#gonna see if i can organise a few heads to get park cans and listen in on olivia rodrigo when she's playing fairview in a couple weeks lmao

[happyendingsong]

fight like apes are doing a 15th anniv show for their first album, im not gonna be normal until fri 24th march 2023 and then im REALLY not gonna be normal ever AGAIN

[upsidedownwithsteve]

CAMP UPSIDE DOWN PART ONE

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[33K] summer camp, broken kayaks, too much tension and that boy you hate. an enemies to lovers camp counsellor story.

She drives me crazy and I can’t help myself.

By week four, you were in need of a break. And when a scheduled day off of yours finally aligned with Robins, you wasted no time in organising some time out of camp. A small trip to another nearby lake, one without yelling kids and sun bleached kayaks. 

The sun was high, the air was warmer than ever and the promise of a day in the water sounded like magic. You wanted green lakes, blue skies and roads lined with trees. You wanted the mountains in front of you and the camp in the distance for a few hours, music that you got to pick, and a bikini that wasn’t uniform regulated. 

You’d packed a cooler, cans of beer that Jonathan had snuck into camp for you both, sandwiches from Bob and you a pile of junk food that would go great with the joint Robin had been tasked from getting from Eddie. 

You didn’t expect your friend to meet you at the staff parking lot with the boy in tow, grin sheepish and her baseball cap jammed backwards on her head. 

“Hey, Munson,” you greeted easily, if not a little confused. You stood by your car, cooler at your feet, looking between the pair. 

Something suspicious was going on and it tugged at your gut. 

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he smiled, eyeing up your car like it was being evaluated. “Yeah, I don’t think this gonna fit us all, y’know.”

You turned, wide eyed to Robin and she flushed before kicking at a stray rock. 

“Come again?”

Eddie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder before gesturing to Robin. “Buckley invited us to join you both. She said music, swimming and food, and I was all, how could I say no to that?”

But you weren’t really listening to much else the boy said, the summer turning warmer around you because all you could focus on, all that seemed to matter was:

“Us?”

But then another bag was being dumped beside yours, the smell of cedar and mint and boy filling the air and you didn’t even bother looking before you were shaking your head at Robin. 

“No.” You stated, deadpan. “No, no way.”

Steve grinned, leaning against your car like he hadn’t a care in the world and he tilted his head towards Robin and Eddie, rolling his eyes as he said, “see?”

It was unfair that he looked good, soft jeans that weren’t as tight as the ones he usually wore, the knees worn and ripped from time. But in the time that you spent observing him, eyes trailing up and down the tall length of him, you didn’t notice how Steve did the same to you. 

Not that it mattered. ‘Cause you went back to glaring at Robin, palm thrown out to gesture at Steve and you didn’t really care that the back of your hand rapped against his chest. 

“Ow,” he muttered. 

You ignored him. 

“Why is he here?“

You didn’t care that it sounded like you were whining, voice petulant if not a little panicked because the idea of spending an entire day at a lake with Steve Harrington filled you with a cacophony of emotions. Your stomach tumbled, twisted, dipped. 

Instead of Robin answering, Eddie raised a hand like he was a kid in a classroom, smiled all soft and warm at you. 

“‘Cause I am.“

You groaned. It was extremely difficult to be mad at Eddie Munson. 

“I need out of this camp just as much as you do, princess,” Steve scoffed, “Henderson keeps going on about someone called Vecna and how he needs a bard.” 

“Well, take your own car!” You grumbled, toeing at the backpack he’d dropped by your feet. It felt heavy, cold with the cans of beer that were shoved inside. “Find another lake, preferably far from ours and deep enough so that no one will be able to find your body.”

“Charming,” Steve snarked, but he was already peering into your car windows, a frown on his face. “Yeah, no, my car needs an oil change and the nearest mechanic doesn’t open ‘til Monday.”

He pulled at your back door, ignoring your squeak of protest and you burned when a cassette or two fell out, followed by one trainer and an empty Gatorade bottle. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m not getting in this.”

You shoved at the boy, your shoulder nudging his until he relented and moved aside, letting you slam the door. You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyance already simmering in your chest, an all too familiar feeling. 

“As if I’d let you,” you huffed, “besides, the seatbelts don’t work in the back.”

“Have I told you recently that your car is a piece of shit?”

You glared at Steve, overly aware that you were once again standing far too close to each other and that you most definitely had an audience. You didn’t really have an argument, you knew your old car was lacking in several areas. Speed, reliability, cleanliness, maybe. 

“Not everyone’s daddy can buy them a shiny BMW, Harrington.”

“Don’t act cute,” Steve tutted, “I bought that car myself.”

You rolled your eyes before pushing away from him, shoulders nudging once more in a final act of defiance. The birds were singing, the morning was bright and you were already far too angry for what should have been considered healthy. 

But then Eddie was clapping his hands together, still grinning wide beside Robin and he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the old van that was parked at a weird angle beside the trees. 

“Guess I’m driving, huh?”

The minute the bags were loaded in the back of Eddie’s van, Robin rushed to the passengers door, hopping into the seat with a grunt and grinning as she hung out the open window. 

“Sorry, lover boy,” she called to Steve, eyes innocent except for the wicked flash of a smirk across her lips. “I get travel sick.”

“That’s a damn lie,” you glared at her, wondering how this morning had gone to shit so quickly. 

The temperature was climbing as the early hours slipped away, the sky turning from pink to lilac, blue around the edges and the sun coming through the canopy trees was brighter and stronger than before. You could hear the kids in the mess hall, the smell of breakfast and the buzz of conversation. 

Eddie stood between you and Steve, far too amused as the back doors of the van sat open, the shag rug carpet and mismatched cushions waiting. Steve looked at you and back into the truck, eyes wary, like he was weighing up his options.  

“I could drive, man,” Steve offered, hands shoved into his pockets and trying to avoid your gaze. 

You scoffed, unsure if you were relieved or offended that he didn’t want to spend the hours drive with you, trapped in the back together. 

Eddie tried to smother the smile he couldn’t help but give him, fist pressed to his mouth and he levelled the other boy with a mirthful stare. 

“Really? I thought you hated driving my van?” 

Steve didn’t know what to say. 

“I mean, you can if you want,” Eddie told him, his voice all caramel soft, he sounded like he was goading Steve when he turned to you, all sticky sweet smiles, “I don’t mind riding with Hawkins here, I’ll keep you right when the road gets bumpy.” He winked and offered his keys to Steve, silver dangling from a ringed finger. 

The only sounds came from the forest. 

Then, a sigh, rough and low, before Steve pushed past Eddie and his outstretched hand, the keys jingling as they went ignored. 

“Doesn’t matter, your clutch is fucked,” Steve clambered into the back of the van, gaze steady on the floor as he threw himself down onto a beanbag, ignoring Robin’s snickering. “It’s annoying as shit.”

Eddie grinned. 

The drive was silent for the most part, at least for the first twenty twenty minutes. The road out of camp took you through the forest, past the river that led to the lake and when the cabins were too far away to see, you finally relaxed. 

Until Robin made a fuss of finding some music that wasn’t Black Sabbath or any other band she’d declared migraine inducing, and finally she held up a cassette with a small noise of triumph. 

“Prince, Eddie? Didn’t peg you as the type,” she told him coyly whilst Steve snorted from the back beside you. 

“Hey now, Prince is perfectly acceptable,” Eddie argued, the tips of his ears turning red under his curls. “I am a man of mixed taste.”

“Sure you are,” Robin placated as she slid the tape into the player.

The roads were becoming less smooth as you neared your destination, favouring smaller, forgotten lanes as you passed the bigger lakes, flashes of blue and green flying past the small window in the back. 

The journey became more bumpy as you all turned off into a track that took you through a part of a forest, the van manoeuvring itself over overgrown roots that interrupted the trail, a too big rock making the truck shake. And as the opening guitar riff of Prince’s ‘Kiss’, started to play, you were sent into Steve’s side, the van bouncing with Eddie’s efforts to get you all to the water's edge. 

You scrambled to right yourself, moving away from the boy as if you’d been stung and the sudden proximity was jarring. You’d managed to spend the majority of the journey on either end of the van, backs pressed to the metal sides and you’d only just moved into the middle so you could lean over the front bench to take a handful of M&M’s from Robin. 

But the jostle of the drive meant that you landed on Steve’s lap, clumsy and in no way meant, but your back was suddenly pressed to his chest and out of instinct, his hands caught your waist before your head could jerk back and slam into his nose. 

‘I just need your body, baby, from dusk 'til dawn…’

“Fuck,” you whispered, desperate to not draw attention to the position the two of you were in, but Robin was snickering and Eddie caught sight of you in the rear view mirror and he let out a low whistle. 

“Christ, kids, at least wait until Robin and I are out.”

“Fuck off,” you and Steve both snarled, voices mixing as you shoved away from each other. 

The rest of the drive went like that, no matter how much you and Steve tried to cling to opposites of the van. The road got rougher as the lake came into view, blue green water meeting bluer skies, the beginnings of mountains and forests lining its edges. 

Your shoulders brushed with Steve’s, hips bumping, hands falling onto tops of hands, pinky fingers grazing as you both tried to stay upright and by the time the van parked up beside a sandy dip in the grass, you were both burning with the exertion of the journey and all the casual touching. 

Steve burst out of the van before anyone else, the engine not even switched off and the back doors brought in fresh air, bright sun and the smell of pine. 

The lake was on the smaller side, no jetty’s to tie a boat to, no long stretches of beach that became home to little kids and their buckets and spades. In fact, the four of you were the only ones there. The silence was dizzying, the views almost too pretty, and it was complete bliss before Eddie jumped out of the driver’s seat and grinned. 

He threw his hands up, his head back, messy curls tumbling as he let out a loud whoop, a noise that bounced off of the cliffs before the forest on the other side of the water swallowed it whole. 

You smiled properly for the first time that morning, Robin on your left, Steve on your right, as you all watched the city boy tear off his shirt, jeans abandoned on the way before leaping into the shallow water. 

The day went like that. 

Genuine happiness from four twenty somethings that were just trying to do enough to get by. You knew your co-workers loved Camp Upside Down as much as you did, it’s why you all returned summer after summer. But there was something different about being able to stretch out along sand, Robin’s head resting on your bare stomach ‘cause you’d pulled your shirt over your head the minute you’d lay down. 

Your unbuttoned shorts showed off the edges of a cherry red bikini, something you weren’t allowed to wear during work. The boys splashed in the lake, the campfire burned and you’d even reluctantly shared your lunch with Steve - half of your sandwich for some of the potato salad he’d managed to scrounge from that day's lunch prep. 

It was the burn of the sun and cool lake water, sand between your toes, stolen towels from camp, the smell of smoke and the taste of lukewarm beer. It was quiet, it was loud, it was the crackle of Eddie’s van stereo flooding out from its open doors, it was power naps with your cheek pressed to your bundled up shirt, watching Eddie throw himself from tree branches, laughing until your stomach hurt and it was not arguing with Steve Harrington. 

Not really. 

Not like before. 

And when Eddie retired to the back of the van to close his eyes and get out of the sun for a bit, Robin swam back to shore and got herself comfortable in the sand, a sketch pad in one hand and a case of pencils at her still wet feet. 

It left you and Steve together in the lake, deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom and you swam lazy circles around each other, floating on your backs, water lapping at your ears and your chin tilted up to the sun. 

It was nice. It was easy. 

Every now and then, the lake pulled you both closer, bobbing on what little current there was until your outstretched fingertips brushed the boys and you were both startled from whatever daze you’d fallen into. 

Eventually, you couldn’t find it in you to care too much, not when it happened again and again and again. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the heat, maybe you were just too lazy. But it’s how you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with Steve, bare legs brushing, skin slick with lake water and leftover sunscreen. 

You kept your eyes closed when you finally spoke, like it would make you braver, like you could keep your words a secret. 

“Why do you hate me?”

There was a pause after you spoke, a dead space in the water between you both and you could feel that Steve had opened his eyes. The water moved, splashed at your cheek and you felt his head turn, his gaze on you. 

“Who said I hate you?”

The tips of his fingers were still brushing yours. 

You laughed and it sounded nervous, a soft noise of embarrassment, like a girl with a crush. You didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“You argue with me about everything, you look like you wanna kill me every time I open my mouth near you and you’re constantly finding new ways to wind me up.” You told him casually, like it was nothing new, like it was normal. And it had been, for as long as you could remember. “I’d say that insinuates an annoyance, at least.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you, princess.” Steve smirked, “what if arguing with you was the best part of my day, huh?”

His reply made your eyes flutter open, heavy as if you’d been pulled from sleep, from a dream and the sudden reality of your situation made you dip further into the lake, your legs pulling you down and your feet kicked to keep you afloat. 

Steve mirrored you, easily treading water as the surface swallowed half his face, his eyes impossibly golden as they stared back at you. You were a foot apart, maybe two, and you realised rather quickly that you missed the closeness of him. 

“Don’t lie,” you scoffed but there was something about the way Steve was looking at you that made you feel doubtful. “What’s next, pulling my hair at recess?”

Steve laughed, a genuine burst of amusement from his lips that didn’t sound sarcastic for once. He let himself fall back, the water lapping at his shoulders and he grinned at you, the soles of his feet brushing up against your thighs, just for a second. 

“I dunno,” he looked a little pink around the cheeks, his smile nothing short of scandalous. “Would that do it for you?”

Your mouth fell open. 

This was a fight that you weren’t sure you could win, his teasing words no longer a taunt, the conversation no longer an argument. Steve looked at you with the same fire he always had though, a challenge in his eyes that you desperately wanted to rise to. It wasn’t really a fight, no, not anymore. 

But you still wanted to win. 

“Guess you’ll never know,” you shrugged, smug when Steve grinned wider. 

—————

The drive back to camp was a world away from the journey in the morning. You climbed into the back of the van with Steve without argument, all four of you soft and lazy from a day under the sun, hours treading water, throwing your tired bodies from small rocks and cliffs. 

The sun had warmed the truck, the air smelling like boy and coffee and a little weed, and you were slack as you fell into the cushions, not really caring that your foot was pressed against Steve’s thigh. 

Robin turned the radio on, the tinny crackle of static making the music seem softer and Eddie hummed along as he drove, the trees outside creating dappled shadows across everyone’s sunburnt skin. 

It was nice, it was peaceful. 

Your hair was still damp, your skin smelling like sunscreen and the lake, lemonade and cheap beer on your tongue and you didn’t really care when the rough road out of the forest sent you bumping into Steve’s side again. 

His hand caught your waist to steady you, a wide, warm palm on bare skin because you hadn’t bothered to button your shirt back up, the sides hanging open on your shoulders, the bright red of your bikini a reminder of the day spent in the water. 

Your shared conversation in the lake hung in the air as Eddie drove you all home, the long haired boy and Robin oblivious to it. But it fizzed in the back of the van like a firework waiting to pop, the anticipation of wondering what colours would fill the air when it did. It felt like the slow climb to the top of a rollercoaster, it felt like the night before a storm, it felt like what if?

When you arrived back at camp, dinner was over and the kids were lingering, heads tilted to the sky that was uncharacteristically dark, navy clouds looming overheard with the threat of rain. You’d left the sun behind, hanging over a different lake, along with a different side of yours and Steve’s relationship. 

You didn’t know what to say when the four of you clambered out of Eddie’s van, Robin and the other boy talking happily about music and Robin’s sketches, rucksacks over their shoulders as Steve awkwardly handed you the empty cooler. 

You mumbled a thanks, suddenly shy and you stood at the back of the van, waiting to see if Steve would say something, if you would be brave enough to say anything. 

But then the sky split, the clouds crashed and rain tore down on the camp. 

You all scrambled under the canopy of the trees, yelling swears between laughter and the sound of the kids screeching was drowned out by the rumble of thunder, the on-shift counsellors telling everyone to return to their cabins. 

No one really said goodbye, the rain making you all run to your bunks, the day ending without so much as another shared glance. So you tripped through the trees with your hair plastered to your forehead, laughing when Robin stumbled in mud and shrieked. By the time you both made it home, you were giggling on the porch, skin soaked, shirt and shorts sticking to you and Robin was wide eyed. 

“Wait! I’m going to Vickie’s!” She almost shouted, barely heard over the roar of the rain, the rumble above. 

You laughed, incredulous as you watched her run back out into the downpour. 

“You’re what?!”

“Vickie’s cabin!” She called back, “no one’s gonna care where everyone is when we’re all stuck inside!”

And then she was gone, probably for the night, you assumed. 

That’s why you were surprised when there was a knock on the door fifteen minutes later, the rain still falling, the day turning to night quicker than normal as the clouds stayed heavy, the forest dark. 

Everywhere smelled like damp moss and pine, wet bark and the lingering smoke from the campfire that had long been ruined. You’d only managed to drag a brush through your hair, the strands tangled and partly dry, your shorts uncomfortable on your skin and your shirt hanging off one shoulder. 

You answered the door, not sure who to expect, not sure why Robin would be knocking, why anyone would be out in this weather. 

When you saw Steve standing there, you realised that the boy hadn’t even been an option. Surprise coloured you, mouth falling open at the sight of him on the porch, drenched, shirt sticking to him, almost translucent and his hair a wet riot. 

He was holding a blanket, the soft knitted one you’d taken from your bed to use on the beach that day. It was half soaked from where he’d hidden in under his arm, running through the rain from his cabin to yours. 

You stared, shocked. 

“I think, uh, I think I shoved this in my bag by accident.”

He was yelling over the dim of rain, the world noisy around you both, the forest creating chaos, a whole other kind of fight. It was waiting, it was wondering if you were going to join in. 

