Calgary currently has a bit of a proclivity for wind, and you’d rather be prepared. Outside of Mark and Lauren’s house Matthew finds a spot and parallel parks with ease.

“Shut up,” you mumble, poking your tongue out at him. 

Matthew ruffles your hair in retaliation before jumping out of the vehicle, booking it around to the other side so he can open your door. He isn’t slick about hiding his intentions, grabbing a handful off your ass before leaning down to kiss you. Though you’d much rather stand in the cul-de-sac and make out with your boyfriend, you both have appearances to keep up. You get him to stop being a pest kong enough that you can enter the party and pass him off to his teammates. 

You congregate with some of the other girls in the corner of the yard, and enjoy a drink while the sun sets. It’s fun to gossip with them, to catch up one final time before most of them leave. You’ll be staying in Calgary, job tying you down for the foreseeable future. The only thing that’s better than spending time with your friends is glancing at Matthew from across the space. 

He’s enjoying himself, glass of water in hand. When he offered to be the designated driver he was serious, and he took the shit the boys were giving him in stride. Though you’ve only had one gin and tonic and can’t feel the effects of the alcohol, you’re glad he’s staying true to his word. The heightened water intake makes his skin glow, and you’re having a hard time staying focussed on the story Lauren is telling. He catches you staring and shoots you a dazzling smile. Tired of keeping your distance, you excuse yourself from the conversation and saunter over to your boyfriend. 

“Hey Y/N,” Noah says breezily, raising his glass to you in mock salute. You wrap your arms tightly around Matthew’s waist.

“Hanifin,” you smile. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I need to pull Matt away for a quick second.”

No one in the group is the least bit surprised. The two of you have a reputation for being young and in love, sneaking off often and doing everything that entails. Once the two of you are alone you rest a hand on his chest, dangerously close to the button of his shirt. You then move kissing along the underside of his jaw, pressing your body closer to his to ensure he gets the point. 

“Needy baby?” Matthew tries to smirk, but his voice wavers when you reach the junction of his jawbone and earlobe. 

Declining to speak, you continue your actions until he’s just as desperate to get home as you. Though you try to be sneaky as you exit through the back gate, you won’t be surprised if you wake up to a few crude text messages. You’re too far gone to care, solely focussed on showing your boyfriend how much you love him. 

The entire ride home Matthew can barely focus on the road. Not because you’re doing anything particularly risqué, a few too many close calls have put you both off of initiating things in the car, but because he doesn’t ever want to stop sneaking away from events with you. It’s exhilarating in more ways than one, and he hopes the feeling never goes away. Being with you, his best friend, is something he wouldn’t trade for the entire world. So what if he gets chirped by the boys for having precariously placed marks on his back.

four

September brings a chill to Calgary, but you couldn’t feel warmer. Matthew is due home this afternoon after nearly four months of being away. Of course you visited him in St. Louis, and he even flew back to the city once, but the two of you were mostly separated. Your shared apartment felt cold and lonely without him to annoy you, so you had spent as much time away from it as possible. No longer do you have to fall asleep with Matt’s side of the bed stone cold. 

Though you know he likely won’t care, you’re nervous about the new decor. In an effort to make yourself feel better in Matthew’s absence, you completed some home renovations. Most are superficial, like a new sectional and an ungraded home speaker system, but you had redone the entire kitchen after scrolling through pinterest. The cabinets are a bright yellow, and the walls are a warm cream. Subway tile has also replaced the previous backsplash. You’re quite proud of the way it looks – doing pretty much all of it yourself and only calling your dad when you really needed help. 

You spend much of the morning not doing anything productive, pacing the hallway back and forth. It’s nerve wracking and exciting to have Matthew home. Things will go much smoother with his presence even if he can sometimes be the most annoying person on the planet. You force yourself to eat a small meal before continuing to wear holes into your floor. He’ll arrive in a matter of minutes, and you’re practically vibrating with how much your legs are shaking. 

A key twists in the lock, as though it’s a Pavlovian response, you bound towards the front door. Not even letting him step over the threshold you wrap yourself around him as tightly as possible. Matthew giggles sweetly, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. Tears flow freely down your cheeks and soak through his shirt. In a very ungraceful waddle Matthew carries the both of you inside your home and shuts the door lightly. 

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Matt asks, obviously concerned because this is more emotional than any homecoming you’ve ever had. 

Through hiccupping sobs, you stutter out, “I painted the kitchen cabinets yellow and you’re going to hate them. And then you’ll want to break up with me but I won’t be able to take them with me.”

“Woah woah woah, slow down baby,” he soothes, rubbing circles on your back. “Why am I going to hate it?”

When you can’t come up with a justifiable answer, he knows your anxiety just got the better of you. Repositioning you slightly so you’re tucked into his side, Matthew walks through the apartment to see the kitchen for himself. He’s blown away by its beauty, and he can see just how much work you put into it. The room is so much brighter and inviting – he can’t imagine having any other kitchen now. 

Once you ramble off an apology for being so dramatic that he won’t accept, the two of you settle into the couch and start a reality television marathon. It’s a tradition that both of you take very seriously, and though he’d never admit it to anyone but you, Matthew looks forward to watching the outlandish dramas. The night is quiet, with you getting through quite a few seasons of Desperate Housewives, and at some point you fall asleep on Matthew’s chest. He knows he should gently move you off of him, start to unpack his bags, but he can’t tear himself away.

He can’t help but stare as you snore softly. There’s nothing Matthew would like more than to spend the rest of his life relaxing after coming home to you. If he’s being completely honest, St. Louis doesn’t feel like home as much anymore, and he finds himself counting down the days until he can return to Calgary. Matt supposes you’re the defining factor, and even Antarctica would feel like home to him if you were there. He never wants to lose that feeling. 

+ one 

There’s ten seconds left on the clock. Ten seconds until the Calgary Flames will become Stanley Cup champions. You’re holding your breath – you know a lot could happen in such a short amount of time. The lead isn’t as wide as you’d like it to be, only one, and you squeeze Taryn’s hand tightly. Everyone in the friends and family box is just as amped up as you. If the choice had been yours, you’d be sitting in the stands of the Saddledome, but in event the Flames win you need to be with everyone else if you want to join the team on the ice. 

Matthew carries the puck up the ice, and you audibly gasp. At the last second, a Bruins defenseman is blocking his view of the net. Not letting the scoring opportunity go for his team, he snaps a pass backwards to Elias Lindholm. A nano-second later the puck is in the back of the net. You possibly scream the loudest of anyone in the box, jumping into Brady’s arms excitedly. 

“Holy shit, they’re going to do it,” you whisper, and Brady nods enthusiastically. The clock now only has two seconds, and there is virtually no way the Bruins can make a comeback. 

You untangle yourself from your boyfriend’s brother and approach his parents. “How exciting is this!” Chantal gushes. 

“So fucking exciting,” you say honestly. “Listen, I want to talk to you about something.”

The Bruins’ head coach is halfway through his timeout, so you have to talk fast. You explain that you want to hang back while the family celebrates with their son and brother. Keith and Chantal try to argue, but you insist. You want them to be the first people to greet him as a Stanley Cup champion. 

A horn signals the return to play, and you return your attention to the ice pad below you. Everything seems to move in slow motion; all you remember is the final whistle being blown and getting crushed in a group hug by everyone else in the room. Your voice goes hoarse from screaming, and tears stream freely down your face. 

The party continues for a short time in the box, but then you’re being led through the arena and out onto the ice. Nodding in the direction of Matthew, you urge the Tkachuks to greet him. You congratulate other members of the team, snapping candid pictures of everyone to share in the group chat later. So many families will treasure the photos that you can’t bring yourself to stop, trying your hardest to grab everyone. 

Once enough time has passed for Matthew to properly be congratulated by his family, you make your way towards him. Wasting no time, he skates over and lifts you off your feet. Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, and if you weren’t so proud you’d have reservations about sticking your tongue down Matthew’s throat in a packed arena. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper against his lips. “My champion.”