“It couldn’t wait?” You cried back, completely bemused by Steve’s decision to come over for nothing more than a stupid blanket. 

But the boy was struggling to respond, shoulders shrugging, cheeks pink and looking a little wild. Thunder grumbled above, the trees swayed and a drop of rain slid down Steve’s cheek, rolling over the curve of his lip. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied, voice too honest, “it probably could’ve, yeah.”

It happened like the storm, the slow roll of electricity over your skin, a building in the atmosphere, something in the air that told you that something big was coming. 

And Steve was still standing there, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, and neither could you when he was looking at you like that. 

Rain soaked shirt, brown hair sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes, all flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“Was that everything?” You asked, voice almost too quiet to be heard over the sound of thunder above, the sky goading you, telling you to say something else.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Steve said and it sounded like a lie, it sounded too sweet. “Maybe? I- I don’t know.” 

You swallowed, chest bursting, heart pounding, ‘cause it felt like you were supposed to be waiting for something more, something spectacular, something that you were supposed to give into a long time ago. And then:

“Christ, fuck it-”

He was crashing into you, arms tugging you into him rather than wrapping around you and you let him, Jesus fucking Christ, you let him, a gasp that sounded like a moan falling from your lips as he kissed you. 

Your hand was fisted in the front of his shirt, the other tugging into his damp hair and the sounds he made against your mouth were obscene. Nothing about this was gentle, nothing about Steve was soft. He was pushing you both backwards, into the cabin and out of the storm with his hands gripping hard on your waist, crescent moon marks left on your skin and it was sinful, it was too good, it wasn’t enough. 

You pulled where he pushed, tugging him into you, the door slamming shut and the rain pounding in the wooden roof. The kiss was messy, heated, another fight you both wanted to win. 

It tasted like the storm, like mint and the woods and Steve, and it said: fuck you, fuck me, I don’t hate you at all. 

It was a kiss that was wildly different to the one you shared at the gym, the one with an audience, a kiss that was supposed to be nothing more than a dare. This kiss was all teeth and tongue, wandering hands that grabbed at exposed skin, pulled and shoved shirts out of the way so you could touch and touch and touch. 

The lack of sun outside made the cabin a little darker, the small light by your bed casting nothing but a weak glow and moody shadows, perfect for hiding feelings in. You pulled Steve into the room, clumsy feet tripping over a shoe or two, the strap of a bag, the blanket that he dropped to the floor in favour of holding you. 

No one spoke, not apart from letting out hushed curses, swears that sounded like prayers, unholy noises that came from the back of your throats, whines and begs that came from years of tension. 

Robin's notebook hit the floor, pencils and pens rolling with it when you stumbled into the desk and Steve grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you onto it. He was licking into your mouth with a greed you’d never experienced before, a hand on your cheek, telling you to tilt your head this way and that so he could kiss you deeper, kiss you filthier. 

It was fun to fight back a little, grabbing at the hair at the nape of his neck in return, fisting it in your hand and pulling until he groaned for you, lips faltering against your own and attacking your neck instead. 

Your legs were around his waist and you weren’t sure how it happened. You knew you didn’t mind, you didn’t care, not anymore. Because Steve’s hand was curled around your knee, hiking your leg further up his hip so he could move into the space between your thighs. 

The sounds you were letting out were a little pathetic, small sighs and whines, asking for more without saying the words and all you could do was pull the boy into you and open your mouth for him when he used his thumb to tug at your bottom lip. 

He kissed you like he wanted to argue about it afterwards. 

“Shit,” you gasped, eyes rolling back when he rocked into you, body pressed against yours, all wet clothes and rain damp skin. “Steve.”

The groan that ripped from his chest was absolute sin, lips leaving yours to press his face into your neck, his hands flexing on your hips. 

“Say that again.”

You were confused until you realised that you weren’t sure of the last time you called the boy by his actual name. No Harrington, no wonder boy, no asshole, no douchebag. 

At least, not right now. 

It made your head swim, the hold he had on you, literal and figurative, because for the first time in your life, you did as the boy asked. 

It was a whimper against his ear, mouth moving deliberately against the shell of it, all dirty and coy. Your lips brushed his earlobe, your hand cupped his jaw and you canted your hips into his, just the once. 

“Steve.”

A dam burst and you couldn’t help but appreciate how gorgeous Steve Harrington looked when he lost all the composure he liked to pretend he had. 

“Oh god, holy shit,” he was back on you, all lips and tongue and teeth and hands, “you sound so fuckin’ pretty, so good, fuck.”

You whined in response, a high, keening noise that you didn’t even recognise but you were on fire, burning in all the places that his lips touched. You weren’t gentle with each other, hands grabbing, tugging, getting as close as you possibly could and you needed more, now. 

“Steve…” 

He moaned again, whispered your name back to you like a prayer and god, he was right, it sounded so good coming from his lips like that. 

“What d’you want?” Steve asked, low and rough, his lips on your neck, skating across your pulse. “What d’you need, huh? Tell me.”

You wanted everything, all of it at once. You wanted his lips, his tongue, his mouth, you wanted his hands, you wanted him naked, you wanted him under you, above you, against you. You wanted his noises, you wanted to make him moan, to make him swear, to make him throw his head back and call out your name. 

You wanted him. 

You wanted Steve fucking Harrington. 

Instead you said, “-want more, need more.”

Another groan, a disbelieving sound, one that you shared with him, because Steve was running the flat of his palm across your throat, fingers curling briefly before they splayed out and ran the length of your body. 

They trailed down your chest, down between the thin, red straps of your bikini, between the open sides of your shirt and they landed on the still wet band of your shorts, a finger tapping across the button. 

“D’you want me to touch you?”

Jesus Christ, you couldn’t stand it. You squirmed on the desktop, legs tightening around the boy’s waist to gain some much needed friction but Steve moved his other hand to your thigh, holding you still. 

“C’mon baby, use your words,” Steve murmured. “You’re usually so good at that.”

Baby. 

It shouldn’t have made your heart stutter, it shouldn’t have made you wetter than you already were. But it did, fuck, it did. 

You leaned back, hands on the table and chest heaving, your shirt sliding from your shoulders and your head hitting the wall. You stared at the boy through your lashes, lips parted and glossy from his kisses. 

You looked wrecked and Steve fucking adored it. 

“Touch me,” you wriggled again, hissed when he tightened his hand around the curve of your thigh, a delightful sting on your skin. “Steve.”

He huffed out a laugh then, mixed with a moan, and he smiled at you, sticky sweet. “Say please, princess.”

Absolutely not. 

“In your dreams, Harrington,” you gasped out, a laugh lacing your breath. 

‘Make me,’ is what you meant.  

Steve tsked, grinning. “So stubborn,” he said. 

‘Challenge accepted,’ is what he wanted to say. 

And then you were kissing again, deep, slow passes over each other’s lips, teeth catching, tongues soothing and the boy swallowed every moan and gasp you gave him. His hand found your neck, cupping it to move you the way he wanted, head tilted so he could kiss you even harder. 

Steve kissed like he argued, like it was his favourite hobby, like he wanted to have the last word, steal the breath from your lungs and leave you shaking. 

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugged a little mean when you nipped his lip almost too hard and you surprised even yourself with the sound that left your mouth. 

Steve pulled back from you, just a little, just so his nose brushed against yours and you could see the dark glitter of his eyes. 

“Well, would y’look at that,” he murmured and his voice was tougher than you’d ever heard, sticky honey and a storm, “I guess you do like that.” 

You were reminded of your conversation in the lake and you flushed, hating the smug expression on the boy’s face, hating that you liked it even more. 

Steve was real fucking pretty when he was proving you wrong. 

But you didn’t say anything, didn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, you just just shoved him backwards, following the way he stumbled until you were pulling him back into you, pushed onto your toes so you could catch his jaw with your hands and press your lips back to his. 

“You’re insufferable,” you told him between kisses, voice too breathy to carry any real heat.

“Yeah?” Steve shot back, grunting a little when you pulled at his shirt, his arms flying up so you could pull it off of him. He stood, shirtless, chest heaving and gazing at you like you were something to eat. “I could say the same about you, sweetheart.”

And then he was turning you, walking you backwards with his mouth on your neck until your body hit the wall and his fingers were back on the button of your shorts. 

He sucked a bruise on your throat, all pretty and sharp, lilac on your skin and he nosed at it, humming thoughtfully. 

“Say please,” he told you again, a finger dipping into the denim, scratching soft against the red edge of your bikini. “Be nice for me, princess, huh?”

It was dizzying, his words. His touch. His breath on the column of your throat, his hair brushing your jaw. 

Another kiss, sweet and soft, jarring in the way he held you to the cabin wall, body hard and solid against your own. His thumbs pressed circles into your hips, soothing and a silent reminder that you could stop this whenever you wanted. 

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you.”

It was too sweet a deal to say no to. Especially when Steve was looking at you like that, like he wanted to give you the world, like he’d been waiting an age just to touch you like this. 

So you let out a huff, more whimper than protest and your hands fell to his jeans, damp with rain and tight for other reasons. You cupped a palm over him, hard and thick inside the denim and you were close enough that your lips brushed over Steve’s when you spoke. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

He was popping the button on your shorts before the words left your mouth, groaning and canting his hips into your hand as if he couldn’t help himself, as if this was all suddenly too much. 

You slipped your shirt from your shoulders, the wet smack of it hitting the floor as you both toed off your shoes, a different trainer hitting a different corner of the cabin, patience gone as Steve slid the flat of his palm down the curve of your tummy, fingers reaching into your bikini bottoms to find you slick and ready for him. 

“Oh shit,” you both gasped out together, your hands flying to grip Steve’s shoulders, nails digging into the muscles there as his fingers dragged through your folds, thumb finding your clit, his middle digit easily sliding inside of you. 

“Jesus christ, sweetheart,” Steve groaned, eyes falling shut as he leaned into you, forehead to yours and his free hand pulling at your knee, hitching your leg back to his hip so he could push his finger into you a little easier. 

It was a slow drag, a white hot burn that had you clawing at him, already teetering. It was almost embarrassing, almost. It would have been if Steve wasn’t rutting against your hip, desperate as you were, looking so, so pretty and wrecked. 

“D’you always get this worked up when we argue?” 

You thought he was joking, and you were about to tell him off, the bite of your response on the tip of your tongue, but your body had other ideas. You clenched down on him, involuntarily, hips stuttering at his question and he swore into your mouth, delighted. 

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, another kiss, quick and dirty, “you fuckin’ do, don’t you?”

“Of course you’d run your mouth,” you snarked, but still, you tilted your head back for the boy, just so he could suck another kiss onto your throat. “Why am I not surprised?”

He grinned against you, all teeth and curled his finger into you, hitting a whole other spot. Another hot drag, slipping out of you before he pushed back in again, two fingers moving a little faster, his thumb running circles. 

“Somethin’ tells me you like it,” Steve told you, smug. 

And god you did, you really fucking did. 

You didn’t satisfy the boy with an answer, you just whined, pressing your lips back to his as you chased the high you were desperate for. Steve seemed to catch on pretty quick, surprisingly in tune with the way your body was reacting to him and he curled his fingers in and out of you a little quicker, mouth hovering over yours, noses bumping, panting softly. 

“I’m gonna come,” you told him, your hands buried in his hair. “Steve, fuck!”

His hand that was still gripping your thigh was the only thing holding you up, Steve’s body pinning you to the wall and was smiling, victorious as you tightened around him, your face pressed into the crook of his neck as you came, soft sounds falling from your lips. 

“Aw fuck,” he hissed, “that’s it, there you go princess.”

The boy coaxed you through it, murmuring soft, sweet praises, telling you how pretty you sounded when you came, how good you felt around his fingers. It was too much and it wasn’t enough. And when you shrugged off the hazy warmth of your orgasm, you were quick to move into Steve, lips back on his as he slipped his hand from your shorts and grabbed at your waist.  

You walked him backwards, in charge now, smiling against his mouth when he groaned into you. 

The backs of Steve’s thighs hit your bed and you pressed one more kiss into him, a little mean when you nipped at his bottom lip and then shoved him. There was a satisfaction in watching him fall into your mattress, eyes shocked, lips parted and before he could say anything, you hooked your thumbs into your shorts, pushing the denim down your legs. 

The cherry red bikini was the only thing you had left on, the straps of it slipping down your shoulders, the bottoms cut high on your hips. You waited to feel the rush of insecurity, the self conscious need to shy away and cover up. 

But Steve was staring at you with a slack jaw and flushed cheeks, eyes roaming greedy over bare skin and all the places he could get his mouth on, and that nervous feeling? It never came. 

“Pants off, Harrington,” you told him, voice a little too breathy to sound demanding.

He smirked, pushed onto his elbows so he could tilt his head up to meet your gaze. “Always knew you’d be bossy,” Steve murmured and you warmed at the notion of him thinking about this, about you, like that.  

“I’m not bossy,” you argued, but then you were on him, straddling his lap in a way that made Steve lose his rebuttal, his argument slipping from his lips as his hands found your waist again. 

You pushed him back into your pillows, hands flat on his chest and overwhelming need to make him fall apart like he’d done for you taking over. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, princess,” Steve grinned, tongue caught between his teeth as he gazed up at you through messy hair. 

But his smirk slipped from his hips when you settled over him properly, nails pressed into his bare chest as you rocked your hips a little. Steve groaned, loud and unabashed and you think you kinda adored how loud he was about it. 

His palms kneaded at your hips, a push and pull that told you ‘holy shit, stop’ and ‘fucking hell, do that again.’

Your fingers shook as you popped open the button of his jeans, hands tugging at the waistband, sneaking under his boxers to find him hot and hard for you. Steve sucked a breath through his teeth, looking a little wild underneath you and his hand shook like yours did when he grabbed at your wrist. 

“This is gonna be over way too quick if you keep doin’ that.”

His voice was all rough honey, sweet to your ears, low enough to make your thighs clench around him. 

“D’you have a condom?” you rushed out in a sigh, ‘cause you were desperate now, brows knitted together with impatience and Steve tapped at your hip, silently asking you to shift back. 

You moved, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he fished his wallet out of his pocket, hands fumbling with the leather until he pulled a silver foil square out of the back.

“Is that-?”

Steve grinned, all teeth and cheekiness, eyes sparkling. “The one Murray threw at us? Yeah.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or shove at the boy for his smugness, so you did both. A huff of breath falling from your lips, a hand pushed to Steve’s chests in a poor attempt at a scolding and then he was pulling you down with a hand around the back of your neck. 

“Were you hoping to get to use it?” You asked, eyes fluttering closed when Steve hooked his fingers under the straps of your bikini. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, Harrington.”

But Steve just hummed, unphased by your teasing when he had his lips on your collarbone, pressing a line of kiss to your breast. 

“Seemed symbolic, no?” 

And then you were on your back, tucked under the boy with his elbow pressed to the pillow, his other hand trailing up and down your waist, taking in soft skin and new freckles and scars, mapping out the scar on your knee, the bruise you got from helping El do a cartwheel on your hip.

You looked up at him then, time slowing with his movements, all soft hands and softer eyes and oh my god, this was Steve fucking Harrington. You weren't ready to admit what this meant, not yet, you weren’t ready to realise what this was. 

So you reached up between your bodies to tug at his jaw, fingers spread out to tap at his chin, thumb on the plush curve of his bottom lip.

“You gonna kiss me or what?”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he huffed and he tried to look annoyed, he really did but Steve kissed you anyway, heat flooding you both, the rain battering louder on the roof as you pulled at his jeans, pushing them down his hips.

“I- god, shit,” Steve was mumbling, voice cracking at the feel of you under him, against him, body squirming for friction, for him.

You pushed at him, lips still moving against his, giving him all your soft noises, rolling you both until you were on top again, precariously close to the edge of the bunk, sheets rumpled.

“Of course you wanna be on top,” Steve snarked, but he couldn’t hide how his eyes were glassy, how needy his hands were as they tugged at your bikini and you laughed as you raised your arms for him, letting him pull the swimsuit off. 

You’d never felt more powerful when you smiled down at him, saccharine sweet. “Don’t you like it?”

Steve was speechless. Just for a second or two, at least. 

“Yeah, I really fuckin’ do,” and oh, his voice sounded too sweet, a little broken and wild, all husky just for you. 

Everything snapped, the tension, the waiting, the storm outside. The foil packet crinkled as Steve ripped it open and the air fizzed when he rolled it onto himself, tip already leaking at the sight of you waiting for him.

Neither of you had the patience to allow you to move off of him in order to take your bikini bottoms off, neither of you wanted to stop touching for that long. There was a new found desperation when Steve sat up, back against the headboard as you crowded over him, gasping and sighing into the mess of his hair when he pulled your bikini to the side, swiping his fingers through you. 

“So wet,” he whispered, lips pressed to your chest, teeth grazing skin, kisses pushed to every part of you he could reach. “You hear that, babe? How wet y’are for me?”

You were on fire and yes, yes you could. It was obscene in the best way, intense and a little dirty, and you watched in awe when the boy pulled his fingers away from you, sucked them into his mouth instead and soothed your responding whine with a pet to your hip.

“Shit, shit, shit- Steve.”

“I know, I know,” he cooed, voice far too soft and gentle, and Jesus, he was still trying to tease you. “Tell me what you want, yeah?”

But then the charade fell when you sat up and slipped over him, hard tip nudging against you before you blew out a breath, groaning as you took him all.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he was clawing at you, hands pushing at your hips to make sure you didn’t move just yet, eyes clenched shut as his forehead fell against yours. “Oh good girl, good fucking girl, princess.”

That did it for you, that little gush of praise and it had you clenching around him, making you both moan. You rocked your hips, once, twice, against Steve’s tight hold until eventually he helped you. Strong hands lifted you up and down over him, the slick, hot slide of the boy making you dizzy.