Matthew blushes profusely at your words, and you can tell he likes them. “Couldn’t have done it without you supporting me,” he responds, leaning into your touch as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

While you celebrate with the rest of the team, holding babies and snapping pictures, Matthew realizes he can’t live without you. No one else will fit into his life as perfectly as you. There’s no one he wants besides you. Matthew makes a mental note to go through your jewelry box in the morning to get your ring size. His mom always said he’d know when someone was ‘the one’, and now he understands what she meant.  

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

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[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Kokichi Ouma x Female Reader - Love-Hate Relationship

Thank you to my patron/client! Kokichi is always fun to write

Summary: Kokichi starts to fall for the only person in the killing game who likes him. His best friend is always on his side and has true feelings for him both platonically and romantically, but will he ruin everything with his harsh words and lies?

Friends to Enemies back to Friends to Lovers LMAO - ANGST and FLUFF

Warnings: Vulgar Language, otherwise SFW - Admin Myah

Word Count: 5.1K words 

When it all began, people didn’t like Kokichi. (Y/N) found this little fact out quite quickly. It was quite obvious. He was loud, and obnoxious, and stubborn, and whiny, and a great many other negative adjectives one would use to describe, say… an elementary school student.

 But! … he was also a great many other amazingly fantastical things, such as cunning, intelligent, hilarious, perceptive, adorable. These were the things (Y/N) saw in him, these and a lot more endearing qualities, these things the others seemingly refused to see in him. Even the more intelligent and reasonable of her peers, such as the intuitive detective Shuichi Saihara or the studied anthropologist Korekiyo Shinguuji could admit Kokichi was intelligent, but not much else. (Y/N) didn’t understand it. She truly didn’t think Kokichi was all that awful. Why weren’t they seeing what she saw? From the moment they all arose, groggy and confused in that eerie gymnasium together she knew he would be something special, someone to watch. She had a gift for reading people like that: their souls, their intentions, their true talents.

 The two of them, in time, had even started to become friends where he had none, and she essentially became his only link to the rest of the students. It would often go something like this: 

 Kokichi would reveal something critical, something hidden or potentially deadly that they all must know.

Kokichi, being the stubborn ass that he was, would lie about the details, or the information altogether, switching facts around and embellishing the story with fictional bits and bites.

The other Ultimates would ignore him, call him a liar, engage in some petty squabble.

(Y/N) would vouch for the little lord of lying, and the group would reluctantly scrounge up enough good faith to believe the pair.

 In times like those, (Y/N) would often chastise the tiny tyrant, forever asking him why he couldn’t just play nice and help the group out of the kindness of his heart?

 There was always some nonsensical, facetious, nonchalant response.

 And without fail, the more outspoken students would try to talk some sense into (Y/N), asking her why she put up with him, why she even tried to get to know him, why she liked him.

 But it was no use, she was drawn to him, and there was no stopping or changing it. (Y/N) was always one to latch onto the people who piqued her interest, who plucked her heartstrings, be it romantically or platonically. She found herself enraptured by his mind at first, then his looks, then the way he spoke, and more specifically... the way he spoke to her. 

 Yes, despite what the others thought, she found herself always defending him, and then, she found herself falling for him.

 And he would never in his life admit it, but he was starting to fall for her, too. 

 When the killing game first started, the others thought of him as a brat, just a nuisance. They ignored him and at worst, they told him off like the annoying kid on the playground. Back then, she would still hang out with him, ignoring his teasing jabs or even jabbing back. He found himself surprised with her comebacks and playful insults at times. 

 She was always around, and would never abandon him, a fact he most definitely took advantage of, for when the first killing happened, when Rantaro was taken from them and the killing game transformed from a hypothetical danger into a very, very real one, people started doubting and turning on each other. At that moment, he also was transformed in their mind. He was no longer a brat, he was becoming a villain and potential threat. People were choosing sides, forming cliques, trios, duos, going solo, and so on. 

 And she was always on his side.

 When it came time for their terrified little class of ultimates to enter the trial grounds for the very first time, her podium was directly across from his, as if by fate. Kokichi didn’t believe too much in fate… but he didn’t mind getting a perfect view of her all trial long. He found out quickly that he may come to regret the placement, however, as it also gave her a perfect view of him, and she was no fool like the rest of them. She would watch his expressions, catch the smallest twitch of his lip or raise of his brow. Much like Shuichi, she was one of the only ones who could study his words and actions and weed out the lies… at least most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to call him out on it, and she knew the tone of his voice better than anyone else there. She was making it terribly difficult for him to confuse others, extend the trial, stir up some fun… and he liked that about her. Someone who could keep up with him was certainly not boring… and extremely attractive.

 Even with so many people against him, dismissing both his lies and truths, verbally attacking him, she would hear him out, and by the end of it all, the innocent got out alive. The thrilling and bone-chilling trial ended with a correct verdict. Without their teamwork, even with Shuichi’s genius, it may not have been so.

 With the first trial’s conclusion, Kokichi’d made up his mind to stop simply admiring her and actually get to enjoy that not-boring personality to the fullest. That’s the most he’d give her: that she wasn’t boring, unlike the rest of them. Grabbing her hand, he whisked her away to uncover the newest research labs that Monokuma’d allowed them access to. They inspected them all top to bottom, together as a team. They eventually would do this to every unlocked location in the academy, making short work of the campus while harassing each other, badgering and bantering, hurling insults the entire time. She was the only one he couldn’t exhaust. Just when he began to think it might be a tad bit more romantic to pull some punches for her sake, he discovered he didn’t have to. She’d punch back, and just as hard.

 In fact, he liked her so much, that when his poor classmates were subjected to the horrendous Insect Meet-and-Greet event, she was personally invited by Ouma himself, and not hauled over Gonta’s gentlemanly shoulders and carried, or worse, knocked the fuck out only to wake up surrounded by bugs.

 “How charming,” she teased, rolling her eyes as he stood in the frame of her dorm room’s door.

 “Yeah, you should feel pretty special! I wasted precious energy coming down here to ask you to come!” He exhaled loudly, far too proud of himself.

 “Well, as much as I’d love to be covered in roaches and piss myself when beetles attempt to crawl into every orifice on my body, I can’t. Again, love to, truly, but-”

 “Awwww! But we hang out every night! And you’re lying! You’re never busy you dirty, rotten, lying loser! Who else hangs out with you beside me?! What else do you have to do if it doesn’t involve me? Your life’s a yawn unless I plan your daily itinerary!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a small stomp of one foot. “Gosh, I hate liars!” He pouted.

 “Pout all you want, I’m not going to your bug fest. I hate bugs.”

 “Wait ‘til Gonta hears about your very controversial opinion!” Kokichi gasped, feigning absolute shock.

 “You wouldn’t...” her eyes widened, knowing instantly that she’d fucked up. He didn’t reply, but simply smirked, an evil, plotting, crooked grin creeping across his visage. She sighed deeply, head hanging in defeat.

 “Be my date?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers temptingly. Her head shot up, an uncomfortable, flustered warmth running through her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. He caught this immediately, as he caught most changes in the air, and his face twisted into an equally awkward expression for a split second before his brow furrowed and he snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, shithead! You know what I meant! Let’s go or I’m having Tarzan put your ass to sleep!” He spat, and she simply giggled, grabbing his hand before being pulled off.

 “Your date huh? I can’t think of anything I’d love more than some worms in my shoes.”

 ♡

 That morning when they awoke, Ryoma was gone, stolen away in what they assumed was either the night or the early morning. Kokichi was usually very much unfazed, desensitized to most shock and awe in life, but this time… it was different. He was upset, and visibly so, stomping around the crime scene like a child, brooding.

 It wasn’t the loss of a Ryoma, nor the gore and tragedy of the scene that had him so agitated, it was her reaction to it. (Y/N) wore her heart on her sleeve, and she wasn’t afraid to cry in front of others, so it was no surprise that she was in tears now. She’d cried over both Rantaro and Kaede’s deaths, but that was different. Kaede was a girl, and he didn’t care about (Y/N) enough back when Rantaro was killed to be jealous of her tears, but now… he was practically green.

 (Y/N) had actually been pretty close with Ryoma. Like she did with most people, she dug past Ryoma’s appearance and the story he wanted everyone to know, and what she found was a pretty amazing guy. She wasn’t as close to him as she was to Kokichi, but still…

 These weren’t tears of horror from seeing a dead body, or of witnessing a young person’s life cut short. They were tears of mourning the loss of a close friend, and Kokichi was positively boiling.

 By the time he’d managed to cool himself down while effectively hiding his meltdown from the rest of them, (Y/N) had wandered off to start the investigation and avenge her friend with Shuichi. Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen. She was quickly swept away to start their own little search party. The two of them, the way it was supposed to be. Of course, he would never say all of these embarrassing thoughts aloud. He’d make up some stupid excuse for why she just had to come with him. But it wasn't personal, and he didn’t care about her.

 He didn’t

 He. Didn’t.

 Did he...?

 ♡

 When it came time for the second trial, Kokichi made sure to make fun of (Y/N), calling her a crybaby, mocking her “endless blubbering” and all the valuable time she wasted doing it. He tried desperately, now at war with his own heart and values, to convince himself she was nothing to him, that she was just another pea-brained opponent in this death game, that she was a source of entertainment at best, and nothing else.

 “Shut the fuck up, Miu, nobody wants to hear that gross shit! Cream your pants later!” (Y/N) spoke across the circle to the blonde exhibitionist with a scowl on her face. Miu, in response, shriveled and whined. Kokichi couldn’t help but crack a smile. That was one of the things he loved about (Y/N), how she put people in their place.

 What?! Shit, no! Not loved… I mean she was cool, but... not - his mind raced, trying to shake himself back to the place he wanted to be. Shit!

 The trial went on, and with every word she worsened the self-made conflict within him.

 “How could you say that Kaito?!” (Y/N) howled at the Ultimate Astronaut, who was taken aback by her anger. Kokichi, too, found himself taken aback. Kaito was the “good guy”, the macho action hero, the protagonist’s best friend. While many called Kaito names, dismissed his ridiculous ideas, and even told him he was plain stupid and wrong at times, no one ever truly challenged the trusted hero duo that was Shuichi and Kaito, and certainly not with such unbridled anger. “You must have no idea what it’s like to go through depression, to not see the point in living anymore! How dare you speak ill of Ryoma?! How dare you say he used to be your hero?!” She knew what it was like, those dark thoughts Ryoma must’ve been having for years.

 Kokichi watched her, like a spitfire, a firecracker. He forgot all about his decision to let her go, to stop interacting with her altogether after today, and couldn’t help being pulled in. They spent the rest of the trial working as they usually did: together, as a team. He spoke up more, and they teased each other, flirting harmlessly and carrying on.

 And the others were starting to notice…

 “Man, can’t you two save it for when you’re alone?! Damn! I can practically see you undressing each other with your eyes, bleh!” Miu gagged before letting out one of her infamous cackles. (Y/N)’s face ran hot, instinctively leaning back on her podium. Her bottom lip caught itself between her teeth, at a loss for words as she met Kokichi’s gaze.

 “Yeah right, as if! I’d love to be discussing with literally anyone else here but you guys all have the personality of dirty pond water…” Kokichi sighed defensively, looking at his nails as if Miu’s words meant nothing to him. 

 (Y/N) knew how he was, she knew harsh words and lies were his coping mechanism, but she couldn’t help the way her shoulders sunk.

 ♡

 Despite her hurting heart, when Kokichi - the shit-stirrer that he was - revealed Maki’s truth to the group after Kirumi’s execution, (Y/N) was the only one to throw herself between them, prying Maki’s hands from her best friend’s throat.

 “Fuck, now she’s out here tryna die for this asshole!” Miu crowed. “HA HA! They’re definitely fuckin’!” She held her stomach, practically in tears from her laughing fit.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” (Y/N) pushed past the crowd, tired of them, tired of the humiliation, tired of Kokichi, tired of all of it. She left the trial room, running all the way and not stopping until she was locked up in her room.

 After the public embarrassment and Kokichi’s heartless dismissal of their… complicated relationship, maybe….

Maybe now it was her turn to cut him off.

 ♡

Days passed and she refused to see him. She stayed locked up in her room at night and avoided him during the day, well... avoided him as best she could. Kokichi wasn’t one to be ignored if he didn’t want to be. He persisted, harassing and tracking her around, begging her to talk to him, to play, to prank others with him, to investigate the new research labs, but she simply pretended he wasn’t there. It hurt, it really hurt to shut him out, but to go on with him acting like she didn’t matter in public and then deciding she did in private hurt even worse. Her loyalty could only go so far. She wouldn’t allow him to mess with her heart any longer… or so she thought.

 ♡

Hours before the third trial was to commence, (Y/N) found herself outside of Korekiyo’s research lab when what looked like a walking corpse stumbled by. She cried out, running over to a dazed Kokichi, bumbling about light-headed and pale, with fresh blood running freely down his head.

 “Kokichi!” Her feelings be damned! She couldn’t just sit there and watch him suffer or worse. Who knew how much blood he’d already lost? Crazed with worry, she threw his arm over her shoulder, looking around frantically wondering why no one else had noticed him yet.

 The answer was simple: no one else cared. They probably had noticed and simply written him off. (Y/N) pouted, contemplating leaving him there… she was supposed to be mad at him.

 “Ohhhhh… gah! ...Damn you, Kokichi!” How did he keep doing this? How was he worming his evil little ass into her heart again and again?! She began dragging him down the stairs and toward the dorms. The investigation would have to wait.

“(Y-Y/N)...?” Kokichi mumbled in his ditzy state. “Hoo hoo! I thought we weren’t talkin’?!” He nearly tumbled from her arms, weak and wobbly.

 “Oh, shut up, asshole!” (Y/N) growled, nearing the dormitory area and pulling him into her room.

 ♡

 “Man, that sucked!” Kokichi sat leaned against the glass of the sliding shower door in the small personal offshoot bathroom attached to her small dorm room. A cold washcloth sat covering his forehead, wetting the messy strands of his long bangs.

 “Tell me again why you didn’t just call for help once you realized how badly you were bleeding?” (Y/N) made small talk, wringing out the soiled rag she’d initially used to clean him off. He took a swig of some icy bottled water she’d provided and glowered, his bottom lip out in contemplation.

 “ ‘Cause I didn’t think anyone would come…” he spoke flatly, exhausted with the loss of blood and shittiness of it all. She froze, turning to him.

 “I’m sorry…” she sighed, replacing the washcloth on his head with some gauze that she started to gently wrap around the rather deep wound.

 “You should be! Hmpf!” He crossed his arms and she pulled on the gauze sharply, tightly constricting the oozing sore. “Shit!”

 “Don’t start, dickhead. You’re lucky I’m choosing to forgive you!” She chided. He shot her a dirty look, and for moments they sat in silence.

 “... For a moment I thought you hated me… like the rest of them,” he finally spoke up, any amount of silence torturous to his child-like psyche. She felt her heart sink.

 “... I could never.” She smiled softly, fighting off a nagging frown that threatened to present itself. Before he could make this even more awkward, she stood, taking control of the situation. “Okay, I’ll be right back, you stay right here. I don’t want you passing out again.” She took off, closing the bathroom door and sneaking away into the main room.

 Shuffling through her closet and by extension her Monokuma-provided wardrobe, she peeled off first her shirt then her uniform’s skirt, both now completely ruined by dark patches of Kokichi’s blood, her reward for carrying his sorry ass all the way here. Now in only her underwear, she reached for a replacement uniform and wandered over to her bedside table for her deodorant and some facial wipes. As she wiped the grime and sweat from the crevices of her oily face, the bathroom door slid open with an impatient force behind it.

 “I’m boooooooored-”

 “Ahh!” She screeched, rushing to cover herself up before she could even process what was happening, but the only things nearby were her comforter and intricate uniform.

 “Oh, God! Why are you naked?!” Kokichi hollered, his face turning beet red. (Y/N) pulled the comforter up and around her body, her uniform falling from the bed.