He whispered your name, moaned it, gasped it out on a hot breath that fell across your cheek and you pushed a palm to his jaw, held his chin in your hands to make him look at you and you felt the boy throb as you did it. 

“My name sounds so pretty when you say it,” you murmured, repeating his previous words back to him and he groaned and laughed, hips canting up into yours with a snap.

The bed was moving against the wall, a dull thud, thud, thud that was hidden by rain and thunder, but Steve still grinned when you moaned louder than ever, his hand pushed to your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“So noisy, huh?” That taunting tone was back, the one that made you press yourself down onto him a little harder, deep enough to make him gasp and grab at your waist. “Oh, you’re too sweet, you know that? So pretty - you know just how to get me all wound up, don’t you?”

You moaned, soft and sweet, to pent up to argue back but you moved a little quicker, made Steve’s head fall back, neck taught and fingertips bruising on your thighs as he kept you spread open for him. 

You pulled away from his hand, breath hitching as he twitched inside of you and you mouthed at his throat, lips pressing a scattering of messy kisses there and you trailed them to his ear. 

You hummed, a happy noise that came from the back of your throat and you wound your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. 

“You close, hmm?” You gasped, chest pressed flush to the boy’s and you both rocked your hips, a dizzy mess of desperate movements. “Huh, Steve? Are you goin’ to come for me?”

The boy realised your game and he huffed out a laugh, groaning as he tucked his face into your neck, smelling rain and leftover sunscreen, letting you take your hands through his hair, tugging a little when you wanted him to slam his hips up into you. 

His hand found its way between your bodies, slick with sweat and rain, thumb running perfect, little circles over your clit as he forced you into the same breathless high that you were pinning on him. 

“Christ, yeah,” he grunted, voice shot, every word tumbling into the next, “come w’me? Not gonna last much longer, y’feel too good.”

His voice was a shot of whisky, caramel and sticky sweet when he spoke into your skin, a hand roaming up and down the expanse of your bare back, tongue laving over a nipple, sucking bruises into the dip between your breasts. 

You can’t remember a time you had ever felt so needy, it was startling, it was electrifying. 

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you sounded wrecked, and Steve adored it. “Harder, fuck, harder, I’m close-”

Amazingly, Steve was so much more agreeable when he was buried to the hilt inside of you, hands pressing bruises to your hips as he slammed up into you, meeting your thrust for thrust as everything came to a high and you crashed into it together. 

“Awh shit, that’s it, there you go sweetheart.”

The boy whispered your name when he came, hips stuttering, mouth pressed to yours as he held you still, your limbs twitching from the aftershocks of it all. Steve petted at your thighs, hands all soft and shaky, forehead pressed to yours as you both panted, trying to catch the breath the other had stolen.

The rain had stopped when you clambered off of his lap, Steve helping you move on your shaky legs as he tied off the condom and tossed it into the bin near your bed. The birds were chirping again when he lay down beside you, both of you half naked, clothes rumpled, hair misbehaving, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

The clouds were lifting, the room not as dark, a stripe of sunlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, gold cutting through the shadows. There was a drip, drip, drip of leftover rain on the porch, the soft gasps from both of you, sheets tangled at your feet. 

Quiet passed over you both, skin still tingling, lips feeling bruised from each other's mouths, the taste of Steve Harrington and rain still on your tongue. 

I can’t get any rest, people say I’m obsessed. 

The last week of summer camp went by in a slow roll. Like the way a camcorder stuttered over its film, lazy and with a soft crackle, memories trapped between sunspots and dust. 

Days passed without you being able to see much of Steve, Hopper finally making good on his promise as he kept you both apart, Steve sharing lifeguard duties with Billy and you co-ordinating crafts with Nancy.

The kids kept you all busy, the last few days bringing a new buzz of excitement as the thought of returning back home, to school, to reality, set in. You helped Will finish his painting, watched with pride when he presented it to Will, the other boy awed. Nancy settled arguments between Max and Lucas, raising her brows at you in amusement when you told her that they were fine, they were both just too stubborn. Steve finally taught El how to swim and when Robin caught Dustin and Suzie sharing a shy first kiss behind the old bike shed, she didn’t have it in her to tell them off.

In fact, you didn’t see Steve until three days after the storm, trailing out of Hop’s office after a surly looking Billy, both of them sporting bruised faces and cut lips, Steve’s hair messier than usual and Billy’s red lifeguard shirt was ripped at the collar.

He glared at you as he passed, blonde hair mussed and blue eyes cold, as if somehow, his black eye was your fault. But you didn’t worry yourself over Billy Hargrove’s sour mood, your feet quickly carrying you over to where Steve was.

Catching Steve’s elbow in your hand didn’t feel anywhere as near as unnatural as it did a week ago, your touch almost too casual on him. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, your hand on his bare arm, not really, not after that night.

But you hadn’t spoken about it since, you hadn’t touched, hadn’t pressed your lips back to his. So now, the feel of your palm curled around his elbow had you both burning. Steve stared at you, eyes flickering to where you held him and you swallowed hard, told yourself to be brave and you didn’t let go. He didn’t pull away either. 

“Hey,” your voice was a soft murmur, the low buzz of the kids in the mess hall almost drowning you out. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You were frowning as you took in the bruise at his temple, shades of lavender and navy creeping towards his eyebrow, a cut on his lip that was red with dried blood, his hair falling over his eyes like he’d been thrown around. 

Steve shrugged, eyes glancing back towards the door of Hopper’s cabin, scowling when he saw that Murray was at the window, watching you both with a mug of coffee to his lips, hiding his grin. Steve took your hand in his, gesturing to the old gym and you would’ve followed him even if his hand wasn’t pulling you along behind him.

Once you were both hidden from the rest of the camp, bodies pressed into the cool shadows that the side of the old building brought, Steve turned to you, a hand still tangled in yours, the other finding the dip in your waist, just because he could. His touch brought shivers to your skin, a feeling you still weren’t used to and you found that you didn’t hate, not at all. 

If anything, it made you braver, urging you to take a step closer, your hand taking his chin in your grip as you tilted his head up to the sun, the bruise catching the light and you made a soft noise, a quiet hum. Steve let you push and pull at him, the start of a smile on his lips that you were sure he’d normally try and hide from you, but his fingertips were curling into your staff shirt, pushing it out of the way until his skin found yours and your breath hitched.

 “Billy?” You asked, careful.

“No, I’m Steve,” he joked but it was weak, his smile too tired and you huffed, catching his gaze with a stare he knew too well. 

It was no secret that Steve and Billy had never seen eye to eye, Steve took genuine offence to the way that Billy treated the kids, too harshly and with rough words, rolling his eyes if they ever got upset, laughing when he managed to scare them. 

But it had never come to a head, fist staying clenched by sides and jaws clenched, but Steve tended to try and stay out of fights - for the kids sake if anything. 

And you knew that, knew the boy better than you thought, years of living in the same small town, summers spent in the same warm forest making you pick up more than you realised about Steve Harrington. 

“What happened?” You asked again, still quiet. 

Your thumb ran over the cut on his lip, gentle and if Steve wasn’t in pain, you probably would’ve smirked when he shivered at your touch. 

“Jus’ Hargrove talkin’ shit,” Steve grunted, voice rough as if he’d been yelling. Knowing Hopper and Murray, he probably had been. “It’s fine, m’fine, princess.”

The pet name carried so much more affection than it had before, warming you to the bone, skin tingling, cheeks flushed. 

You frowned, lips pouted, unperturbed when you dropped your hand from Steve’s jaw and it landed on his shoulder instead, the two of you swaying slightly together, not all that used to touching just yet, but enjoying the closeness nonetheless. 

“You don’t usually let him get to you,” you huffed, brows still knitted together and you were somewhat annoyed at yourself for not being there to break the boys apart. Steve had proved himself capable of listening to you now, and you were not above using it to your advantage, especially if it kept him out of the way of Billy’s fists. 

Steve just looked at you, eyes all soft, brown sugar and honey, shrugging with a small smile, like he was keeping a secret. 

“Stranger things have happened, haven’t they, sweetheart?”

You stared at him, lips parted, wondering if this was another taunt, a tease, the start of an argument, because neither of you had had a chance to talk about what had happened in your cabin that night. You’d both woken up tangled together, bodies lazy and tired, the moon in the sky outside and Robin thankfully still gone. You had wrapped yourself in the sheet that smelled like Steve as you watched him get dressed, cheeks warm and nerves fluttering at your chest. 

Neither of you had spoken, but he smiled all soft and bent down to kiss you before he left, his lips yielding on yours, a small noise of something huffing from him as he let you cup his jaw, holding him to you a little longer. The fight seemed to have left both of you, too slow and sleepy to pretend anymore. Steve had traced the bruise he’d left on your neck, pushed your still messy hair from your forehead and kissed there too before he left, the cabin door closing softly behind him. 

So you were waiting for a snarky comment, a dismissal, an argument, maybe. But Steve grinned and squeezed at your waist, fingers still brushing warm underneath your shirt and then the bell rang, signalling the end of dinner and you both startled, jumping apart, despite being hidden.

“Steve-” you stopped, laughing embarrassed when Steve said your name at the same time. “Uh, you first,” you told him, achingly shy all of a sudden.

“Do you- uh, you think you could meet me later? By the lake?” Steve asked, squinting at you like he too was suddenly feeling awkward.

You felt like a teenager standing at her locker between classes, the school hall empty and your heart in your throat. You grinned, tried to hide it by ducking your chin to your chest, an already scuffed trainer kicking at the twigs by your feet.

“Are you asking me on a date, Harrington?” Your voice was all soft teasing, warm like the summer and it made the boy smile, cheeks pink, eyes rolling with affection, not annoyance. 

“No,” he scoffed and you heard the lie there, heard the warmth. “Shut up.”

You laughed, snorting softly in a way that made Steve grin even harder, both of you feeling uncharacteristically giddy in the presence of the other, and god, you couldn't help but think about how the boy had dragged you into his lap, half naked and desperate. 

“I hate you, remember?” Steve whispered it, moving a little closer, a hand playing with a stray lock of hair, knuckles brushing against your cheek. 

You hummed and nodded, brows furrowed and lips pursed as if you were indeed, remembering. You remembered how the boy tasted, how he felt, how wild he got for you when you tugged his hair and bit down on his pretty bottom lip. 

So you pushed softly at his chest, all strong muscle and warm skin underneath his faded staff shirt and you looked up at Steve through your lashes.

“Yeah, I remember,” you murmured back.

And then the sounds of the kids spilling out of the mess hall finally got too loud, the evening hardly over and there were jobs still to do. You both heard Eddie announce that week's dungeons and dragon’s meeting, a crowd of the kids cheering, Nancy corralling others to the campfire, s’mores and storybook in hand. You had promised Max that you’d swap some mixtapes with her, the redhead and El both at your side during lunch, brandishing old Madonna and a double cassette of Kate Bush that Max said she was sick of listening to.

“Eleven o’clock?” Steve asked, hand brushing down your arm, any excuse to touch you before his palm curled warm around your elbow. “Where the old boathouse used to be?”

You nodded, relishing the last touch before he left, hand in his hair as he walked back out to the chaos of the camp, meeting Dustin on one of the walkways and ruffling the young boy’s curls. You waited until Steve had disappeared into the woods, following the trail that led to where Eddie was setting up his wizard game.

It didn’t take long for you to settle yourself onto a fallen log beside Robin, cheek leaning on her shoulder as Suzie settled herself by your feet, leaning on your legs as El tucked herself into the other side of you. The kids were all enraptured by Nancy, the small crowd lit by the glow of the fire as the girl told stories of three headed dragons and kids with superpowers, little girls and boys who were all strong enough to defeat monsters and nightmares.

And then when the fire was starting to burn out, the night darker, the kids sleepier, you swapped your old tapes with Max’s, sending the girl back to her cabin happier than before. The rest of the camp followed the trails into the shallow parts of the forest, the moon filtering through the branches as they tumbled into their bunks, all smelling like smoke and with marshmallow stickiness on their fingers. 

Nancy waited until Robin had been pulled away by a disgruntled Mike, Will on their heels as they claimed they needed an impartial party in order to settle a game debate, Eddie too busy laughing to indulge the boys.

“So,” Nancy murmured, shoulder nudging yours, “you heard about Steve and Billy, huh?”

You panicked at the mention of the boy, a small surge of ‘oh god, she knows’, before you remembered the bruises, the fight that Steve never explained to you.

You blew out a breath and shrugged, suddenly feeling like it was too hard to play normal, like Nancy would look at you and know, like she’d notice the lavender bloom on your skin, hidden by your shirt collar. 

“I mean,” you started, voice overly casual, “I knew they tried to beat the shit out of each other, but I dunno why.”

The girl looked at you through frizzy bangs, brows raised and hidden behind her fringe. Her mouth fell into a little ‘o’, surprise colouring her features before she smiled, knowing.

“You don’t?” You shrugged again, following Nancy’s lead as you both made your way around the now empty logs, gathering up chocolate smeared paper plates and forgotten sweaters. The fire simmered between you both, the burnt out logs still glowing and smoking, the faint sound of Hopper’s records playing from his open office window filling the air. 

“Hargrove was being his usual self, a complete dick.” 

You snorted at Nancy’s words before she continued, still smiling. 

“But then he started talking about you,” the girl said, lips twisted, eyes gazing at you. “Kept asking Steve if he thought he should make a pass at you, some disgusting comment about how easy you’d give it up.”

You screwed up your face, unimpressed but unsurprised by Billy’s words and you were standing still, feet planted as you waited for the rest of the story. 

“Guess he finally pushed Steve too far, ‘cause before any of us knew it, he flew for Billy, fist straight to his face.”

Your jaw dropped, lips parted, eyes wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nancy huffed out a laugh, “took Eddie and Hop to break them up, Steve was really gunning for him. But I guess, I can’t really blame him, Billy was still running his mouth even after Steve rattled his jaw.”

“Huh.”

You were speechless.

“I know, right?” the girl smiled and she walked around to take the stack of plates you’d collected, looking at you with the air of suspicious interest that only Nancy Wheeler could manage. “Has, uh, anything happened between you two?”

You baulked, eyes ever wider and you wondered if Hopper’s music was loud enough to cover the thumping of your heartbeat. You laughed, forced, pulled your brows together and scrunched your nose. “What? Who?”

God, you’d never made it as an actress. 

“You and Steve,” Nancy replied lightly, settling another inquisitive stare on you. She seemed to be searching your face for clues, for hints. “You’ve been getting along better lately, no arguments.” She grinned, sharp, “it’s been quiet.”

You barked out a laugh, nervous and shy, because she was right, of course she was right, Nancy was always right, she just didn’t need to know the reason why. 

So you shrugged again, feeling warm, wondering if you needed to blame the leftover heat from the fire for your flushed appearance. “Yeah, uh, I guess Hopper finally decided to keep us apart.”

Your words sounded scripted, the lie sounded thick and it tasted weird on your tongue. Nancy smiled at you like she knew everything. But she nodded, soft and placating as she sighed and picked up another sweater, chocolate stained, and a hat that looked like Dustins. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, “I guess.”

----------

Robin was already asleep as you pushed your feet back into your shoes, your friend snoring softly from her bunk, hair covering her eyes, lips pressed into a pucker with her face squished to the mattress edge.

The rest of the camp was somewhat quiet, the hushed conversations coming from some of the open cabin windows, torch lights shining out of cracks in the curtains, whispered stories and secrets lingering in the still warm air. Hopper’s cabin was illuminated in the distance, music still playing softly, the backlit figures of the camp leader and Joyce sipping wine over the desk. 

You passed Eddie as you walked towards the lake, sticking to the shadows off of the path, converse crushing pinecones and the boy was leaning over the edge of the railing of his porch, a sneaky joint hanging from his fingertips, the tip glowing a dirty red in the dark.

He caught your gaze, grinned wide and toothy as he raised a hand in a lazy wave and you felt too warm knowing that he was well aware of his own missing bunkmate. Did he know? Did Steve tell him? Did you mind?

“Late night rendezvous, Hawkins?” Eddie whispered, head tilted to look at you teasingly. You flipped him off and he chuckled, low and throaty. “Don’t argue too loud now, you don’t wanna wake the kids.” 

And then he winked, stubbed his joint out onto the railing and padded back into his cabin, barefoot and ready for bed. 

The camp was darker without the campfire lighting up the main square, the tall trees blocking out most of the moon, the stars white dots between indigo clouds. It got brighter as you neared the lake, skirting the edges of the beach before you waded through the longer grass, the messier part of the waters edge that no one was usually allowed into.

Wildflowers and weeds brushed your bare shins, your pyjama shorts not doing enough to keep you cool, even in the night. The summer lingered in the air, on your skin, leftover sun kissing at your cheeks, your shoulders. Or maybe it was the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side of the lake, who was waiting for you.

So you moved a little faster, crickets chirping in the longer grass, cicadas buzzing from the forest you’d left behind. The moonlight danced off the surface of the lake, the water silver, the air fresh and sharp. Everything was pine and cedar, damp moss and old smoke. 

And then Steve was sitting in a clearing in the bush, bare feet dipped up to his ankles in the water, jeans rolled up as he sat on the remnants of an old dock, half of it destroyed by weather and time with the bare bones of the boathouse behind it. 

Steve looked up as you approached, hiding his smile by looking back out at the water and he shuffled along the old boards a little, letting you sit down next to him. You pulled your shoes off like he had, tucked your socks inside so you wouldn’t lose them and you sighed when the cool water licked across your feet. 

You wish you could say the silence was comfortable, and it was, in a way. The night wrapped around you both like a warm blanket, familiar in a way that only the camp was, smoke and mountain air, fresh water and cedar. 

But there was something buzzing underneath it all, an electrical current that carried tension and questions. It fizzed, it crackled. It was stolen glances from under lashes, hands curled around the edge of the dock, close enough for pinky fingers to brush. It was the promise of another kiss, the flushed cheeks of remembering that you had kissed. It was the boom, boom, boom of a nervous heart, that sticky feeling of not being able to swallow properly. 

Your shoulders brushed, hands grazed, breath hitched and chests burned. There was a smile on your lips that you were trying to hide, the kind that made your cheeks ache, biting your tongue to stop the sheer giddiness of it all. 

“D’you still hate me?” Steve asked, and he sounded like you felt, that hidden smile in his voice, rosy around the edges, the sunshine boy in the middle of the forest. 

You laughed, soft and on a huffed breath, chin tilted down so you could watch the way your toes trailed patterns in the water, the way the lake looked like ink underneath you both. You thought about his question, about how you would’ve answered it a week ago, how you wanted to answer it now. 

You realised then, that despite what had occurred in that small space in time, the answer would have been the same. 

“I’ve never hated you, Harrington,” you told him and his surname sounded so much nicer now, an endearment on your tongue instead of a curse. “Not really.”

Steve glanced at you from under his lashes, brown eyes looking black in the night, the shadows on his face blue and the bruises from Billy looking darker than before. 

He smiled, lips curling a soft line, dimples appearing and he looked adorably shy. He nudged you, shoulder bumping your own. 

“I don’t know if I believe that, princess.”

You knew he was joking, at least you were sure he was. But you guessed that such a statement required an explanation. So you inhaled the mountains, the forest, the lake and Steve in your lungs, before blowing it back out with all your pride. 

“I was always jealous I guess,” you shrugged, eyes on your hand, fingers playing with an old knot in the wooden board you sat on. “You always seemed to get what you wanted. You were so popular, everyone liked you. Even the teachers.”

“Kinda immature, I know,” you flushed, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “It just seemed like everything I wanted - everything I worked so hard for - was just handed to you.”

You snuck a glance at the boy, knowing that your words were unfair. Steve wasn’t stupid, he did well in school, well enough to get good grades and get away with being too cheeky every now and then. 

“I know that sounds harsh and- and I’m sorry that I always spoke shit about your dad,” you cleared your throat nervously. “About your family, your uh, financial situation… that was never very nice of me.”

It wasn’t a secret that you didn’t live in a house that was as big as Steve’s, or that through middle school, your mom worked two jobs. But you were happy and it wasn’t Steve’s fault. You knew that. You’d always known that. 

But the boy only nodded, a knot between his brows and he moved closer until his knee knocked against yours as if he was telling you it was okay. 

“No, uh, you’re right,” Steve whispered. He was frowning, like he had only really come to this realisation then. “You’re right, about my dad.”

You didn’t want to be. 

“He’s not really around, you know? Neither is my mom. There’s always business meetings, trips out of town, out of state.” He laughed, humourless. “Which is why we stay in that nice, big house, I know but-”

Steve swallowed, face twisted in sadness and frustration and you ached to reach out and smooth away the lines there, the furrow on his forehead, the downturn of his lips. Somewhere in the distance, something small splashed in the lake. 

“-but they’re just never around. They never were.” He looked at you, smile sad, eyes sadder. “My dad’s just an ATM. He’s a cheque, a couple of numbers after a report card.”

“Steve…”

He didn’t want your sympathy you realised, he didn’t want pity. But he didn’t brush you off when you lay your hand on his leg, rough denim under your palm, just above his knee. 

“My mom was the same, pizza money on the counter, a couple of hundred dollars for the weekend when I was fourteen and they had to go to Memphis -no, Minnesota - I can’t remember. But I was alone the whole week.”

“That’s horrible,” you told him. Your statement was simple, an understanding, a fact, and Steve liked that your voice didn’t soften for him, it didn’t change. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding and pulling the hand that was on his knee into his own. Your fingers tangled with his and your tummy flipped at the roughness of his palm. 

“I hated when he pulled that shit, you know? The science fair?” Steve scrunched his nose in annoyance. “He didn’t even stay for the results, to watch me get a prize. He just paid and left.”

Your hand squeezed his a little tighter. 

“Your parents were always there,” he murmured and his voice warmed. “I remember in fourth grade, when we changed classes and you were so nervous, your mom was there giving you a hug and your dad was taking photos even though you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying,” you huffed, voice breathy because you were embarrassed by the memory, shocked that Steve remembered. “You noticed me?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

He only hummed, still smiling, both of you leaning into the other more than before, letting the boy take your warm weight as you accepted his. 

“I always noticed you,” he said and his sincerity was life altering. “You just drove me crazy.”

It didn’t sound like a bad thing, when he said it like that, when he was looking at you the way he was.

“Did you always hate me?” 

Steve grinned, shaking his head as he looked out onto the water. “Never did, princess, I told you that already. I guess I was jealous of you too, huh?”

You were shocked, lips parted, heart heavy. But then you shook your head, thinking of something else to say to clear the weight in the air because you didn’t want to think of fourteen year old Steve in that big house all alone anymore. 

“I work here to save for college,” you told him, like it was supposed to be a secret, like Steve hadn’t heard you talk to Dustin about it before. “My grades weren’t quite good enough to score me a scholarship so-” you trailed off, gesturing uselessly to your staff shirt you were still wearing. 

“I failed my Chemistry exam,” Steve told you in return, voice unaffected. “Then I told my dad I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to college, that I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do.”

You turned to look at the boy, traced the lines of his face with careful eyes, the slope of his nose, his jaw, the curve of his cheek. 

“He cut me off,” Steve said simply, “we don’t really talk anymore. So I’m tryin’ to save up for my own place.”

“In Hawkins?” You asked, because nothing else seemed to matter. 

“Anywhere,” Steve answered. “Where d’you wanna go to college?” 

“Anywhere,” you told him and it felt like a confession. 

His smile was blinding. 

—————

Steve kissed you behind your cabin, the forest your only audience. He pressed you into the wet wood of the wall, just like he had done the days before, rain on his skin and his lips on your neck. 

But this felt like a first kiss, it felt like the first time. No one dared you to do it, no fight or challenge in either of your bodies and it made you melt against him all slow and soft, butterflies in your stomach, your heart in your throat. 

It still felt new, it felt like a crush, like something to wake up and look forward to in the morning, like the first day of summer, the morning before camp began. 

Steve kissed you lazy and deep, like he had all the time in the world, like he wanted to swallow you whole like then night. He tasted like mint toothpaste and soda, the fizz of it making you buzz, cherry and sugar on your tongue. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingertips pressing gentle to your skin, his thumb soothing over the sting of his teeth on your bottom lip.

It made you push up onto your toes, chasing his mouth, your hands in his hair and making him bend down for you, sighing all happy like he didn’t care you were telling him what to do. 

He kissed you like he wanted to keep you. 

It was hard to pull away from each other, even when the rest of the camp was asleep and the night was drawing into early morning. You craved the touch of the boy you’d always kept at arm's length, amazed at the way you responded to him so easily, so desperately, like your bodies were both yelling at you, asking ‘why weren’t we doing this all along?’

You wanted to tell him your secrets, you wanted to share your summer. You wanted to ask what this meant, but you were too scared, maybe still too full of pride and the idea of going back to Hawkins and being rejected was too much to bear. 

So you took the stolen kisses behind the cabin, hands touching bare skin under shirts, edging just shy of being scandalous, the sounds of your soft breath mixing with Steve’s and it was dizzying. 

It was enough for now. 

You went to bed with one more kiss still fizzing on your lips, a new mark pressed on your neck, hidden under hair and matching the one you had given the boy. Steve watched as you walked into your cabin, footsteps soft and the shy squeak of the door made you both cringe but Robin stayed asleep. 

You waved goodnight, eyes tired but your heart still thumping, and when Steve raised his hand in response, a smile on his face that had the shadow of shyness, you wanted to squeal. 

It was ridiculous, this giddiness, this new feeling for the boy you’d known for so long. It wasn’t all that different though, being pressed up against Steve Harrington as he kissed the breath from you. He still made you wanna bite back, kiss him harder than he’d kissed you, a sense of a challenge lingering around you both at all times. 

It just felt more fun now. 

—————

Hopper seemed almost disappointed that he hadn’t managed to collect more damage money from you and Steve. There had been a mason jar sitting on his desk from day two, a haphazard sticker on it with the words `therapy savings' written in sharpie. After the kayak incident, there had only been a few more dollars stuffed into it, some loose change for snarky comments made at meetings and one green M&M that Eddie had managed to throw into it from across the room. 

But the camp was still standing after another year, the buses and cars of parents littering the spaces between the cabins as the kids dragged out too big duffel bags, yelled about lost games and forgotten socks. 

Some kids lined up to hug you goodbye, El and Will sniffling softly into your t-shirt as your own tears fell into their hair, your arms wrapped tight around them. You’d see them next year, like you always did, when they were older and taller and less likely to throw themselves into your arms in greeting. 

Dustin told you all about a radio he was building, something that would allow you to chat to him through the school year and he was handing you a scribbled note with all the best walkie talkie brands on it and numbers for different frequencies. He let you mess his curls one more time, his grin wide and his cheeks pink. 

Lucas and Mike helped you load your bags in your car, despite their parents standing waiting with smiles on their faces. You pestered them both into a hug, both of them pressed to a shoulder as you told them to be good and stay out of trouble. 

Your voice didn’t really crack until Max appeared, Walkman around her neck and another cassette in her hand. She tried to look casual about it when she handed it to you, a piece of tape stuck to the front with the words ‘love from Max’ written on it. 

“Maxine,” you gasped, all faux shock and she rolled her eyes. “You made me my own tape?”

The girl shrugged, one hand pulling at the end of a braid as she scowled, trying to keep the pink from her cheeks. 

“It’s no big deal,” she muttered to the ground, “your taste in music needed expanding.”

She said it huffily, but she meant ‘I’ll miss you.’

“Thanks kid,” you whispered, throat tight, eyes glassy and you nudged your shoulder into hers. She pressed her head to your arm in lieu of a hug, saving that one show of rare affection for Lucas instead. 

Then she was gone, along with the rest of the kids, and the camp was finally quiet again. 

Billy picked up his wages and left without saying goodbye to anyone, duffel bag dragging on the ground as he grabbed a greyhound out of Indiana, face still mottled with bruises from Steve’s fists. 

Robin left with Eddie, the boy telling her that he’d drive her home instead of her having to share the same fate as Billy, shoved on a bus during the high heat of the day. She didn’t take much convincing when Eddie jumped into the driver seat and started blaring Prince from the radio, curls messy as he grinned at her. 

“C’mon Buckley, you can’t say no to me.”

And she didn’t. 

They boy hugged you tight before they left, Robin promising to write, promising to visit and Eddie lifted you off of your feet, crushing you to his chest as he whispered in your ear, “look after my boy, huh?”

They left in a plume of dust and dirt, the sound of ‘purple rain’ trailing behind them. 

Nancy and Jonathan were next, the girl doing one last round through the cabins, arms full of forgotten drawings, a lone teddy, seventeen odd socks. Then she hugged you, eyes fond, leaving with her boyfriend for a week's holiday in his hometown before promising you that she’d catch up with you back in Hawkins before college started. 

It left you and Steve alone in the staff parking lot, sun shining, blue skies, green forest and birds chirping. 

He was leaning against his car, arms crossed like the way he was looking at you was no big deal, smile all soft and familiar now, like that’s the way he’d always looked at you. 

Maybe it was. Maybe you’d never noticed. 

You pressed your hip into your own car, eyes full of trouble as you gazed at him expectantly. Steve raised his brows, smirked like he wanted to argue with you, like he wanted to kiss you. 

“Race you home?” He asked and god, his voice was honey, sweet and warm, capable of stopping you in your tracks. 

You laughed, patting the hood of your old car affectionately before telling him, “nah, my car is slow as shit.”

Your callback to his own words at the beginning of camp made him bark out a bright laugh, genuine amusement in his eyes and he shook his head, lips twisted. 

“Glad you can finally admit it, princess.”

You wondered if this was a goodbye, if this was it. You wondered if you were supposed to talk about what had happened, if this kiss you shared behind your cabin meant the same to Steve as it did to you. If you were supposed to go back to sharing the same town and calling each other names like you hadn’t been on top of him. 

So you waited, a beat of silence, a roll of summer washing over you both. The breeze picked at both your hair, stray stands blowing across lips and mouths and you sighed, soft, wanting. 

“Uh, there’s um,” Steve was scratching the back of his neck, eyes fond on you, smile all nervous. “There’s this diner in Lowell, they do a pretty good burger.”

You grinned, happiness beating out of you like the fucking sun. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve called back, grinning just like you. He looked pretty, softer than you once knew him, all wild curls and caramel eyes, new freckles on his nose, the bruise you gave him faded on his throat. “D’you wanna stop for lunch?”

You could’ve sworn the only sound in the forest was your heart. 

“Are you asking me out on a date, Harrington?”

You waited for the scoff, the teasing, the taunt. You were so used to the quick, sharp bite of a reply, that when he shrugged all slow and lazy, head tilted to look at you from under his lashes, you were surprised. 

“Yeah,” he told you again. 

It was such a simple reply. One word, so sincere, heart stoppingly sure. 

You ducked your head, hiding your grin, your flush, the way your eyes must’ve been glittering. It felt a little magic, a little manic, that feeling of something new.

It felt like a first kiss, a boy touching you during a thunderstorm, like the taste of rain, the smell of campfire smoke. It was all Steve fucking Harrington. 

So you nodded, took a breath, took a chance, grinned and opened your car door. 

“I’ll meet you there.” 

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

[saturnsummer]

sunbae.

Sol meets into a familiar someone. This time, she’s not letting her chance pass again. 

ao3 link

notes: prompted by @thenerdywriter ! taking place a few years after the gang has graduated and started their jobs. it’s been such a joy writing this! (editing, grammar and other mistakes will be taken responsible by me.) if anyone else has prompts, do ask them in the submission box and i’ll get to you when i can! 

thank you @thenerdywriter​ for this!! i thought of many scenarios, like them being famous prosecutors, or getting married. but i felt that this would be an interesting twist. i hope you like it! thank you for this opportunity! 

words: 2256 words

Sol loves being a lawyer. Like, she really does.

Well, besides having to hustle in notes, write reports, follow her bosses to meetings where she just sits and listens, she loves it. 

After graduating with her grades just skimming the pass, she landed a job at a small law firm. She acts more like a secretary than a lawyer there, to be honest. But money is money. Her mother is getting older, and with Byeol expressing her interest in dancing, she couldn’t say no. 

Thus, she sucks it up and sends out other resumes. She still works part time on weekends at the book shop back in Hankuk University, so she guesses she’s managing well. She still lives in that dangerous alley, but it’s much safer now that she returns home every night. 

She tried to stay in contact with her study group. Jiho landed himself in a big law firm, and SolB (despite her mother’s wishes) is at another giant law firm. BokGi got picked up by a firm mostly doing human rights, and Yebeom is working at the company next to BokGi. (So much for besties.) Yeseul is at a small firm, doing mostly cases on women rights. 

Joon Hwi, on the other hand...

He was picked up by a law firm in the States. Immediately after graduation, he left for the States. Everyone stayed in contact, but with life catching up, weekly drinks slowed to a meeting every other month. Yeseul and Sol still meet fairly regularly, but Sol can’t help but to feel empty when she notices Joon Hwi is missing. 

Everyone feels it, but she feels it the most.

-----

Sol can’t deny her feelings. When she saw him in Professor Yang’s lecture as he picked up her highlighter and gave her a sweet smile, she felt time freeze. Later on, as they became study buddies, she couldn’t help but sneak glances to observe his face when he taught her. She would always hitch her breath whenever he would lean towards her, or tease her with that smirk.

She has always thought that he returned her feelings. The way he would walk her home some nights. How he would always send her a good morning and night text, and place cans of coffees on her table at the library. It didn’t take her long to realise that he stuck post its on her table in their third year every week. (His handwriting was too uniformed, and only he owned circular shaped ones.)

But on the day of Yeseul’s trial, Sol knew that Joon Hwi probably didn’t like her. That he wasn’t protecting her, but her roommate. Of course he would. He was offered to privately tutor her, and they were always top ranking students. She vaguely remembers international events where they both would represent Hankuk in conferences.

Sol didn’t mind it. She was never good enough for him anyways. On graduation, as they took photos and promised to keep in touch, Sol found her mouth dry when it came to Joon Hwi. She had no reason to. (After all, it was just Joon Hwi.) But she felt even more nervous than the time she took her exam.

She planned it out. She wrote a script and memorised it in her head. She wanted to let Joon Hwi know about how she felt, even if he didn’t feel the same. She wanted to thank him for being her friend, for being a support that she will always be grateful for. That wherever he goes, she will always support him in life.

But as they threw their caps in the air and took one last group photo, Joon Hwi slipped away, never to be seen in person again.

-----

Sol found out a week later about his job in the States. They kept in contact by messages and the occasional video calls with the group. But with the time difference, Joon Hwi started texting lesser. Sol was no less busier, managing Byeol and her mom’s age and slowly taking on her responsibilities as the breadwinner of the family.

She used to come home after work and sit outside at the wall, wondering if Joon Hwi could see her in the States at night from the security camera. She would put on her headphones and sit there, watching as people pass late at night. Sometimes, she would speak aloud, as if Joon Hwi could hear her through the camera.