 “I told you to wait there!” Her cheeks felt engulfed in flames, the skin all over her body hot and her feathers effectively ruffled.

 “You didn’t say why! You didn’t say you were doing a strip show in here!” He retorted, covering his eyes with one arm, more for her to save face than out of his own desire.

 “Get out! Just get out!” She screamed, tears pricking her eyes.

 “But-!”

 “Now!!” Full of a genre of rage he almost never felt, he conceded, stomping out of her room without another word.

 (Y/N) fell to her bed, screaming into her pillow like nobody’s business. She felt ashamed, mortified, infuriated. Why, for once, couldn’t he just listen?! Her body was never something she was confident in or proud of, and now, to have him, the guy she had feelings for see her like that, and not only practically naked, but caught off guard… it was as more than she could handle.

 ♡

 The trial room was relatively quiet that afternoon. The usual suspects were chatting, defending themselves, accusing others. Shuichi was having a pretty smooth trial - a blessing in his eyes - with Kokichi not giving him an easier time than usual. When he did speak, it was his usual lies, with an underlying irritated tone, but he never spoke a word to (Y/N), and (Y/N) hardly spoke at all. After some time, someone addressed the elephant in the room… err, other than the murders, that is…

 “Soooo, uh…” Kaito, courageous as always, spoke out, “(Y/N), you awake over there? We could use some help to, you know, find the culprit so we don’t all bite it?” He was only somewhat gentle with his words, having already made up with her after the last trial’s argument, but anxious over the current situation. “Shuichi and I can’t handle this on our own! You usually have a lot to say!”

 “I resent that comment, Kaito, as I believe I help plenty, but yes,” Kiibo rolled his metallic eyes to the sky, ever focused on the current goal, “you do usually have more to say, (Y/N). We could really use another opinion here.”

 “Something wrong with (Y/N)?” Gonta, always concerned for his friends’ feelings inquired, brows furrowed in concern.

 “Hah!” Miu spat. “Of course something’s wrong! Haven't you noticed that little prick over there ain’t feedin’ us his bullshit nearly as much as neither?!” She pointed at Kokichi before placing a haughty hand on her hip. “He probably slipped her his little prick, and it was so tiny she was turned off for good! Probably can’t even speak, she’s so disappointed! Hella awkward!” She roared. Everyone exchanged the familiar looks of disgust or scorn that came after one of Miu’s outbursts, and as (Y/N) opened her mouth to defend them both, she was cut off.

 “More like the other way around!” Kokichi hurled Miu’s statements right back in her face, his knuckles crunching down on his podium with a vice-like grip. “After I saw her naked earlier, I was the one leaving with a softie!” He growled, his frustrations, self-loathing, and need to be in control and defend himself all culminating in these toxically destructive words.

 A few audible gasps were heard in the room, a few laughs from Monokuma and his remaining offspring, and the more mature students such as Maki and Shuichi simply sighing in exhaustion, wondering why they kept getting off track with useless information. (Y/N) felt her knees almost buckle.

 No. Not this time! She heard her mind shout at her heart, and she slammed her hands down on her podium, all embarrassment melting into pure rage.

“YOU- GOD!” An encore slam down onto the flat metal, “You FUCKING asshole! That’s not what happened you goddamn fucking LIAR, and you know it!” Her voice was hoarse with the force of it.

 “Uh oh! Struck a ner-” Miu began to speak.

 “You shut the fuck up!” (Y/N) pointed to the busty instigator before directing her venomous ire back at Kokichi, who refused to look her in the eyes. “I did everything to help you after your dumb ass fell through the fucking floor, and this is how I’m repaid?! I do everything with you and for you, and this is how you treat me?! Why do you always sit here and lie to these people about us?! Fucking shithead fucking-” she was struggling for words, holding back tears. “You tell them the truth, that I had your blood all over me from patching you up because no one else likes your sorry ass! Everyone else would’ve left you passed out on the floor or worse dead from blood loss or killed by the culprit who seems to be on a fucking spree!” She gestured wildly, talking with her hands. “You walked in on me changing my bloody clothes! It was your fault! Just like it’s your fault that you have one fr-” her voice broke, and she looked to her feet. “No friends. Fuck you… Shuichi just finish the fucking trial we all know who the culprit is.” She looked down the rest of the trial, saying nothing, hearing nothing, just a ringing in her ears.

 “This is reeeeeeal fuckin’ awkward and I hate it here,” Miu cooed, rubbing her hands together.

 ♡

 As soon as the trial was over, Kokichi, feeling the weight of his best friend’s words, searched high and low for her. The campus was huge with many places to hide, but he knew her well, and he knew her favorite spots. He checked the AV room, library, casino, her research lab, and her room first, then everywhere else, asking anyone he came across about her whereabouts.

“Dude you messed up, even by your standards,” Kaito demeaned with a righteous fist in the air.

“I think it’s completely reasonable that she would not want to speak with you,” Kiibo sighed.

“Kokichi, you probably really hurt her. Just let her be, that’s the right thing to do,” Shuichi offered guidance even to the worst of his peers any time he could.

“Why are you speaking to me?” Maki walked away.

♡

At long last, finding himself in the basement after wallowing around the school for a while, he opened the door to the AV room for some space and privacy, seeing as it was rarely used since Rantaro’s death. He gasped.

 “(Y/N)!” She turned from her position reading on the little couch, startled, and immediately turned back upon seeing the owner of the voice. He closed the door behind him, shuffling over with his tail between his legs. Quickly, before she could notice, he forced a rather convincing peppy voice. “The heck?! I already checked here!” She knew that. She’d been there earlier, and left when she heard he was making the rounds only to return later, but she didn’t say as much now. “Soooo? Whatcha readin’?” He grinned, plopping down on the floor beside her seated position on the couch. She didn’t respond, didn’t change her expression, and merely kept reading. “C’mon!!! Reading’s boring!!! Well,” he tapped his finger on his lip pensively “not always! But your taste in books is! Let’s at least go find some good shit to read together!” She had not the mental or physical energy, the want nor the need to banter with him. As far as she was concerned, this… whatever it was, was over. 

 Kokichi sighed, taking the hint to stop talking but not the hint to leave her the fuck alone. She would not physically kick him out, he knew this, and it seemed she wouldn’t do it verbally either. It was safer not to be alone, she rationalized in her mind… well, only if the group knew who was paired up and when, but he would never hurt her… physically. And she would never hurt him. And so, Kokichi resolved to sit there, just sit there and stare: at the ceiling, at her, at his thumbs. After the first thirty minutes he began to make pretend snow angels on the ground with his arms and legs flopping together and apart. He lapped around the room a few times, looked through the DVD options, sat with her on the couch, moved closer, then further, then closer, back and forth trying to get some reaction. Usually he could at least annoy someone into paying attention to him. Even negative attention was still attention. She was never like this with him. This was bad… he could feel his selfish little heart ache.

 An hour passed, and then another. She’d picked up a sketch pad she’d stored in the couch cushions, doodled, changed books, and now was reading again. He’d begun running his fingers up and down her thigh, making explosion and car noises when he hit her knee. And finally, he spoke.

 “You know, you’re super brave to be down here alone, you know... before I got here I mean… or at all really. Place is spooky… haunted since Rantaro got murked. No one comes down here but you. Surprised you’re down here… but I guess you always are.” He could feel the stone wall she’d put up between them. “You know, it kinda sucks, that we lost Rantaro…”

 “...and Ryoma, and Tenko, and Kirumi, Angie, Kiyo, Kaede…” she spoke up, irritated by his flippance. “Don’t forget them like they don’t matter.” He twiddled his thumbs in response.

 “At least you didn’t die…” he tapped on the back of the book you were reading, making the pages shake before her eyes.

 “Like you’d care if I did,” she replied without hesitation.

 “I woooooould,” he pulled at her sleeve like a toddler aching to be picked up.

 “I’m ugly. I’m fat and hideous and a turn off and just disgusting, right? So who cares if I die?” She spoke like she was reciting a grocery list: monotone, uninterested.

 “Well… I can still care about ugly people…” he batted his eyelashes innocently. The look she shot him told him she was not in the mode for jokes. “B-but, you’re not ugly! You’re way hotter than Maki or Miu or any other hag here! I just said all that stuff to catch Miu off guard! It was all a lie!” He was getting nervous now, sitting upright beside her on the couch.

 “That is not an apology,” she rebuked.

 “Aww come on, forgive me!” He collapsed, resting face down on her stomach and stretching his body out on the cushions behind him. “You’re my best friend…” His words were muffled, but she could make them out still. “You’re more than that…” her ears perked up, and she began to hear sniveling. Slowly, a wetness began to seep through her shirt onto her abdomen.

 Was he…?

 She placed a single hand on the back of his black locks and ran her fingers through the messy mop. The other placed the book on the floor then joined the other. For a few peaceful moments they sat silently while she stroked his scalp and played with the waves.

 “I’m sorry…” an apology came through his sniffles, but he would not lift his head up, never in a million years would someone see him cry genuine tears.

 “I can’t hear you,” she lied, something she learned from him. A devious smirk he could not see crossed her lips.

 “Yes you can!” Muffled frustration vibrated her tummy.

 “Well since I can’t hear you anyway this conversation is ov-”

 His head shot upward, a snarl crossing his red, moist, puffy face. He pulled his knees up, leaning forward with all his weight

And pressed his lips deeply into hers.

[nostalgiabones]

The Story of Us // C.H

It feels like SO LONG since I last posted any writing! Here is the second instalment of the Song Series for my last follow milestone (which I announced and then just didn’t write for 2 months😳). I had a moment at 2am where everything fell into place with this fic and I was screaming about it to @calumrose lmao. It’s taken a long time but I’m so happy with how this has turned out and I LOVE the concept of this song so much. I’d love to know what you think!

Song: The Story of Us — Taylor Swift

Word count: 5.1k

Tapping your fingernails on the counter, your eyes search around the busy kitchen for a familiar face – one to ease the anxiety of the first party you’ve attended for longer than you can remember. The kitchen gives you more space to breathe than the garden you fought your way through to get to the house, greeting smiles and quick ‘hellos’ to friends you haven’t seen for a while. There’s one friend in particular you’re expecting to see, yet a part of you doesn’t want to.

“Hey, you made it!”

The voice of a close friend fills your ears over the pounding of the bass from the speaker in the lounge, pumping the whole house (and possibly, the whole street) with music. You can tell Ashton has already taken over the playlist, old classic rock songs being the common theme so far. The counter is already sticky with alcohol. It was one of these parties where you first met Calum – in his true drunk state, he had spilt a drink over your shoes, and spent the remainder of the night trying to make it up to you. He apologised any chance he got, no matter how much you reassured him it was okay and insisted on giving you his number so he could ‘apologise again when he was sober.’ He had done, too, and that’s where it began.

Most Friday nights you’d get a text from him asking you to tag along to whoever’s party was going on, telling you that they weren’t the same without you there. “I need you there as my wingman,” he’d insist, although he had no intention of going home with anyone else. His turn to host rolled around, and that’s when things had changed – the night had ended with you crashing on his spare bed. Everyone else had left and he didn’t see you go, and it wasn’t until Duke had his attention that he had found you – curled up on the bed in his spare room. He thought about waking you up, but decided that he couldn’t bring himself to do it once his gaze fell upon your sleeping face. All he did was remove your shoes, to make you more comfortable, and tuck you in so you didn’t get cold. He had murmured a “good night,” pushing your hair away from your face with a kiss to your forehead.

The next morning, he had found you in his kitchen; Duke keeping you company, curled up in your lap as you wait for Calum to wake up. Waking up in his spare bedroom had been a surprise, yet you didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable. You could’ve left straight away, just leaving a note, but you didn’t. You stayed for breakfast, testing Calum’s cooking skills, and both of you (silently) felt as though you wish it could happen more often.

After that, the texts weren’t just invitations to parties.

They were invitations to get coffee, to take Duke on a hike, to listen to a song he was working on. Any reason he could think of to see you, he would take it, yet he wouldn’t admit to himself why he wanted to see you so often. Your friends knew it; at every party you’d arrive together, dance together, his fingertips would linger on your hips, always touching you somehow. It looked so easy, fun, and free from the outside.

You’re the lucky ones.

Four words both you and Calum had heard time and time again from your friends. They’d see the smiles that grace both yours and his lips at parties when you were together, losing yourselves in the music and each other. Friends would ask where you both stood; what you are, or what you were. Some had called it friends with benefits, most thought you were dating, but whenever you were asked, all you could reply was “I don’t know.” It seemed as though your friends never believed you, but it was the truth — Calum doesn’t like labels.

Calum would take you on unofficial dates; never labelled as such, but something as casual as going to dinner didn’t quite feel the same when he refused to let you pay and you ended up in his bed. Most nights you’d just stay up talking, watching the evening bleed into night as the sun sets and the moon rises. You’d talk about anything from his eclectic taste in music to what the purpose of life is, yet somehow, you never talked about your relationship. Anything but yourselves. The first time he kissed you, it almost felt accidental; his face was just that bit too close to yours for you to not kiss him, his chapped lips brushing yours for a brief moment. His eyes had quickly assessed the expression on your face, wondering whether you were thinking the same thing of what just happened. He had waited a moment before asking “Is it okay if I kiss you again?” and of course… you said yes. You felt something, so did he, but the feelings never translated to words; you never found out what was going on inside his head. And that was the problem.

“I brought you a drink!” You’re snapped out of your thoughts by her voice as she hands you the red cup, filled with whatever had been thrown together in the ice bucket at the other side of the kitchen. You had watched her do the rounds around the room, catching up with everyone else hanging around, and had finally made her way to you. “You know Calum is here, right? Why are you over here all by yourself?”

You hope she didn’t ask him the same question. It’s clear your facial expression gives more away than you intended, and you’re met with a furrowed brow before she continues.

“Did something happen?” She questions, an inquisitive expression on her face as she glances over your shoulder. It’s in that moment you realise he’s there, at the other side of the room, and suddenly it feels like the walls are closing in. She knows Calum well too, but they really are just friends — she can tell something is off with him, too. You allow your eyes to glance to where he’s stood, talking to someone you recognise but whose name you can’t recall. Calum’s eyebrows are furrowed, he looks deep in thought although he’s definitely not paying attention to the conversation that he’s stuck in. “Never mind, don’t answer that. New question, what happened?”

You sigh, taking a sip of the drink she handed you before trying to think of an answer. What did happen? Things have become distant. As much as you enjoy being around Calum, sometimes the uncertainty is too much. He’s a closed book; very difficult to talk to about how he feels, and it leads to you overthinking way too much. Sometimes you just want to sit him down and tell him everything; how even though your relationship is nothing serious, sometimes you wish it could be. You try not to get attached in case he doesn’t think anything of you in the way you wish, sometimes. It’s difficult when he treats you better than any man has before.

“I just haven’t seen him for a while,” You tell her, and it’s not a lie. You haven’t seen him. It doesn’t add up though, not to any of your friends — the two of you would be the life of the party normally. It doesn’t feel the same when you’re at opposite ends of the room.

“Then why aren’t you over there catching up?” She asks, and you know you can’t hide it anymore. She can see it in your eyes. It’s rare that you’re not joined at the hip in any social situation; your friends didn’t know too much about you and Calum in private, yet you know she won’t be the only one to notice the distance between the two of you. They don’t know about the ‘dates’ or about the times where you’ve called him crying after a bad day. They don’t know about the kisses, how he holds you in the dark of the night, or how you know more about him than anyone you’ve ever met. They don’t know about you and Calum.

You pause for a minute before answering her.

“Nothing happened between us,” You sigh, your nails anxiously tapping against the plastic cup in your hand. “That’s the problem.”