Many days, she would sit outside with a bottle of soju and two cups. She would only drink from one, and the other would just be there as reminder of her good days, when she was a study and drunk regularly with her best confidante. She often ended those nights half-drunk, murmuring her troubles out loud. (As if Joon Hwi was there to listen.)

When Yebeom spilled the beans that Jiho and SolB were dating a year later, she couldn’t believe it. It was a total twist. Does Joon Hwi know? He must be hurt, she thinks. She wanted to text him, call even. But she decided against it. He’s probably too busy for her. 

And so Sol went about her mundane routine. She drank with an extra soju cup alone. Used circular post its. Ate ramyeon like her life depended on it.

And it went on.

-----

“Yah, kid!” Gollum smacks Sol’s arm with a freshly printed set of notes.

“You really had to?!” Sol barks back, soothing her arm and organising the copy room.

“When are you gonna stop working? You’re an adult! You’ve got your degree!” Gollum asks, shoving another stack of papers in the copier machine. Sol sighs.

“Till I get out of this job and move on to a better one. God, I’m still pathetic, aren’t I?” She cries out as she carries a stack of books to the door.

“When were you ever pathetic?” A gentle voice rings as Sol stops dead in her tracks. That voice. The voice that she can’t help but miss. The voice that lectured to her about law and her health every other day. Raising her eyes, she meets his familiar handsome face with his hair pushed back out of the way, different from the bangs he once had in school. His brown eyes crinkle. 

“Joon…?” She asks breathlessly, still taking in his presence.

“Hello, sunbae.” He smirks. The same exact smirk she still remembers. Sol drops her stack of books to the table nearby and without warning, throws her arms around his neck. He stumbles backwards, but his hands rest gently on her waist, hugging the shorter woman closer to him. She inhaled his musky cologne, feeling his warmth wrap her body.

“I… I don’t get how you’re here. Aren’t you in the States?” She says softly, pulling away from the hug.

“Well, I was. I just got back.” He tells her. Peeking his head over, he waved to Gollum.

“Long time no see, Gollum! Mind you dismiss your staff early?” He cheekily asks, earning a swat from Sol. Gollum, to Sol’s surprise, nods and waves them away. Joon Hwi grins and takes her hand into his and grabs her purse in another before leading her out of school. (Gollum, meanwhile only grins. They better get together this time round, he thinks.)

-----

Joon gives her time to catch up with him and they take a stroll to the park nearby. He shares about his adventures in the States and the different cases he’s gotten. Some difficult, some interesting.

“So, what’s been going on?” Joon asks Sol.

Sol begins retelling about how the group has been doing. She retells BokGi’s and Yebeom’s offer and how they have lunch every other day. How Yeseul decided to want to fend for women abuse victims as well. However, she leaves Jiho and SolB dating for the last.

“Oh, um… I’m not sure if SolB has told you, but…” Sol trails off. Joon Hwi only tilts his head in confusion. Her eyes are uncertain and almost awkward.

“…That her and Jiho are dating?” Joon Hwi completes the sentence for her with enthusiasm.

“Wait, how did you know?”

“Jiho told me. Well, I encouraged Jiho.” He says, leaning back on the benches they sat on.

Now Sol was confused. Didn’t he like SolB? Why on earth is he encouraging Jiho? Her face contorts into a stage of loss and confusion. Joon Hwi only lets out a light chuckle.

“I don’t like SolB. I never did.” He answers her, as if he could hear her thoughts.

Sol freezes. So for years… he never had feelings for her? She feels like she’s back in law school, sitting with him in the empty study room when he leans in closer to look at her notes, closing the distance between. Her heart beats fast and she feels a sense of warmth rising to her face.

“Why? You thought I liked her, didn’t you?” Joon Hwi teases. She turns her face away, knowing that he can see her face blushing red.

“Whatever.” She grumbles just loud enough. Laughter fills her ears as she turns back around to pout at him. Soon enough, she’s suppressing a small smile as they lie back and look in the distance to their alma mater.

Sol sits in her thoughts for a few moments. She now knows that Joon Hwi doesn’t like her ex-roommate. He’s right next to her. He’s in Korea. He still remembers her. He still cares. 

But does he feel the same?

“Come, it’s getting late.” He says, taking her hand in his and pulling her up. 

Sol doesn’t notice the way his fingers are intertwined with hers. 

-----

Joon Hwi leads her down a familiar road, before getting three popsicles. Sol knows this road like routine, and can walk it blindfolded. But she lets him lead her. The entire time, she takes in his tall figure. His broad shoulders. How so many years later, she’s still in love with this very man. No matter how many men tried to flirt and confessed to her, she couldn’t return her feelings.

Because Han Joon Hwi had stolen hers to begin with. 

“Is Byeol home?” Joon Hwi asks, as they stop at her front door. As if on cue, a much taller girl emerges from the door, dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, hair pulled back with a large clip. 

“Oppa!” Byeol’s face lights up as Joon Hwi slightly bends to give her a warm hug. Byeol crashes into his arms and Joon Hwi swings her in a circle as Sol just laughs at their childishness. 

“You’ve grown taller, haven’t you, you cookie? And gotten so much prettier, like your sister.” He laughs, ruffling her hair. Handling her a popsicle, she flashes a grateful smile. Sol swats his arm, trying to not burn from embarrassment. 

“Unnie is still the prettiest to you, isn’t she?” Byeol asks as she opens her popsicle. Sol swerves around and is ready to smack Byeol for spouting nonsense, but Joon Hwi only laughs and pats her head. 

“You’re right. Your unnie is still the prettiest and smartest to me.” He says, his eyes locked on Sol, his smile still sweetly there. Sol is transported back in time to when she would catch Joon Hwi stare at her while eating her pickles and only smile at her as she happily eats. The days, that she’s now certain showed that he had feelings for her. Byeol looks at her sister, eyes locked on Joon Hwi and silently retreats back home with her half eaten popsicle.

“Joon, there’s something I need to say.” Sol mutters out loud. She has to do it now. She lost her chance years ago, and she's not losing it again. 

“Me too.” Joon Hwi says, his hands burying into his pockets, the way it does when he’s nervous. 

“No, please. I’ve waited years to tell you this. And I don’t want to screw this up because I know you probably think I’m still hung over old memories. And I don’t know when you are going to return to the States, cause I may never see you again. And then I’m gonna-” Sol is rambling as she feels the same nervousness every time she’s alone with him. 

But Joon Hwi’s lips cut her off. His hands cup her cheeks as he brings her face nearer to him, feeling her soft lips on his. Sol is too shocked to react, but she kisses him back, her hands by her side unclenching from her balled up fists. They pull away, as Joon Hwi leans his forehead against hers. Their noses brush each other and their lips brush one another. 

“I love you, Han Joon Hwi. I have been, for the past years.” Sol whispers breathlessly.

“I know. And I love you too, Kang Sol.” He replies, before crashing against her lips once more. Sol feels the fireworks, as she finally feels her heart open.

Han Joon Hwi is here.

Han Joon Hwi loves her. 

-----

Joon Hwi leaves for the States a week later. A month later, he appears at Sol’s house, announcing that he will be shifting back home. He reconnects with everyone else in the group and the meetings become more frequent. Sol now drinks with another cup, filled by the person she loves. Instead of circular post its, she gets morning love messages. 

And at dinners, when she leans her head against Joon Hwi’s shoulder and looks at her intertwined fingers, she can’t help but feel her heart explode in so many emotions. 

She’s finally whole.

[dameronology]

love in the time of PTA meetings {marcus moreno} - 1/5

summary: despite what pinterest shows, being in a parent in the twenty first century is hard; especially a single parent. your kid takes up your entire life and the idea of finding a fairy tale is laughable - that is until you finally attend a p.t.a meeting and cross paths with a certain marcus moreno.  {series masterlist}

warnings: i do not have children. i don’t know children work. this written entirely what i have seen them do in the sims 4. also, swearing. 

- jazz

Leaving work early was never a good look.

Leaving work early because your child had managed to set fire to a trash can was...well, it was something else entirely.

After rushing out of a very important meeting and parking your car in a did-you-park-it-or-crash-it manner, you were sprinting across the play ground and towards the front entrance. Having given up half way through, you’d kicked your stupidly high heels off and held them in one hand, trying to organise your slightly disheveled hair as you entered the building. Most parents might have been nervous to collect their kid after a call from the principle, but this was a regular Tuesday for you. Jack was a good kid, perhaps just a little...misguided. In your books, it was impressive that a five year old had managed to discover pyrotechnics, though you sensed the school might have been a little less lenient about it. 

‘Hey!’ You greeted the principle with a smile as you breezed through the doors. 

Jack was in a chair by the front desk, a gleeful look on his face when he saw you. As far as he knew or cared, he got to go home early and watch Paw Patrol for the rest of the day. 

‘Afternoon.’ He replied. ‘You’re lucky it was only a phone call.’

‘I know, I know.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m sorry. He’s...adventurous-’

‘ - he singed off his class mate’s eyebrows!’ The principle cut you off. ‘Given Monday’s biting incident, I see it fit that Jack take the rest of the week off.’

‘Right.’ You sighed. ‘Thank you. And sorry again.’

‘I’ll email you a list of...behavioural specialists.’ He muttered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my kid. He’s just...curious.’ You insisted. ‘C’mon, buddy. Let’s go home.’

Jack sprung up from the chair, taking your hand in his and skipping out the door beside you. Parenting had been hard enough when you’d been married, and even harder now that his dad was out of the picture. It meant that everything fell on your shoulders; school runs, packed lunches, earning money, staying sane. You barely found the time to sleep, let alone go to soccer matches or take him to extra curricular activities. It meant that the stay-at-home mums - the ones who drove minivans and had specified walking shoes and shared memes about parenting on Facebook - muttered about you. 

I heard Jack’s mum couldn’t make it to the parent-teacher association meeting because there was a divorce hearing. 

Look at the kid’s lunch! Oh the saturated fat, the horror!

What do you MEAN your five year old isn’t vegan?!

Frankly, you wanted to whack them over the head with their own damn vision boards. So what if your kid was a little rough around the edges? He’d discovered fire today! If it had been in the stone ages, that would have been impressive. The kind of thing that would have earned him a McDonald’s, had the fast food chain been around at the dawn of time. With the way things were going, paired with the fact you knew your fridge was empty, it looked like you were heading for a Happy Meal anyway. 

‘So do I get all week off?’ Jack peered up at you, tugging on your arm.

‘Yup, all week.’ You sighed. ‘But it’s not a reward, okay? It’s...’

You stopped in your tracks when you saw Marcus Moreno’s car pull up in the lot. Naturally, it was expensive and electric and perfectly between the white lines. He gave your less-than-stellar parking a frown as he breezed by - not that you noticed. Frankly, you were too busy admiring him. You saw his face more on the news than you did in person, but he was beautiful. Talk, dark, handsome and mysterious, but also...friendly and approachable. He’d held the door open for you once two years ago and that had been it for you. There had been whispers about the fact he was a widow, though you’d tried not to pay attention to them. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business. You knew he was a good dad; you’d had the chance to meet Missy when Jack had got his head stuck between the playground fence and she’d helped pull him out. She was sweet and well-behaved and clearly well brought up. Could you say the same for your own kid? Eh, parenting was all trial and error. 

‘It’s what?’ Your son’s voice dragged you back to reality. ‘Am in trouble?’

‘What?!’ You jumped at the question. ‘No, I just...’

‘Because Principle Eikner said I’d done something bad.’

A small sigh escaped your mouth; placing his backpack on the ground, you knelt down to his height, gently placing your hands on his shoulder. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, little man. We're just gonna take a few days out to talk about the rules and what it means to do the right thing, okay?’

‘Dad always said not to listen to the rules.’

‘Your dad said a lot of things.’ You reminded him. You stood back up, offering your hand to him. ‘Let’s go home.’

After a few minutes of bartering and the promise of a McDonald’s, you finally made your way back to the car, now with Jack attached to your back. If giving him a piggy back ride meant getting home quicker, it was a price you were willing to pay, especially since the other mums were starting to arrive to pick up their kids. The parking lot was slowly filling up with minivans - compared to your decade-old Honda Civic. It had seen better days, and one too many run ins with other cars and parking lot bollards. Still, it got the job done. 

‘Oh, I’m so glad to see you!’ You froze in your tracks again. This time, it wasn’t because of Marcus Moreno’s otherworldly presence, but rather due to the sound of the resident soccer mum. 

‘Carol.’ You turned around to face her (slowly, given the five year old on your back) with a forced smile on your face. ‘Hi.’

‘I take it you’re here for the parent-teacher’s association meeting?’ She gave you a phoney grin, handing you a leaflet. ‘I know you couldn’t make the last one, because of your...d-i-v-o-r-c-e hearings.’ 

‘I can spell!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘It’s okay, buddy.’ You reached up to ruffle his hair, smile not faltering. ‘But yeah, you’re right. And what about it?’

‘Nothing.’ Carol quickly shook her head. ‘So you are coming to this one? It starts in ten minutes.’

Truth be told, you’d no idea there was even a meeting tonight. You usually ignored the damn things until the news letter came out, and then you could read it from the comfort of your sofa with a glass of wine. There was nothing you stopping going tonight, aside from your intense hatred for them. 

‘I wanna get home and watch South Park!’ Jack chirped from behind you.

‘I don’t - I mean...I don’t let my five year old watch South Park.’ You said. ‘He walked in on me watching it one time and...point is, yes, I’m here for the meeting!’

‘No, you’re not-’

‘- Jack, just sssh!’ 

Carol blinked in surprise, but her phoney smile returned a moment later. ‘Excellent! I’ll see you inside.’

You inwardly groaned. Why had you just done that? You fucking despised sitting in a stuffy gym for the better part of an hour, listening to the perfect mums bang on about healthy eating and limiting their kids’ internet time. You already questioned your parenting skills as it was - the meetings only made it worst. You didn’t assimilate into that crowd; they were all married, with big houses out in the ‘burbs and bank accounts that could cover their kids ever-expanding interests and activities. Meanwhile, you were living on one wage and your two-bedroom apartment had a balcony, not a back garden. If Jack wanted to go on a field trip, you usually had to save up for months. You didn’t know if you envied the other mums’ lives, but you certainly weren’t jealous of how they viewed working mums and single parents. 

‘That lady is mean.’ Jack murmured from your shoulders.

‘Yeah buddy, I know.’ You nodded. ‘Guess we’re going back to school.’

--

Lugging the kid and his bag back up the school yard and towards the building was exhausting - at least it was your work out for the week done. By the time you’d reached the gym and placed Jack back on the ground, your shoulders were aching and you were disappointed to see that the refreshments didn’t have any alcohol. Was it too late to sneak out? The fire exit was right there and-

‘- shame this thing doesn’t have any wine, huh?’ A man was stood next to you, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the luke-warm jug of coffee on the table ahead. 

Tall, dark hair, stubble and with a faint hint of expensive aftershave you pretended not to notice? Hello, Marcus Moreno. Goodbye, ability to form coherent sentences.

You blinked in surprise. ‘Yeah. I could do with a glass. Or ten.’

‘So you hate these things too, huh?’ He smiled. 

‘With a passion.’ You returned the gesture. ‘I’m only here because Carol and her Karen Committee kept muttering about me not being at the last one.’

‘Yeah, same here. I was attending an emergency meeting about nuclear arms in Vienna, but I guess this is more important.’

‘I was...’ in court, signing documents to end my marriage, ‘otherwise occupied too.’

Marcus nodded in understanding. ‘Kids alone are a full time job, huh? ‘Specially when you’re the only one who’s running around after them.’

He knew about your situation and in return, figured that you knew about his. He’d heard the whispers about the divorce and presumed that the loss of his wife had been subject to similar gossip. The environment amongst the parents was shockingly similar to high school and things got around pretty quickly. You both hated it, especially given the nature of both your circumstances; death and separation was not something other people should have been talking about. Especially when you all you wanted to do was mind your own business and raise your damn (chaotic) kid.

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ You replied. ‘My kid is like...a baby crackhead, as well. He’s been sent home twice this week and it’s only Wednesday.’

‘Oh, Jack’s your kid?’

You let out a groan, holding your face in your hands. ‘Yeah. Famously so, apparently.’

‘No, it’s not a bad thing!’ Marcus chuckled, pulling your hands away. ‘He played a brilliant baby Jesus in the Nativity last year.’

‘Aside from when he bit one of the three wise men, yeah.’ You could feel your cheeks heating up. ‘Missy actually helped him once. She seems really...not at all like my child. Which is good.’

‘She told me about the fence incident.’ He nodded. ‘May I ask why he was shoving his head out of the school gates?’

‘He saw an interesting looking slug.’ You replied.

Your conversation was interrupted by Carol, who had now climbed up on stage. She tapped the microphone and cleared her throat, gesturing to everyone to sit down so that the meeting could start. You wanted to curse her. Whatever giddy conversation you were having with Marcus was a thousand times more interesting than the PTA. At least you could revel in the fact he didn’t want to be here either.

‘Shall we?’ Marcus gestured to two empty seats a few rows back.

‘I mean, it’s an aisle seat, which is good for a quick escape if Jack decides to be Jack,’ you nodded in agreement. ‘Hey kid, c’mon!’

Turning away from the other kids, Jack sprinted towards you, hurling himself into your lap as he sat down. You let out an oof! and a groan. He wasn’t as light as he used to be a toddler. He stayed still for a moment, tiny hands clasping yours, before he realised who you were sat next to. The kids’ impression of Marcus was not quite the same as yours - he’d only seen him on TV, with the likes of all the heroes. You couldn’t remember their names (but in your defence, they were kind of ridiculous). 

‘Are you a superhero?’ He reached up, poking Marcus in the cheek. 