You watch as Calum laughs at a joke a friend has made. It’s not his true laugh though – where his eyes crinkle and his nose twitches, where he looks as though his cheeks could burst from how hard he’s smiling. That’s a laugh reserved for you, when you tell him a silly childhood story at 3:00am. There are many parts of Calum which only you get to see. You notice his hair has grown out compared to when you saw him last. The blonde is hardly there now, just specs throughout the ends of the dark curls. Your heart thuds in your chest as you look at him – he’s right there, yet he feels a million miles away, like there’s a wall in the middle of the room preventing you from getting any closer. It’s even further to reach his heart.

Calum is a closed book, but the pages you have read, you remember.

You know his feelings on a lot of things. You know he loves his family more than anything in the world, that he eventually wants to grow old in Australia near the beach, and that his purpose in this lifetime is to make music for people to fall in love with. He cares deeply about those around him, he shows his love through affection, he calls Duke his soulmate. He loves to cook for those close to him and has a list of recipes in his phone of meals he wants to make for his mum. He once spent a whole night telling you how his sister is one of his biggest inspirations. Playing shows and meeting those who support him makes him feel alive. You know a lot about Calum... except for how he feels about you.

“You should talk to him,” She suggests, a gentle touch on your arm to get your attention. It sounds like such a simple thing to do – just talk to him! Just tell him how you feel!However, Calum is so guarded, that the thought of the feeling not being reciprocated looms over you too much to think about doing it. You wouldn’t even know where to begin, months’ worth of emotions and frustrations to work through. It would only work if Calum were willing to talk to. And you’re not sure he is. “You’re not going to have fun until you do, and neither will he. It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

You cross your arms and bite the inside of your lip – two signs that Calum would recognise as anxiety if he looked in your direction.

“Calum doesn’t know how to talk about us.” You retort, a defeated tone to your voice before you even think about talking to him. Although, you have to admit, it wouldn’t be fair to blame to Calum alone. How could a situation be so simple yet so complex at the same time? No-one had ever made you feel as free as he does; so comfortable with the space to be yourself no matter what. He never judged you. Night by night he broke your walls down; learning more each time about your family, about what lead to you to Los Angeles, about your deepest ambitions. Although whenever you went longer than usual without seeing each other, it made you want to be guarded again, unable to shake the anxiety that comes along with sharing your deepest secrets with someone. All of it in turn had led to weeks, nearly a month of no communicating, and you’d be lying if you said there’s nothing you want more than to fall asleep in his arms once more.

“You should try.” She tells you once more, and you know she’s right. “Trust me.”

She excuses herself to go catch up with someone else, and your eyes can’t help but land on Calum at the other side of the room. He looks more comfortable now, but you notice Luke to his right, and realise that’s probably why. There are so many people around, yet you’ve never felt so alone, like an alien in the group. Calum made you feel everything but alone, especially at a party, he’d never leave your side. You never had the chance to feel lonely. Yet in this moment, it’s all you can think about. You wonder if he feels as alone as you do.

Your fingertips fall to the corner of your jacket, nervously fumbling with the material, needing something to ground you whilst trying to think of something other than Calum. You don’t get very long to do so before your phone offers a distraction; a text lighting up the screen, the contact name of ‘Cal’ making your stomach drop.

Meet me upstairs in 5? Spare room at the back.

You can’t help but sigh at the words, your eyes locked on the screen; too scared to look up in case he’s watching your reaction. It feels so impersonal. Why didn’t he just come and talk to you?

Downing the rest of your drink, you head to grab another one, knowing you’ll need it if you’re going to talk to him. What does he want to talk about? What are you meant to say? The questions are a constant dialogue in your mind, occupying the space, leaving room for little else. Glancing around the room, you note that Calum is no longer there, and that he must’ve gone upstairs to wait for you. It feels like you’re floating as you head up the stairs. Not in a happy way, more due to nerves – the adrenaline and anxiety flooding your veins as your fingers grasp the handrail leading to the upper floor of the house. There’s three bedrooms that you can see; one to each side, and one straight ahead at the back of the house. The door is ajar, and you just know Calum is sat on the bed waiting for you.

Your knuckles gently tap the wooden door and you hear Calum clear his throat; your heart races, and when you push the door open, it’s hard to look at him. Having him there, right in front of you, is almost too much to process and it suddenly feels like there’s no air in the room.

Calum’s eyes follow you as you join him at the end of the bed, not too close to him, yet close enough that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. No words are said – you stare at your boots, clearing your throat and waiting for Calum to speak first. You’re both too stubborn.

“Why are you so nervous?” Calum breaks the silence – his voice is deeper than you remember. It’s quiet, yet loud enough that you can hear him over the sound of the music and people talking and singing downstairs. His hands rest on either side of him, fingertips pressed into the duvet as he turns to look at you. It makes his heart ache a little that you’re avoiding his gaze, and he knows you’re uncomfortable. “It’s just me.”

Just him.

“You know you make me nervous,” You retort, a sarcastic yet innocent twinge to your voice as you reply. You know he knows that. It’s something the two of you joked about from the beginning – saying it’s the reason you never spoke to him before the shoe incident. He’s a mysterious person, intriguing; a tough person to get through to, especially when you don’t know him. “Especially when we haven’t talked in a while.”

He nods, a smirk on his lips, but there’s nothing about the situation he finds funny. He’s missed you a lot, and now you’re in the same room together, with no choice but to talk – he realises how much distance there is between you both. Silence has never been so loud before. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to tell you how much he’s missed you. He’s not one to be openly expressive with his emotions, he usually does it through gestures or shows of affection – yet he hasn’t had the chance to show that side of him with you.

“What have you been up to?” He asks, trying to make you feel less uneasy around him before he asks anything more cutting. That was one thing you always admired about Calum – his warmth, his ability to put people at ease by holding conversation. He’s a social butterfly, he loves getting to meet people when he’s out. He has his quiet moments at home when he has time to think. He shifts uncomfortably on the bed as he murmurs a quieter, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

The last few words catch you off guard and now it’s your turn to look at him, his eyes cast towards the ground and his jaw clenched. His eyebrows are furrowed, and you know there’s a million thoughts swirling around his head. Is that Calum admitting some feelings towards you?

“I’ve just been working, really. I went home for a little while, like I told you about,” You reply, remembering back to the last night you spent with Calum, just after you booked your tickets home. Although what you don’t tell him is that most of the time, you couldn’t stop thinking about him being there with you. “How was Europe?”

You had plans to go home, Calum had the rest of his year planned out for him – he had been with the band in Europe and the UK for a little while, and you kept up with his travels on Instagram. Calum had been thinking about you too. He knows how badly you want to travel; that being one of the ambitions you had admitted to him, and he wants to fulfil it. With every cold hotel bed that he slept him, he wanted you to keep him warm. Exploring a city wasn’t quite the same on his own.

“It was different,” He answers, and you’re not sure what he means by that. You wait for him to expand on what ‘different’ entails, yet he doesn’t. Different means unsettled; it means that he didn’t get chance to say goodbye to you before he left, and it didn’t sit right with him. He saw you viewing his Instagram stories, he started to post them just to see if you’d keep watching. You did.

And the room is silent all over again. It is for several moments, until you speak up again.

“Why did you ask me to come up here?” You prod, wanting to cut the small talk. As nice as it is to catch up, there’s a weight on your chest – one that won’t be relieved until something gives with Calum. You don’t want to fight, but there’s things that need to be said. “I didn’t have you down as a ‘texting from the same room’ kinda guy. You could’ve just come and talked to me.”

Calum huffs a laugh, a hand lifting to run through the thick curls upon his head. A tell-tale sign of his own anxiety. He doesn’t say anything, though.

“Now who’s the nervous one?” You continue, raising your eyebrows, knowing you have the upper hand. “What, is the thought of talking about your feelings making you uncomfortable? What else is new?”

He sighs, sitting for a moment, thinking of what to respond. Now you’re more comfortable, he knows there’s no holding back. It’s not going to be an easy conversation.

“First of all, I couldn’t just come up and talk to you. There were too many eyes on us, my friends already noticed we weren’t talking. I know yours did too,” He tells you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. He has so many walls up and trying to break them down is exhausting.

“I miss you holding me as tightly as you’re holding your pride right now,” You murmur, picking at your nails, avoiding his gaze as you speak the words. Now Calum is the one caught off guard. “I want to know how you’re feeling, Calum. I need to know whether this is killing you as much as it’s killing me.”