‘Jack!’ You hissed. ‘You can’t-’

‘- yeah, buddy.’ Marcus ruffled his hair. ‘But it’s my day off today, so I’m doing all this boring stuff instead.’

‘Can you fly? Do you know Miracle Guy? Have you fought aliens? Do you have a super suit? Do you know Iron Man? Wait! Can I be a superhero?!’

‘No, yes, yes, no, no and maybe when you’re older.’ He counted the questions off on his fingers. ‘But for now we have to keep quiet for the meeting. That would make you a superhero.’

--

You wanted to marry Marcus Moreno.

Seriously, you wanted to marry him.

His little comment had kept Jack quiet the entire meeting. And it was a long fucking meeting indeed. The last time he’d shut up for that long was...probably before he learnt to talk. You loved he was full of curiosity and questions, but he didn’t always understand that there was a time and a place. At least now you knew what would shut him up. 

‘How does Miracle Guy fly? Is Batman real? Are you rich? Do you know Wonder Woman? How does her lasso of truth work?’

‘Jack.’ You groaned. 

You were walking out of the school now and down towards the car park. Missy was in tow, tapping away on her phone, whilst Jack trotted alongside you and Marcus. He’d been spewing questions at the poor man pretty much since the meeting had ended - and yet, he seemed happy to answer them. Excited, even. It was clear that he loved his job.

‘You gotta give Mr Moreno a break, little man.’ You said.

‘Hey, just Marcus is fine.’ He replied. 

‘Hey Just Marcus, I’m dad.’ Missy chimed from beside you, not even looking up from her phone. It was...impressive, actually.

‘I already regret buying her that.’ Marcus murmured. 

The two of you eventually reached your cars. The Civic was still terribly parked across two spaces - you were a good driver, you’d just been in a rush. The dents and scrapes all over the doors and bumper implied other wise but hey, we move. You had a thousand and one other things to save up before a new car. Putting down the deposit on a house - one you could actually own, maybe a little further out from the city - was your number one concern. Paying off your divorce attorney came after that. 

‘It was nice to meet you properly.’ You pulled your keys out your back, tugging four empty packets of crisps and three bags of gummy worms with it. 

‘I’m not done asking questions-’

‘- you gotta let Marcus go, JJ.’ You peered down at Jack. ‘Sorry. He’s a little obsessed with the Heroics, but I guess you’ve worked that one out.’

‘Can I visit your base?’ He continued, ignoring you. 

Marcus knelt down to his height, a grin on his face. ‘I’ve got a free window tomorrow afternoon. You wanna come by? Your mum tells me you’re off school for the rest of the week.’ 

‘Really?’ You blinked in surprise. ‘I mean, I’m sure he would love that but I’m at work and he’s gotta go to my mum’s.’

Your mother also doubled up as your baby-sitter. In an ideal world, you would have been able to afford a professional, but this was very much the opposite of an ideal world. It was the real world, and you were constantly juggling a thousand things at once. Never in a million years would you have changed it but there were days when you wanted to cry. When it was 9PM and Jack suddenly chimed in that he had a science project due the next day, or when he refused to eat his dinner because his chicken nuggets weren’t shaped like dinosaurs and fed them to the dog. 

Marcus looked, on the surface at least, like he had his shit together. He worked in a public facing job and he always looked put together. His car wasn’t covered in bumps and bruises and the inside probably wasn’t covered in yoghurt like yours. He seemed as though he got more than five hours sleep a night and his child was well-behaved. 

‘I’m sure we can work something out.’ He said. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Uh, yeah! Of course.’ He’d asked for your number. No big deal. 

You switched phones - naturally, his was much more high-tech than yours - and entered in your respective numbers. The whole thing made you admire Marcus even more; he didn’t have to have your tyrannical son over to his office, yet he offered to. He’d clearly seen how excited he’d gotten and it seemed like he’d found it endearing. 

‘Are you okay?’ Marcus asked quietly, suddenly putting his hand on your shoulder. ‘You suddenly zoned out.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘I got about three hours sleep last night. I would blame it on the terrible twos but I guess it’s the...fucking awful fives?’

He quickly turned his attention to Jack, opening the car door for him. ‘You wanna hop in? I’m just gonna talk to your mom about you visiting, yeah?’

'There’s Cheetos in the centre console!’ You called after him.

Once Marcus had shut the door, he turned around to face you. There was silence for a minute, and he just kind of...stared at you. You couldn’t read his expression or quite figure it out, but he had an eyebrow quirked and a look of...concern? Sympathy?

‘I recognise that look. It’s the help! I’m suddenly a single parent to a five year old and it feels like the world is eating me alive look.’ He said. ‘It’s the exact same one I had six years ago. Missy was about Jack’s age when...when it became just me and her.’

You softly smiled. ‘It’s not been easy.’

‘You’re doing a good job, okay?’ He gave your shoulder a light squeeze. ‘And if you ever need him off your hands for a few hours, I’ll gladly give him a tour of our headquarters.’

‘Thank you. So much, for both of those things.’ Your eyes fell to the ground. ‘It’s a refreshing change from Carol and her Pinterest boards and half-assed invitations to potlucks.’

‘God, I can’t stand all that.’ Marcus chuckled. 

‘I gotta get back now because I can see that Jack is about smush Cheetos over my break pedals but I’ll...’ you trailed off, forcing yourself to look at him and smile. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I look forward to it.’ 

[sashi-ya]

Ch. 4 ~ NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Maid! Reader ~ A Dangerous Attraction.

AU : Mafia AU. Mafia boss Law. He IS a murderer.

TW: BLOOD. Mafia & murderers. Graphic depictions of violence. Smut. Explicit. Making love. Vaginal sex. Impregnation. Self harm. Marks, bites. Mental health issues. Trauma. Fluff. Angst.

WC: 4.2K

Chapters: one ; two; three; four; five; final

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33273136

Tag list: @rivvd-art ; @chocokaylarobin ; @fantasyfairysworld ♥

“Law!!”

“Name-ya…”

Inked fingers squeezing around your wrist, your body hanging into the void. You try to climb, but little rocks fall every time you try to use your feet to push yourself up. The desperation and Law is simply not moving, he is just holding you. If he wanted, he could let go of you and you would fall instantly. If he wanted, he could kill you and no one would know. If he wanted…

“Law! Pull me up!” you shout, with tears in your eyes. He is not listening; Law is completely frozen. His eyes opened wide; he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. His jaw muscles are clenched. Your arm hurts, the only thing that is keeping you alive is Law grabbing you.

“Law don’t let me fall. Save me…” you beg with tears sprouting from your eyes. “LAW!!!” you shout. The time passes so slowly, so painfully scary.

Suddenly he blinks quickly and pushes you up. Your body falls over his, you are safe now. Law hugs you; he starts crying. Your head rests over his chest, but quickly try to release yourself from his arms. “Let me go!” you shout, in distress.

Law stops hugging you and you stand up, trembling, still crying. You take your hand to your wrist, massaging the fingertips marks he has left over your skin. “I’m… you don’t understand. I didn’t…” he tries to tell you, but he fails as he stutters nervously.

“I wanna go home. My home” you tell him and start walking back through the path. You almost run; you can feel him walking behind you. Law is sobbing, he can’t stop crying. You hear some scratching noises, but you decide not to look back. If you dared to even look at him, you’ll pity him and forgive what just happened.

But something stops you, you hear a loud noise and a whining. A painful whining. You turn around, and there is Law, kneeling on the ground, right arm bleeding from the scratches he has made on himself, swollen eyes from all the crying. He keeps violently scratching his skin, and he can’t stop.

“What the hell?!” you shout and run to him. You crunch next to him and grab his arm, “Stop doing that. You are hurting yourself”. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…” he says repeatedly. “Stop, please. You are bleeding” you tell him, holding his arm. He puts his forehead over your chest imploring forgiveness. Your shirt gets damp by his tears. A mafia boss crying like this, so weak…

“Why didn’t you pull me up instantly, Law?” you ask all of a sudden. You know that whatever he says won’t stop you from running away from him, but that question escapes your mouth unintentionally. “I… I’m… my dad. My uncle…” he stutters. “What happened?” you ask. “My uncle… killed my dad. Doflamingo pushed him by the same hill. I was in the car looking at everything. My uncle said my dad slipped away because he was clumsy, but he didn’t. He pushed him. And I saw everything. And didn’t say anything, I was afraid. My… dad…I was seven”. And suddenly everything makes sense… he was facing his trauma, but he never let you fall. He saved you… once again.

You hug him so close, poor thing. You caress his black hair, rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok, it’s ok…” you repeat. A few minutes after he stops crying, “I’m sorry” he says, nuzzled on your chest.

“It’s ok, Law…”

But you can’t take this anymore. You are going to end up dying if you stay next to him. You definitely are.

Both walk back to the cabin, you start packing your stuff leaving only the maid costume over the big, still undone, bed. Sitting on the mattress you take out the photo of your family and look at it. In the photo you see your sisters, your mom and you in your father’s arms. It’s your birthday. Behind, a tall man running with a little boy wearing a white hat. You don’t really remember their faces. You only remember that man was your father’s partner. Both policemen. They were fighting against organised crime. After your dad was shot, you never hear anything else from his partner, nor the little kid. But you keep focusing on your family, and those happy times. You were smiling so joyfully, so naive…

You hear the surgeon at the door, and quickly put the photo on your pocket. There is no way you let a mafia boss see the face of your family members. It’s just too risky...

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” asks Law, now with a white bandage around his scratched arm. “I am sure, please take me back to my apartment” you tell him. “(Name)-ya, please, stay at my house. I promise I won’t talk to you” he says, tears building up in his eyes. But you remain strong. “Please…I need time to be on my own” you tell him as if you were begging him to stop insisting. You don’t know how much you are gonna go without succumbing to the dangerous attraction he represents to you.

“At least let me keep you safe, I won’t visit you, I won’t call you. But please, stay in one of my apartments. I beg you” he finally says, approaching you. You back up instantly, somehow him touching you, scares you.

“Fine” you finally accept. He is right, if you dare to come back to that apartment you might be in danger. Law eyes sparkle, he breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you so much” he says, approaching you once again as he was trying to hug you.

“Stop. Don’t touch me” you command. He freezes right away, the smile in his face is gone once again. “I’m sorry, I’ll be in the car waiting for you” he says, crestfallen and walks away. Your heart aches at him leaving the door, but you know too well this is the best decision you could have taken.

Once everything is set, and you are ready, you go downstairs. You give a last peek to the cabin, the place where Law and you let your passions go wild for the first time… a place where he almost chokes you to death… Closing the door behind you, you were sure this was the last time you would ever be in this place.

Opening the door of that amazing black car, you throw your bag on the backseat and sit next to Law. He is wearing black shades, tears falling through his cheeks. He is not speaking; he swallows and hits the gas. You don’t dare to look at him, so your head is turned towards the window. The magnificent forest, nature, a place where you’ve been the happiest… and the sudden memories of you almost losing your life for the second time…

No more than an hour passes, and you are already on the highway. The radio makes the painful silence a little less uncomfortable. A slowed cover of “We Found Love” by Rihanna playing.

“As your shadow crosses mine, what it takes to come alive.

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny. But I've gotta let it go.

We found love in a hopeless place…

Shine a light through an open door. Love and life I will divide.

Turn away 'cause I need you more”

“Tsk…” you express. “Hum?” he asks. “Nothing…”. There was no interaction, nothing. Law’s cheeks damped. Nose red from all the crying.

“(Name)-ya… would you prefer the 6th or the 8th floor?” he asks, sniffling. “Whatever you want, it’s ok for me either way” you tell him, feeling ashamed. You are leaving him, but still living on his property… this shouldn’t happen. “Ok… Then the 8th floor. It has a big terrace” he tells you and touches the screen of the car.

“Bepo, Law here”

“Law, I’m Pen. Tell me”

“Oh, Penguin. Please take all the (Name)-ya’s stuff to Swallow inns, the eighth floor”.

“Yes, boss. Are you ok? You need us to take some of your stuff too?”

“Just hers… oh, don’t forget the Kia”

Law hangs up before his friend could say anything else. His voice clearly shows how much he’s been crying; he knows his friend would ask. You simply ignore everything he says, you don’t really want to hear even though he is speaking via Bluetooth.

After two hours, you arrive at a luxurious apartment complex over the beach. A big sign that says “Swallow Inn” announces that this is the place you are gonna be living from now on. “Damn” you think, how the fuck your life changed so much that you ended up living in such a place…

“(Name)-ya, this is the place where the apartment is located. Our… your parking spot is the number 18” he informs you. “Uhm, ok…” you say, because you don’t even have a bicycle to park in there, but hey, thanks for the information. But, when you arrive at the said parking spot, a little black car is parked there. “Nice, someone parked on your spot” you say, sarcastically.

“It’s yours…” he says. “What? No” you categorically express. “Please, accept it. This place is far from the city, and there are no bus stops nearby. Please” he insists. “Ok…” you accept, even though you are sure you are not gonna use that car.

Law takes your stuff from the backseat and tells you to follow him inside. The place is modern, everything is clean, luxurious, white, pure. “Eighth floor” he says and presses the little 8th button of the elevator and a code. “Remember, you should enter this number so you can enter home, ok?”. You don’t speak, and just nod.

The doors open inside the apartment, again everything is so white and pure. Your stuff is already in place. Big windows show the immense sea ahead. Everything is perfect, so for rich people. “Law, this place is amazing. You sure you want me to live here?” you ask.

Law turns around, takes his sunglasses off. Swollen red eyes, more dark circles than ever. He fixes his grey irises on yours. “I’d rather you live with me. But this is the best second option I have to keep you safe”. You keep looking at him, you can’t take your eyes off him. It hurts so much, even more than the bruises on your wrist, on your neck… your heart shouts “stay with me”; but your head says no… no, or you are gonna end up dying.

“By the way, this is your phone. I recommend you use this one, it’s safer. Not for me, but for you” he says, lending you a mobile phone that’s over the breakfast nook. “Thanks” you nod and your fingers graze when gabbing the phone. How hard is this…

“Well, I know you want me to go, but, if you ever need me… just, call me. Ok?” says Law, taking his hand to your cheek, but quickly stopping himself. “Wait” you say and grab his hand to your face. He gasps but grazes your skin. You close your eyes and let your head rest over his palm for a moment.

“Thank you, Law… Give me some time, please” you whisper. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he says, and a few moments later he is gone. The elevator doors close, and your legs finally turn weak. You fall on your knees. You haven’t cried until now, and now you do. Tears won’t stop falling from your eyes to the marbled floor.

“Law…”

----

After all your tears have dry, you start looking around the apartment. Your bedroom is bigger than your ex-house. The bed looks just as the one Law has in his room. Satin sheets and white fluffy covers.

A wardrobe full of your clothes, old and some new outfits they bought you from the finest brands. And next to your clothes, men's ones. “Are these Law’s?”.

You can’t help but take one of his t shirts. You choose a yellow one, with black sleeves. “It has his smell…” you say, while taking the cloth to your nose. “I don’t think he would mind if I use it…” you say and put the shirt on. It has some kind of a smiley face stamped on it, and you wonder what it means.

The night comes, and your stomach growls. The fridge is full of ingredients, Law’s subordinates are so efficient. You cook a vegetable wok that you devour right away. The place is way too big for you, but it is what it is.

You inspect the new phone he gave you, such modern and pretty. You decide to pass all your photos from your old one to it. Same as the numbers. “I should call mum…” you think, remembering about the money. Where are you going to find any money to send them? “I can’t go back to the old bar; I’ll search for work tomorrow”.

“Hi, mum?”

“Darling!! I’ve been calling you, but you don’t seem to pick up. Is everything alright? Why are you calling from a private number?”

“It’s my new phone, I don’t know how to take it off. I will ask a friend to help me, and I’ll send you my number mum. Don’t worry” you lie. “How are you? How are the girls?

“Fine baby, but are you alright? You sound so sad…”

“I’m fine mum!! I moved! I will send you the address via text, ok? You should come someday! I have a sea view now!!” You act all excited, just for her not to worry, but moms know better…

“If you need mum, come spend some days with us darling. Ok?”

“Yes mum, I’m ok. I’ll be visiting you soon!” You lie once again, choking back tears.

The conversation is soon over, and after hanging up, tears run free. “I hate lying to my mum. Damn it. Damn Law…” you grunt, while searching for the picture of your family on your pocket.

“Where the fuck…?” You say, while searching for it desperately in your jean’s pockets. No sign of the photo, and you start to panic. The last photo you have with your dad, your seventh birthday…

“Don’t tell me I lost it, please!!!” You shout and start to look for it everywhere. Every place, every square. You can’t stop crying. You just can’t… something so precious to you.

“That’s what happens when you hang with the mafia… karma” you tell yourself before falling asleep, crying.

You wake up several times during the night, as nightmares invade your dreams. Law’s scratched arms, his eyes, the feeling of falling into the void. The day the police came to your house to tell your family, someone killed your dad. The way Law choked you… the way his hands were around your neck, the way his hips moved in and out of you, the way his kisses make you feel…

“Stop right there, (Name)” you say to yourself looking at the ceiling. How can you feel horny, huh? Are you crazy? “What’s wrong with me…?”. You know what’s wrong, of course you do. You are in love with Law and can’t deny it anymore. Your body misses him, you miss his scent, you are using his damn shirt to bed. You miss him so much; you are hugging a pillow pretending it is him.

Standing up from bed, you look through the big window of your room. The sea seems calm, sun is peeking from the horizon, still lazily resting until dawn. You sigh and say, “I fucking miss you… why aren’t you here?”.

Ding, Dong…

The sophisticated sound of the doorbell resonates all over the loft. “Fuck” you think, they’ve found you… Am I in danger? Should I call Law? Bepo? You tremble and walk towards the intercom.

Ding, Dong…

“Fuck” … you slowly pick up the phone of the intercom, and the little screen next to it turns on. The image of Law, a distressed Law appears. “What the fuck? I told him to give me some space…” you think, but he signs desperately for you to open.

“Law, what are you doing here?” You ask via the phone.

“Open, please, I have something important to show and tell you, I didn’t want to enter with my code” he says and shows a little square paper. Your most precious treasure, your family photo. You widen your eyes, “enter the code, come on”.

A minute passes and the door of the inside elevator opens. Law is standing right there; he looks like a mess. This must be the third night he hasn’t slept.

“Can I?” He asks for permission to even step into your -his- apartment. “Come in. Do you have my pic?” You ask ignoring the fact of wearing his shirt and only that over your body.

“Yes, but… I need to show you something about it” Law says, while looking at you up and down with a sweet expression. “Let’s sit, this is important” he insists. So, both of you sit on the couch. Law takes your photo out of his jacket pocket and puts it over the coffee table. “This is your photo, right?” He asks. “Yes, thank you!! Where was it?” You tell, but before you could take it, he stops your arm. “Wait… it was over the car seat. But, please, look at this…” he says and puts another photo next to it.

“L-Law…”

“I didn’t know, I promise”

“It can’t be, was your dad…?

“Yes, it was” …

Both of you start crying, recognizing how linked both of you are…

Law takes his finger to your cheek, wiping a single tear. You do the same, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “Don’t…” you tell him, and you two hug. Pressing your bodies, you find the comfort, the warmth of home. That feeling you only experience when you know you are safe…

Your faces so close, your eyes fixed. The sun slowly rising, invading the place with lilac and orangey tones. Law is fighting not to kiss you, and you frankly too.

“Fuck it” you whisper and plant a sweet kiss over his lips. And that’s the spark you two needed to become fire. You set all your zipper free, no more clothes. You sit over his lap, both kissing so passionately, tongues playing with each other’s. Law cries, you cry. But you two smile pressing your foreheads.

You see how the scratches on his arm became scars already. You grab his arm and kiss softly over each wound. “Don’t do this ever again, please. If you have the need, talk to me, tell me, I’ll be there to help you…” you tell him, looking straight into his soul. Poor thing…

“I missed you” he says. “I missed you, too” you tell him. Even if you haven’t seen each other for some hours, your souls missed each other so much. You kiss him so relieved… your head keeps telling you stop, until the arousal drowns every single sign of reason.

Law gabs your thighs and stands up, carrying you to the bed. He softly puts you over the mattress, and he settles over your body. Gently kissing your neck, Law takes his time. His hands grazing your breasts so softly. “I want to make sweet love to you, I want to be gentle, I want it slow” he says, because he doesn’t want to hurt you. You smile and take your hands to his face. “Do it slow and do it faster. Do it gentle, and do it rough…make love to me, Law” you tell him.

His “death” hands travel from your neck to your waist, and even lower. His fingers buried on your hips as his mouth reaches your sex. “Spread, babe” he asks with a soft tone. You do it right away. “Good girl, now put your legs over my shoulders”. And so, you do.

Law’s mouth attacks your core, licking, tasting, devouring your juices. He little by little kneels on the bed, pushing you up. Your legs are still over his shoulders, he has better access to your core as he keeps giving you the best oral sex you ever experienced. You grab the sheets, pull from them, as your climax begins to arrive. Law presses your lower belly, while he sucks your clit. “Come on, come for me” he says, muzzled by your anatomy.

You are about to burst, and Law penetrates you with his middle finger and ring finger. The licking, the pressure, the fingering… you come, squirting, bathing his whole torso with your juices, as they come out with such pressure Law is not able to receive it all with his mouth.

“Such a good girl” he says, letting your legs over the mattress. You are panting, that position somehow made everything better… “L-Law…?” you mumble, still trembling from the orgasm you just had.

“What, baby?” He asks while wiping the rest of your climax off his chin with the back of his hand. “Don’t you ever stop fucking me like this” you tell him, so naturally, so unplanned.

“I won't, I won't ever stop”.

Law lays in bed, next to him, enjoying how you come back to normal, and the blushed on your cheeks that screams how good your orgasm felt. But he wants more, and of course, you too.

“Come here” he says and helps you to turn around. He is spooning you; you feel his hard member over your glutes. Law passes his right arm under your neck, and the left one reaches your left nipple. He pinches it, twists it. Law takes his index to your mouth and makes you suck it. “Wet it real good” he commands. Your teeth graze the E tattooed on his finger while sucking it so sexily.

The same finger, shiny from your saliva, is now tracing circles again over your nipple. You moan, it feels so good. He gropes you with his dick, your back feels the warmth of his inked chest. You push your ass against his member, trapping it in between both cheeks. Law grunts, and moves up and down, frotting his hard shaft over your rear entrance.

Your hand reaches for the surgeon’s hip. You carve your nails on his skin, pulling you even closer to you.

“Fuck me, fuck me now”. “If that’s what you want…” he says, while he bites your neck. The hand that was playing with your nipple now grabs his dick. He aligns it with your entrance, lubricating the tip with your dripping arousal. He slaps the shaft against your labia, forming strings of precum mixed with your juices.

His gland playfully hits your clit, and you squirm with it. But you burn with the need of being penetrated, filled by him. “I want you inside, please” you beg. “You want me inside? How much do you want it?” Law says pressing his mouth against your cheek, his beard grazing your skin. “Fill me up, I want it so bad. Fuck me, now…” you whine.

“Ok, my darling. Just because my shirt suits you so well” he says and kissing the side of your mouth he penetrates you so slow, little by little stretching your walls. The feeling of the tip going in and out, without fully penetrating you deep, sends you to heaven as it grazes your g spot. You can only whine his name, feeling as he gradually goes deeper, in and out.

You can feel Law’s wicked smile over your cheek as he finally penetrates you to the deepest point he can reach. Your walls clench around his member as he speeds up the pace. “Babe, you feel so good, so tight” he moans in your ear. The sound of his voice could kill you if it was meant for it.

You moan soundly, sure the neighbours could hear you, but unable to hold back as Law is now fucking you mercilessly. Soon the climax road is taken, and you are sure getting to it.

“I want to see your face while you come” Law says, and quickly turns you around. Classic missionary position, the most perfect man over you, his whole anatomy, sweating, panting.

Law puts your arms up your head, grabbing your wrists together. His body lean over you while he pounds into you, violent, deliciously thrusts. The way the muscles of his torso tightens when his hips move in and out are art, the finest piece of art you have ever seen.

And inevitably, both of you reach orgasms. This time, Law focused on your face, he didn’t bite his lip, he didn’t choke you, he didn’t lose track of reality. Law this time was being driven by love, by the only need of loving you, of making you happy… of not losing you.

You come, and so does he. Law fills you with his creamy seed. He collapses over you, still with his dick inside you, pushing his milk deep in you. Returning his breathing back to normal, he whispers into your ear “I think I’m still in love with you”.

“Still? What do you mean?” You ask, confused...

CH.5

[bibbawrites]

First Man - Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 1735 words 

Summary: the song First Man by Camila Cabello but make it about Charlie Gillespie

Warnings: i think theres one swear word and thats all ?

A/N: so i had originally written this for another fandom that i am no longer in but i decided to change it to charlie cause why not  this is literally just the song first man by camila cabello, so go listen to that if you dont know it haha  again i tried to make this gender neutral but i may have messed up at one point so if i did im very sorry  anyways hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals​ @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik

Winter 2019

It was a mild Winter's afternoon in LA. You walked down the stairs of your family home, bag in hand, smiling when you spotted your family sitting around the table, a board game in the middle.

"Y/N! Come join us!" Your mum called when she spotted you enter the room. You shook your head.

"Maybe another time, sorry guys. I'm actually just heading out, I'm gonna stay with Charlie tonight... is that okay?" Your father sighed before nodding.

"When will we get to meet this Charlie boy that we hear so much about?" He asked, standing up to walk over to you. You shrugged.

"I'm not too sure, but it will be soon, I promise." You grinned. Your little sister looked up from the game board.

"What's he like Y/N?" She asked, looking at you intently. A soft smile appeared on your face at the thought of your boyfriend.

"He's really sweet. He's funny, just like you Dad. He’s not super tall but it doesn’t even matter. And he loves dragging me along on hikes." You paused.

"I really like him." You finished. Your dad frowned slightly, but hid it quickly.

"That's nice to hear darling. Don't forget a jacket, okay?" He told you. You looked at your father knowingly. He had been like this with every boy you’d ever brought home, not that you'd brought home tons of boys before.

"No it's okay, it’s not that cold outside today. Besides, he's waiting outside for me." You said, glancing down at your phone to see the text from Charlie.

'I'm here' it read. You looked back up again, noticing your father watching you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug.

"Don't freak out Dad, I'll be fine." You assured him. He squeezed you tightly.

"I just worry about you." You smiled, pulling away.

"I know, I get that. But I'm an adult now Dad. I got this."

"I know, I know." He sighed. By now the rest of the family had gone back to their game.

You patted your dad on the chest before turning to leave, stopping when your hand touched the doorknob. You turned back around to face your father.

"Just remember Dad, you were the first man that really loved me." And with that you turned back to the door and left, leaving your dad to smile sadly. His little baby was growing up.

 Summer 2020

It was Summer and you and Charlie had a few days off from work. You had decided to head back to LA together, to visit your family. After all, you had been dating for over a year and Charlie still hadn't met your family yet. The family that you spoke so highly of.

You touched down at LAX and made your way through security quickly.

"You ready?" You asked, holding tightly to Charlie's hand as you made your way to baggage claim, where you had organised to meet your parents.

"Honestly? I'm fucking petrified." Charlie responded, causing you to laugh.

"You'll be fine. Everyone loves you Char, and my family will be no different." You walked around the corner, spotting your Dad quickly.

"Dad!" You called, rushing over to hug your father. Charlie walked over slowly. You pulled away and grinned, glancing at Charlie.

"Dad, I'd like to meet my boyfriend, Charlie." You introduced. "Char, this is my dad, Sam."

Charlie held his hand out for your dad to shake.

"It's nice to officially meet you Mr Y/L/N. Can I call you Sam?" He smiled nervously. Your father looked him up and down before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Sir will do. Charlie, short for Charles I assume?" His glare was stone cold. Charlie swallowed, nodding.

"Yes sir, but I prefer Charlie." Your father nodded before turning his attention back to you.

"How long are you two here for?" He asked, ignoring Charlie, who moved to grab the both of your bags that were coming along the carousel.

"We have 8 days off, but we're only here for 4." You responded. Your dad nodded.

"Well I guess that's better than nothing. Come on let's go, your mother is waiting in the car outside. She didn't want to pay for parking so she's been driving around while I waited in here."

And with that the three of you headed outside to the car.

 Luckily for Charlie the rest of your family weren't as scary as your father was.

Your mother was lovely, and she had been very welcoming, even speaking to him in French when it was brought up that the two shared a common language.

Your brothers were really cool and invited him to join them to play video games whenever he wanted.

And your little sister, well, she adored the Canadian boy from the minute he walked through the front door.

And just like that Charlie’s first day at the Y/L/N house was over.

After sitting outside for hours with you and your parents, Charlie decided to head off to bed, and with a quick kiss for you and a murmured "goodnight" he was gone.

"So what do you think?" You asked once you knew that Charlie was well and truly inside.

"He's lovely darling." Your mother told you, smiling. You turned to your father.

"Dad?" You asked. Your father shrugged.

"He's not too bad, I guess." He admitted. You shook your head slightly. Of course your father would say that.

"I met his family you know? They're really nice, just like you guys." You told your parents.

"Oh, that's good sweetie." Your mum grinned.

"His parents are great, they're really down to earth. And his brothers and sister are really cool. Plus they love their hockey." You looked at your dad as you said the last part, knowing how big of a hockey fan he was. Your dad nodded in appreciation.

"That's good to hear. If they like hockey they must be good people." Your mother nodded in agreement with her husband. You fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

"You know..." You began, breaking the silence. "I think he might be the one." Your mother put her hand up to her mouth, unable to hide her excitement.

"Oh Y/N, you really think so?" She asked. You nodded.

"Yeah, I really love him." You smiled.

"And he's a good man?" Your dad questioned, fixing his gaze on you. You nodded quickly.

"I swear on my heart. He loves me, and he'd never hurt me." You assured him.

"Good." He said, and with that the conversation was over, the topic changing to gossip about a family friend who's husband had cheated on her.

And later when you were heading off to bed you made sure to give your dad an extra big hug and remind him softly that he was the first man that really loved you.

 The four days passed quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time for you and Charlie to leave.

Your family gathered on the driveway, next to Charlie’s car that he had collected on your second day back. After a few hugs with your siblings Charlie moved to bid farewell to your parents. Your mother pulled him into a hug.

"It was lovely to meet you darling." She said softly, before pulling away.

"You too." He smiled. "It was lovely to meet all of you."

"Don't be a stranger Charlie." She said.

"Yeah come back all the time." Your little sister agreed. Charlie nodded.

"I'll make sure of it." He turned his attention to your father, holding out his hand for him to shake. Your father took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you for having me sir." Charlie smiled politely. Your father paused, before faking a smile.

"It was no problem." You exchanged a knowing look with your mother. You both knew that your father didn't think that Charlie deserved you.

After a few more goodbyes you and Charlie hopped into the car and left, waving to your family as you pulled out. You had barely made it to the end of the street before you grabbed Charlie's arm.

"Wait we need to go back." You said quickly.

"Why?" Charlie asked, but turned around nonetheless.

"I forgot to tell my dad something." He pulled up in front of the house and you jumped out quickly, rushing over to your father who was still outside. He looked at you in confusion.

"I forgot to say, remember you were the first man who really loved me." You smiled softly, and with one last hug you left again.

 Spring 2022

It was a beautiful Spring day in Hawaii. You and your father were stood together at the top of the beach, dressed to the nines, him in a fancy suit and you in your chosen wedding outfit.

It was almost time.

Time for you to walk down the aisle and marry the love of your life.

You looked over at your father, noticing his tie was slightly crooked. You took a step closer, and fixed the tie, watching as he tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. You smiled softly at him.  

"You know, I've never seen you cry before." You whispered. Your dad smiled, a tear falling down his cheek.

"You just look so beautiful Y/N. No matter what, you'll always be my little baby." He responded, pulling you into a hug.

As you separated the music began to play, and he held his arm out for you to take.

"Here we go." You whispered, and the two of you began your walk down the beach to where Charlie was waiting, teary eyed, at the end of the aisle.

As you walked, your father found himself looking over at you, taking in the tears of happiness and the look of love that you were giving Charlie. Your dad smiled to himself, glad that you had finally found the perfect man for you.

You reached the end of the aisle and you pulled your father into a hug.

"Remember," You whispered. "You were the first man who really loved me." You pulled away, stepping back. Your dad hesitated for a second before stepping forward to pull Charlie into a hug.

"Take care of my little angel." He whispered. Charlie nodded.

"Of course Sir." They pulled apart and your dad smiled softly.

"You can call me Sam."

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 8

TW: None

Words Count: 1.9k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 9

You’re deeply immersed in your own thought that morning at your desk. There’s a whole two weeks before Jimin’s birthday, but since you currently have no idea at all on what to do, you can’t help feeling restless.

“-and since it’s our seventh year anniversary, I was thinking of doing something special, you know? I even thought of buying a new dress just to celebrate it!” You snap out of your reverie, finally tuning back to Irene who had been telling about her boyfriend who she had been dating since college.

“That’s so cute.” You say sincerely to her, briefly wondering if you can have the same kind of happiness too.

She giggles. “Thank you, Y/N.” She draws her breath. “What about you? You don’t have a boyfriend yet?”

You blink several times hearing her question. “Uh- uhh, yeah no.” You’re probably the worst liar ever. You look back down at the file of Jimin’s schedule that you’ve been studying in order for you to make a summary. Something had been bothering you that you’ve been meaning to ask Irene for a while now.

“Eyy~ I’m pretty sure you have one-“

“Hey, Irene can I ask you something?” You cut her off.

“Yeah?” She looks down at the file you’re looking at, reads it for a few seconds before continuing. “Ah~ You must’ve noticed that.”

Clara Kim. The name that would pop on Jimin’s schedule every week without fail. Yet you’ve no idea who she is, what she does and why does he sees her every week. “Who is she?”

Irene looks around as if there would be anyone in close proximity that can hear you before leaning in and whispers to you. “She’s.. Mr. Park’s girlfriend.”

Girl-what? Your eyes feel like it’s going to bulge out of its socket.

Irene laughs a little seeing your expression. “Don’t look at me like that! What, are you sad now thinking our handsome president’s taken?” She chuckles.

“But-“ you rack your brain. Wasn’t his marriage a public affair? Although his wife isn’t disclosed, his employees should’ve known the boss’s status, shouldn’t they? “Isn’t he married?”

She scoffs. “You think he can’t have both at the same time?” She shrugs. “He’s young, rich and definitely good looking. You think he’s gonna just stick to his wife when so many girls are after his ass?”

You lose words to say. His girlfriend? Why would he marry you then? “You don’t think that’s his wife?” Although she obviously isn’t.

She chuckles. “Girl, would meeting his wife be part of his schedule?” You suddenly feel stupid. “I only see her once or twice so far now although I’ve been working here for a long time, and she really doesn’t look like someone’s wife for the record, and he sees her every week without fail. All tall and skinny like a model, big tits big ass long black hair like a vixen ugh. But,” she shrugs, “I don’t know. Mr. Park never says anything about her so it must be really private. If you see here, she usually comes every Friday at night, after we’ve gone back.”