For a moment Calum thinks he hears your voice catching in his throat and it goes straight to his heart like a dagger, his head snapping up to look at you. He never wanted any of this to happen – he didn’t mean to hurt you. The lack of communication between you both is astounding to him, now that he thinks about it; the lack of boundaries – the line between friendship and more somewhat blurred. The whole thing seems blurry now, and he’s not sure how to provide the clarity he knows you’re looking for.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admits, truly at a loss for words. There’s so much to say, yet so little. Where does he begin? He hears your sharp intake of breath and he knows you’re frustrated – barely getting more than one sentence out of him at a time.

“Calum, I’m so tired of having to pretend like I don’t care about whatever this is. Right now, it feels like we’re competing to see who cares less. I want to know how you feel about me, about us.” It’s like something is awoken in you. If this is the last conversation you have with him, you want to know it all; whether the nights of sleeping next to him meant as much to him as they did to you. “No more holding back.”

Calum clicks his tongue before he nods, inhaling through his nose, placing one hand on the bed so he can put his weight on it to look right at you. “Alright.”

“Tell me,” Your tone is slightly softer now that he’s agreed. As frustrating as it can be at times, you know it’s not an easy thing for Calum. You know he cares. He just needs to show it. “I’m listening.”

“You want to know what I think about when I look at you?” Calum starts, looking right at you – you’re drawn in by his stare. It’s a lot. Taking a deep breath, you prepare for whatever he’s going to say, and nod in a gesture for him to continue. “I think about the night of my party when I found you on the spare bed. How, for some reason, you were comfortable enough to fall asleep at my house, when we weren’t even that close then. How when I tucked you into bed, you just looked so peaceful. You worry too much when you’re awake.”

You felt free around Calum, yet you didn’t at the same time. You could be yourself, he wanted to know everything about you – yet without the labels of a relationship, you held back from showing too much. There were times Calum wanted to kiss you, and when you wanted to kiss him, but you didn’t. Friends don’t just do that. The more he got to know you, the more he wanted to know, but the more he felt like holding back. He realises a lot of things could be solved if you had just talked a little earlier.

“And then I remember the morning after, when I woke up and Duke wasn’t in my bed, so I knew something was different. How I found you sat in my kitchen with him – that you didn’t leave before I woke up. It just felt so normal, I couldn’t shake it off all day, after you left...” He continues, like he’s letting his mind get away with him. He’s barely said anything, yet it’s the most you’ve heard about how he feels about you. “I didn’t want you to leave. I didn’t realise that until you had gone.”

Calum notices the little things. There are countless moments in his mind that he wishes he could live all over again – a lot of the firsts with you. He wishes he would’ve appreciated them more in the moment.

“And then I think about the first time we kissed. I didn’t think it was going to happen then, I don’t think either of us meant for it to. We have a lot of firsts... the first time I saw you cry, after that fight with your parents, when you called me before anyone else. I like that you rely on me, sometimes, it says a lot about how you feel.” He explains, and it’s so much to take in. “I guess I looked for your feelings in your actions, rather than just asking you. Things would probably be different now if we had just communicated with each other.”

You nod, and know it’s not just Calum to blame. Your communication was just as lack lustre as his. Calum read into your body language and actions a lot – he’d notice when you’d hug him tighter just for a moment longer, or when you’d bring him his usual coffee order, after stopping off to get one for yourself. Calum notices the little things, and they mean a lot.

“What about you?” He asks, and you should’ve expected it. “Tell me how you feel.”

Every moment that passes feels like a lifetime; you’re both taking the time to think.

“I liked it better when you were on my side,” You murmur with a small smile, allowing yourself to think of when things were how they used to be. Nothing has really felt the same since. You decide it’s time to lay everything out, to say everything you’ve wanted him to know for the past few months – at least then, if anything, you don’t leave with any regrets. Calum nods at the words, knowing he’d rather go back to the good times too. “I miss sleeping in your bed. I don’t feel like I’ve talked to anyone in so long. I didn’t realise how much we shared with each other until I didn’t speak to you for a while. Now that we’re here talking… it kinda feels like I can breathe again.”

As wonderful as things could be with Calum, it wasn’t always easy. As soon as you left his house, you’d be thinking the time you spent together over and over, questioning the little things; whether he meant to rest his hand on your thigh whilst you watched a movie, or whether he knows exactly how you like your drinks. It consumed you sometimes, leaving your head spinning and heart aching. It hurt him too, sometimes, when he’d drive you home with Duke in the backseat and wait until he saw you make it safely inside. Duke would jump up at the window, as if to wonder where you had gone, and he’d murmur a “I know how you feel, buddy.”

You’re both caught up in your thoughts, and Calum doesn’t have time to say anything else before you set the record straight.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore, Cal. Not if you want it too. I’m either all in, or all out. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle where I don’t know where I stand. I can’t do it again.” Your voice cracks as you speak, and Calum almost breaks on the spot; he doesn’t want to be the cause of your tears. Not ever. He scoots across the bed a little and reaches out; warm, calloused fingers gently picking your own hand up and fitting it in his own. His fingers link with yours and he gently squeezes, trying to get you to look at him.

“Please don’t cry, love,” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He doesn’t know why you’re emotional, whether it’s because you’re still unsure of where he stands, the relief of talking everything through, or something else.

Commitment isn’t something that comes natural to Calum. He’s passionate about a lot of things; when he cares about something, he gives it his all, but his heart is guarded. It terrifies him to have to be vulnerable, but he knows that if he doesn’t let you in, he’ll regret it forever. In reality, he’s already let you in… He just has to admit to himself.

“I’m all in. You have my word, and my heart. No more going back and forth, okay? I want it all. You’ve got me.” He reassures you, his free hand resting on top of your joint ones, thumb stroking back and forth over the top of your palm. You nod and swallow the lump in your throat, relief coursing through your veins at the reassurance from his words. It feels like everything is lifted from your shoulders, like you can breathe once more.

“You have me, too. I want to be with you, I want you, but we have to learn how to talk to each other,” You tell him, knowing communication is going to be the crucial difference between before and now. It’s not going to work without. “I know it’s not easy, but we have to try.”

Calum moves closer and almost pulls you into his lap, one arm going around your shoulders to pull you close to him. You’re flooded with warmth and the familiar scent of a combination of his washing powder and his cologne, one that still lingers on your bedsheets months after he last slept there, one that you’ve missed. One that is just simply Calum. You bury your face against his neck and his free hand lands on your thigh, a comforting gesture; he just wants to be as close as possible.

His hand moves from your thigh and his fingertips gently take your chin, tilting your face so you’re looking right at him. His pointer finger traces your cheekbone, down your cheek, under your bottom lip as he breathes you in.

“No more holding back,” He murmurs, his chapped lips brushing yours, a feeling of relief crashing over the two of you and your mouths get acquainted once more. It’s been too long, Calum decides, as he pulls back for a moment and his lips are right back on yours again. It’s mere seconds before he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth and it’s a sensation you’ve missed; he tastes of alcohol as he kisses you and you commit the feeling to memory. The tips of your noses nudge together as the kiss goes on and you never want it to end; it’s the start of a new era, a new beginning to your relationship now that you can call it that. The kiss is urgent and desperate, and it says everything unspoken – there’s a long way to go, but it feels like a good start. “Can I take you home?”

“Please.”

Next chapter.

***

If you’ve made it this far — thank you so so much for reading! I’d love to know what you think, and if you have any requests for songs I could write about — please let me know! 🥰

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[1025cherrystreet]

order for me, please?

y/n is too anxious to order for herself at a restaurant, so harry does it for her.

disclaimer: did not proofread this, nor do i really like how i ended it. very much rushed, very much lost the plot i feel lmao. any feedback is appreciated!!! 

warnings: talks about anxiety quite a lot, other than that just fluff. kinda short soz <3

Harry rubs soft circles into your side while you're cuddled into him on the couch. The light coming in from the window casts a yellow glow into the room, little rainbow beams decorate random spots in your living room from the glass.

You've been a bit anxious today. The worst part of it is that you have no clue as to why you've been so anxious. Nothing particularly stressful has occurred since you woke up, but your heart hasn't stopped racing, your breathing has been quite shaky, and your palms are clammy. Some days are just harder than others, you know this, but it doesn't dismiss the fact that it's still difficult to even get through the day sometimes.

Since the moment you woke up in Harry's warm clutch this morning, you felt off. That uncomfortable feeling in your tummy and the constricting nails that seem lodged in your throat were a not-so-warm welcome when you opened your eyes.

Having anxiety and knowing how hard it is for you, you know how hard it can be for the people around you as well. You felt guilty. You felt guilty because today was one of Harry's days off from work and he doesn't get many of them, always so busy. You didn't want to ruin what was supposed to be a good, relaxing, fun day.

But, when Harry wished you a good morning love, and you had opened your mouth to speak with glossy eyes, only to have the words get caught in your throat, he knew today wasn't a good one.

However, because Harry is such an amazing person and boyfriend, he knows how to go about handling your anxiety. He knows you. He knows that you just need a cuddle and a slow day with tea and a good meal. He knows when you start to get really worked up, you listen to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac because it reminds you of a sweet childhood memory. He knows you don't want to do much talking, but rather more watching TV. He knows you like to distract yourself on your bad days...and he knows how to do so.

So, after spending all morning and into the afternoon having tea and breakfast and taking your meds (along with a short cry), you're now cuddling on the couch mindlessly watching a movie. It's quiet in the house, the only sound coming from the television (and maybe your heart beating if Harry got close enough), but Harry swears you could be able to hear his thoughts from a mile away.

He worries about you sometimes. As does everyone who loves someone. He's never loved someone as much as he loves you and it scares him sometimes. He's not scared of falling out of love or deciding you guys aren't the best for each other, no. He's scared of not being enough for you. He knows you tell him that he's the love of your life and that he will always be enough for you, but a little part of him is scared that he might not be able to take care of you. Now, he's not saying in any way, shape, or form that he's not capable of taking care of you, because he can! He's just scared he might mess up and make your anxiety worse. He hates seeing you so out of it.

You're always the sunlight in every room, always smiling and so loving. You care so deeply for everyone around you, he admires it. He admires you. He loves you, so he hates that your mind can be mean to you at times.

See, his troubles with anxiety are far different from yours. Gratefully, his anxiety is more rational (still troubling, just more rational!) ... which is the complete opposite to yours. Your disorder is so irrational and crazy that, more often than not, you get so frustrated with yourself. Your brain makes up problems to be there that aren't there. You worry about nothing and everything all at once, feeling like you never get a break from the mental toll it has on you.

So with that, Harry hates seeing you so anxious. He knows you're so vulnerable and fragile in this state that he doesn't want to make anything worse for you, he wishes every day that he could just take all the worry and bad thoughts from your head and put them on himself instead, as long as it meant that you'd be your happy self again.

But, he knows that's not possible. He also knows that's it's okay to not be okay all the time, so he packs his wishes back into his brain and cuddles you closer. Hoping you can feel his love reverberate off every surface of this house to you.

Oddly enough, you almost feel as if you can. In your simultaneously busy yet silent mind, you can make out his affection in every circle he draws onto your skin with his fingertips, in every warm cup of tea he makes, and every sickly sweet kiss he presses onto your lips, forehead, and cheek. You know he loves you and you hope with everything that he knows you love him just as much, if not more.

With that thought running through your head, you turn to place a kiss to his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly (moth?) tattoo through his shirt. A content hum sounds from his lips and he squeezes you tighter before kissing the top of your head.

"I love you," He whispers, as if not to disturb the comfortable silence created in this space.

"I love you more," You whisper back, the tea earlier melting the nails in your throat just a little.

***

"Does Carrburritos sound good, lovie?" Harry asks, waiting on the edge of y'all's bed for you to finish getting ready.

Carrburritos is your favorite restaurant ever. Of course, you know that's why Harry chose it and the thought of him doing something as simple as that melts your heart at how sweet and thoughtful he is.

"Yeah, thank you, bubs." You respond softly, still in the fragile state you were in earlier, albeit definitely feeling better. You make your way to the edge of the bed where Harry is, slotting your body between his legs and bringing your hands up to play with the little curls on his neck.

"Alright, love. If you're ready to go, we can start to head over?" He asks, rubbing his big hands up and down along your sides.

You nod, leaning into kiss him. It's short, but your lips melt against his and no matter how many times you've kissed him, every single one still feels as magical as the first time.

The two of you get to the restaurant in 15 minutes time, settling at a table close to the window, in more of a quiet area. You feel better than you have all day, but the loud noises and the people in here are making your heart rate spike just a tad.

You and Harry talk softly about random topics, nothing about work or anything too heavy because you don't think you're able to handle that right now. You giggle at the jokes Harry will slip in ever so often and his face lights up at the sound, loving that he can make you feel comfortable after having such a hard day.

When the waitress comes by to get your drink orders, your leg starts bouncing a mile a minute under the table. You rehearse the five words just a sweet tea, please, over and over in your head for when she gets to you. Somehow, you manage to squeak out the order, avoiding eye contact as a nervous habit, but now that you realize you're doing it, the fear of coming across as rude now terrorized your mind. But, before you could do anything about it, the waitress walks away.

"You okay, baby?" Harry can sense your nerves, practically seeing them coming off of you. He reaches his hand across the table to hold yours, rubbing his thumb along your hand.

You just nod, trying to calm yourself. You're being so silly, you think to yourself. What? You're really about to cry because you forgot you have to talk to the waitress to order your food? It's a small encounter, you don't understand why your head makes it such a difficult task. You start to get frustrated with yourself, almost bringing tears to your eyes.

"Hey, tell me what you need, darling?" Harry coos, ducking his head to get in your line of sight since you've been stuck staring at the table top for the past few minutes.

You clear your throat in hopes to push down the tears and diminish the scratching feeling in your throat, although, it didn't do much.

"C-can you..." You huff, now frustrated that you can't even speak, "can you please order for me?" You glance at him, but not holding your gaze long before looking out the window at passing cars. You feel so stupid asking him to order for you. For fucks sake, you're not a child. And you can't tell if it's worse or better that you know he's going to have no problem ordering for you (or doing anything for you, for that matter). He'd do anything for you in a heartbeat.

A soft, loving smile pulls on his lips before he speaks.

"Of course, my sweet girl. It's no problem at all, you want what you normally get?" He asks and you offer a gentle nod.

If he's being honest, he actually likes you depending on him like this sometimes. Not to say that you need him to do everything for you, because you're more than capable, he would like to add! But, knowing that you're comfortable and trust him enough to be so open with him and ask him to do certain things for you makes him feel so...valuable? Maybe that's not the right word he'd like to use, but he just loves that he can do something for you to make your life easier. Your joy brings him joy.

When the waitress comes back, Harry orders for the both of you. Your heart could explode with the amount of adoration you have for the man sitting across from you. He just... gets it. He gets you.

So, with full bellies and calmed nerves, the two of you make your way back home and get settled in y'all's bed to cuddle for the rest of the night. Sprinkled thank you's and sweet kisses are shared while the two of you share warmth under the dozens of blankets adorning the bed.

"I'm sorry I wasted your day off, H." You whisper out into the air.

Pressing a peck to your shoulder, Harry tugs you to turn so you're facing him. He shakes his head, "Y/N, you didn't waste my day. Always perfect with you." His big hands squeezing lovingly at your waist as if he's trying to transfer his love for you to you.

"Look at me," He says when he catches your eyes cast down at his tattooed chest. "You will never, ever, be a burden, lovie. I know y'feel like you're botherin' me, or everyone, by jus'existing, but you've got it all wrong. Baby, I hate seeing you so anxious, and I know you can't control it, but tha's not gonna stop me from doin' everythin' I can to make you comfortable...and loved."

Your face breaks out in, probably, the biggest grin you've had all day at his assurance.

"I always feel comfortable and loved with you, H."