There’s a twist in your heart that you do not wish to know the reason why. You remain silent after that and Irene leaves you to your own devices as well as your thoughts.

You were just organising your table before you go out to lunch when Minhyuk calls you to his office. You glance at Jimin’s office, he’s still locked up in it and you know he haven’t had his lunch yet so you planned to order take outs for the both of you. You sigh a little as you make your way to Minhyuk’s office.

There’s no one else in the office since everyone has gone out for lunch. A tinge of anxiety runs through your body. You have a bad feeling about this.

“Hey, Y/N. You going out for lunch? Mind if you grab take outs for me too?”

Oh. You smile politely. “Sure. What would you like?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

You nod then quickly heads downstairs and walks about a block away to find Subway. Packing lunch for three, you head straight back to the office. Slightly nervous, you head towards Jimin’s room first and knocks. He doesn’t answer. Perhaps he doesn’t hear you the first time?

So you knock again. Still no. Was he out? You didn’t see him come out though. Perhaps he’s walked out while you’re out ordering take outs. So you slowly let yourself in silently.

A huge mistake.

You stand at the threshold.

There he is, your husband. He’s sitting behind his desk and there’s a woman bent over him in a very seductive stance. She leans close to him, her fingers playing with his tie.

And you know immediately who she is. Fits perfectly by Irene’s descriptions. Clara Kim.

You don’t love him. But why do you feel your heart shattering into pieces?

Turn away, now.

Turn away before he notices you.

Yet you still stand there, frozen and unable to tear your eyes away.

And when his gaze suddenly flickers to you and your eyes widens that you find yourself turning on your heels instantly, food dropping to the floor.

He doesn’t owe you anything. He doesn’t owe you anything. He doesn’t owe you anything.

You chant those in your head as you run out, unsure of your own direction until a firm set of hands catch you.

You look up and gasps. Minhyuk is holding you by the arms. “Hey-hey. What’s wrong? Who dares to make you cry, little princess?”

You cringe at his nickname for you. Your hands quickly come up to wipe the tears you didn’t realise had fallen.

“I’m fine.” You give him a quick smile. “Just a moment, I’ll fetch you your lunch. I only got you Subway though. Are you okay with that?” You ask but you don’t wait for him to answer, quickly returning to your desk and fetching his lunch, unaware of him following you from behind.

When you turn, you find him right in front of you, leaning so close that you have to back away a little, making your behind bumps against the edge of the desk.

He smirks at your reaction and you feel your blood runs cold. He turns suddenly and you see him holding both yours and his lunch.

“You haven’t had your lunch yet right? Let’s eat together.”

And that’s how you find yourself sitting uncomfortably across Minhyuk’s table, your Subway laid cold in front of you.

“So, what’s up, princess? You wanna tell me what happened back there?”

You draw a breath. “Nothing happened.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “Really? Cause I know what I saw.” He says but earning no response from you, he continues, “Oh, come on.. just tell me. Too much workload? Or boyfriend problems..? You have.. a boyfriend, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitate before shaking your head slowly. “No, no I don’t.” But I do have a husband.

“So.. not a boyfriend problem then. You’re really tight lipped, huh?” He chuckles. “I just wanna be a good boss. You know, getting to know his employee, listening to their concerns.. all that. So you can find me. Anytime you want.”

You smile politely at him though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

There’s a knock on the door and you both turn to look at the same time. Your husband stands at the threshold and you immediately stiffen, freezing like a deer caught in headlights although you’ve done nothing wrong.

“Ah, Jimin! Come on in! We’re just having lunch together.” Minhyuk greets him.

Jimin doesn’t look at you when he answers Minhyuk. “I was gonna ask you out to lunch but it seems like you already have a date.” Deep down, you know that’s not true.

You stand almost instantly. “No, not at all Mr. Park. I’m actually done and Mr. Kim is all yours.” You pick up your lunch quickly and exits before Minhyuk could say anything and avoids any sort of eye contact with Jimin.

You don’t realise it was almost five in the evening as you’ve been so caught up in your own thoughts. For the first time in so long, you feel helpless. You sit down on your desk, feeling numb and empty.

Where are you supposed to go now? You sigh. When you reach home almost an hour later, you find yourself standing outside the door, just staring at it.

In the end, you’d still go back to his place.

In the end, he still owns you and you owe him everything.

With a heavy heart, you unlock the door and push it open. You take a long hot shower after that and you almost want to just climb in and curl on the bed once you’re dressed but you know you still have to prepare dinner for your husband so you come down and prepares his meal, trying your best not to break down while doing it.

Your heart thumps when you hear the front door opens. He doesn’t come straight to the kitchen so he must’ve went upstairs to shower. You swallow a huge lump in your throat. How much longer do you have to do this?

You knew you yourself signed up for this. A marriage without love. You dug your own grave out of desperation. So why does it feel so damn hurt seeing him with another woman?

You couldn’t contain the tears anymore and your vision goes blurry at once. For a few minutes, you just let the tears fall silently, without sobbing without weeping. Then you shut your eyes, take a deep breath then wipe the tears dry with the back of your hand.

Your assumption was right when he enters dining area half an hour later while you were setting up the table. You make a mistake of looking up at him because he looks so ridiculously gorgeous, always, even in his casual clothes that you find it so unfair. You look down immediately yet every nerve of yours is aware that Jimin’s staring at your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks, slight annoyance lacing his tone.

You swallow, not daring to meet his eyes then just shakes your head. “Nothing. I already ate and I’m a bit tired so I’ll head upstairs first. Just leave the dishes in the sink, I’ll wash it in the morning.”

“Are you feeling sick somewhere?” You hate that your heart flutters at the slight concern in his tone.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head and walks quickly upstairs. Try hard as you may, you ended up crying yourself to sleep. You don’t wish to because you don’t want Jimin catching you like this, but you did.

Jimin comes up about an hour later and crosses the room to stand in front of you where you appear already fast asleep. If he comes up even 5 minutes later, he might not be aware of it. Yet here he is, standing before your sleeping figure, aware that you cried yourself to sleep. What gave it away is your lashes that are still slightly wet and the tears that are almost dried on your cheeks.

Jimin’s a man of secret, private matters and nothing that exposes himself of the sort.

Yet with you, he feels exposed, barren and naked.

He sighs and bend down. “What do I do with you?” He whispers, his face close to yours, watching you for a few moments before he gets up and climbs on the bed next to you.

The next morning, when you wake up and heads down to the kitchen, you see dishes from last night were already washed clean by Jimin.

Link to Chapter 9

Posted on 210414 9:00PM

[havenoffandoms]

Just Fine (Aiden/Lambert)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses Prompt List

Read on Ao3

Prompt:  “Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Summary: 

Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Warnings: mention of amputation, modern AU

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Eskel smirks as he watches Lambert positively vibrating with excitement where he’s sat on a chair opposite Eskel. The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for another couple in the corner exchanging kisses and giggling carelessly as they rejoice in their puppy love. Lambert chose this place because it’s closest to the airport, but admittedly the place isn’t half-bad and the coffee doesn’t taste like piss.

“Stop that, it’s creepy,” Lambert grouses as he stuffs another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. When he notices Eskel’s confused frown, Lambert rolls his eyes and adds pointedly, “you, being all excited on my behalf. That’s unnatural. Stop it.”

“Whatever.” Eskel takes a sip of his tea - because Eskel is the kind of person who likes to drink tea for fun - before levelling Lambert with a look that the latter knows all too well. “You’re allowed to be excited about his return, you know? It’s been a year since he-”

“I know,” Lambert quickly interrupts before Eskel has a chance to finish his sentence, “I am excited.”

“Tell your face, then.”

“Shut up, prick.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Lambert.” Eskel reaches across the table to squeeze Lambert’s clammy hand. “I know you’re worried because of his injury, but you’ll both figure it out together. You don’t love him any less for it, right?”

“Of course not,” Lambert snaps in response as he snatches his hand away, angry at the mere suggestion that his feelings for Aiden would disappear for something as superficial as a physical injury, “of course I don’t love him any less for it. It’s just…”

Eskel doesn’t press him, and Lambert is grateful for that. Truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he feels so anxious at the thought of seeing Aiden again. It’s been a long year without his boyfriend there to warm his bed and his life. Aiden is the life of Lambert’s entire life, and a year without him felt like the longest time. A whole year went by since Aiden was deployed and has been fighting overseas, taking part in a war that has lost all meaning. He missed birthdays, holidays spent with family around a hearty meal, milestone anniversaries... A year of Lambert staying up late at night, calling Aiden whenever his connection permitted it or writing letters to send his boyfriend when speaking to him proved too difficult. A year of Lambert switching the TV or radio on every morning before heading to work, listening for the announcements and hoping he wouldn’t hear Aiden’s name listed among the soldiers that perished as part of this senseless war.

Just over a week ago, Aiden called Lambert from a military hospital overseas a short two days after he was involved in an explosion that cost the lives of hundreds of civilians and soldiers alike. While Aiden survived the blast, he sustained a considerable injury to his leg. The doctors couldn’t save it, Aiden told Lambert over the phone, the leg had to come off. Lambert remembered crying on the phone that night, not because he mourned the loss of Aiden’s leg - they were tears of relief because Aiden came this close to dying in the blast that killed so many people. Lambert came this close to losing the most important person in his life. Come home, baby, Lambert remembered begging Aiden over the phone, I need you to come home. Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least. As a result of the injury he suffered, Aiden had to retire from the military early. While Lambert was happy to have his boyfriend return to him, he knew that Aiden struggled with the thought of retiring at the prime of his career. Not only is he out of a job, but his job prospects are not looking too bright, either. Aiden will have to spend time in physiotherapy, physical rehabilitation courses, counselling… Lambert knows the next months will be tough on his boyfriend.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

“It’s gonna be just fine, Lamb.” Eskel sounds so sure, so confident, that Lambert is almost inclined to believe him. “I promise, brother. You and Aiden will be just fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Kel.”

The drive to the airport is longer than Lambert remembers it being. The car is filled with the sound of heavy rock and heavy metal, the loud emphatic beats and distorted guitar solos washing over Lambert in calming waves. His brothers call him weird for finding this kind of music ‘soothing’, but it works for him, so his brothers can kiss his ass. The sun is beating down on the world below, forcing Lambert to crank up the A/C in the car. He drives along miles of barbed wire, “KEEP OUT” signs and parked aircraft. Lambert checks the time on his dashboard and realises that he’s a whole half an hour early. It isn’t exactly unheard of for soldiers’ families to arrive early and prepare for their loved one’s arrival - either by setting up signs, powdering their noses or getting the children to practice a welcome home song to celebrate their parents’ triumphant return. Lambert usually just waits in the shadows until Aiden comes into view, at which point he pulls his boyfriend close to him so they can get reacquainted away from prying eyes.

Lambert pulls into the airport multistorey parking complex, and thankfully he doesn’t have to spend ages looking for a parking space. As he pulls up into a tight space, Lambert’s heart sinks in his chest. Aiden will probably be travelling in a wheelchair - and he will be using one for a while, at least until he gets his prosthetic leg fitted. There’s no way in hell that Aiden will be able to comfortably step into the car if Lambert stays parked in this spot, but what other choice does he have? He doesn’t have a disabled parking permit yet, but Lambert guesses that’s something they’ll have to think about now. Until then, all he can do is park further away from the door and hope that no one will use the bay next to the passenger side so Aiden has enough space to move comfortably. So that’s precisely what he does. Shit, is Lambert overthinking this? Is he looking for problems where there are none? The last thing he wants is to tiptoe around Aiden’s disability. The last thing he wants is to make Aiden feel like things have changed because he lost his leg.

Shit. Why is he crying now? He should be excited, goddammit.

Lambert angrily wipes the tears and steps out of the car. They’ll be just fine, that’s what Eskel said. Eskel sounded so confident, so sure of himself, but hell, what if he’s wrong? What if Aiden leaves Lambert? What if Aiden pushes Lambert away? It was probably a mistake to read up all those army wives’ blogs and the nightmarish stories about husbands shutting down and falling into depression after sustaining a serious injury. Shit, what if Lambert isn’t good enough? What if Aiden thinks that Lambert is a lousy boyfriend who can’t take well enough care of him?

Deep breaths, Lambert. In, out. In, out. In-

Shit, why are there so many people in this fucking airport? Lambert stands in his usual corner, shying away from the crowds, averting everyone’s eyes as he stares at his phone. He shoots his brothers a text in their group chat - Have I ever told u guys how much I h8 crowds? - hoping that they will understand and distract him from the panic welling up in his chest. As he waits for an answer from either Geralt or Eskel, Lambert switches to his Facebook app and scrolls through his feed. He doesn’t have to wait long until the group chat pings with Geralt’s response.

G: You’ve mentioned it once or twice… or 100

Lambert snorts as he shoots a sassy comeback.

So mentioning it 1 more time won’t hurt. I fucking h8 goddamn crowds.

A quick glance at the arrivals screen tells Lambert that Aiden’s plane landed a few short minutes ago. Not long before they are reunited and able to hug it out in the middle of the airport. At this point, Lambert doesn’t give a shit anymore about what other people think of them. He almost lost Aiden, so he will go on his knees and hug him, wheelchair be damned. Lambert looks around him and sees many families and loved ones itching to welcome the soldiers back. Some of them brought flowers, or the puppy they bought last week as a welcome-home present, and even newborn babies. Lambert wonders if he should have bought Aiden a gift to commemorate the beginning of his retirement. He feels like that would be in bad taste considering Aiden’s feelings on the matter.

The first soldiers start to filter through the door, eyes scanning the room and lighting up when they land on familiar faces. Many people cry tears of joy and relief, others manage to keep a modicum of composure, and some even let out shrill cries of joy as they are finally reunited with the people they love and cherish the most. There is still no sight of Aiden and part of Lambert worries that something happened to him in the week it took the military to organise his repatriation. Feeling the panic well up in him again, Lambert pulls out his phone and opens the group chat window. L: What if he doesn’t come back?

It doesn’t take long for his phone to vibrate with Eskel’s response.

E: As if he’d pass up an opportunity to come back to his pain in the ass boyfriend.

L: Ass.

G: He’ll come back, Lamb. He’ll come back and he’s not leaving again.

Lambert takes a deep breath as he lets these words run through his mind. Aiden is coming back. He’s coming back. He’s-

“Why, hello there,” a familiar voice breaks through the storm raging in Lambert’s head, “come here often?”

Aiden looks so… so like himself. He’s sporting that familiar cocksure grin and his eyes shimmer with all the emotions he can’t bring himself to voice. His voice sounds so self-assured, even though Lambert knows he’s only a breath away from losing it and crying tears of relief. His hair is slightly longer and Lambert can make out the familiar dark curls he loves so much. Aiden looks so much like his old self that Lambert forgets, for a short minute, that he’s missing the lower half of his left leg entirely.

“Aiden. You’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

Lambert doesn’t feel himself fall to his knees until they hit the solid surface of the airport floor, cracking in protest at the impact. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Aiden’s middle, squeezing tightly and burying his face in his boyfriend’s stomach. He’s unable to bite back the tears this time, and if Aiden notices that the soft material of his t-shirt is soaked right through, he doesn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he cards his fingers through Lambert’s short hair, softly shushing him and whispering heartfelt reassurances in the air pocket between them.

“I’m here, baby,” Aiden tells him over and over, “I’m back. I’m here, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I missed you,” Lambert hears himself say, “I missed you. I was so scared, Aiden, you don’t understand-”

“I’m here, Lamb. I’m here. You don’t have to be scared, anymore.”

They’ve got so much shit to figure out, Lambert knows. They need to think about all the adjustments they need to make to their lives, all the paperwork they’ll have to fill out, therapy sessions they have to book and medical insurance they need to update. All these things that terrified Lambert a few hours earlier, all these plans that made panic well in him and want to run for the hills… all these worries weighing him down disappear the second Lambert feels Aiden’s arms around him, squeezing him, comforting him.

“I’m not scared,” Lambert assures Aiden, pulling back and straightening up so he can place a soft kiss on Aiden’s lips. They still feel the same against his own, they still taste the same, too. Nothing has changed. Aiden is still Aiden. “Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” There’s a teasing edge in Aiden’s voice, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. “Ah, kitten. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I gotcha. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

Lambert happily obliges Aiden’s request. Their lips slot against each other like they didn’t just spend a year apart. Their kiss is tender and soft at first, but Lambert is quick to deepen it by licking Aiden’s bottom lip. Neither of them cares about the potential eyes on him - nobody is likely to pay attention to them, not when they’re all lost in the joy of being reunited with their own family members. Lambert breaks the kiss briefly to whisper a soft ‘I love you’ to Aiden. His cheeks turn red as he speaks those three words which still feel too intimate to be loudly proclaimed in public, even after all these years. Aiden steals another kiss before reciprocating the sentiment, his breath ghosting over Lambert’s lips and sending a peasant shiver coursing through his body.

They have lots of shit to figure out, but Aiden is here and he’s not going anywhere. Aiden is here, and neither of them has to deal with the situation on their own. They’ll be just fine. Everything will be just fine.

[just-another-ficwriter]

Holidate - Part Three

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader, Past!Reggie x Reader

Words: 2300ish

Warnings: Cheating, stealing

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: I don’t know why I always make Katy Keene the villain when honestly I love her!!!

Valentine’s Day 2021

“Okay, what about this one?”

Y/N looks up from the invitation designs she’s been pretended to be interested in for the last ten minutes to see Betty already shaking her head at the sample Polly’s holding up.

“Too boring.” She finds it hard not to huff in annoyance when Betty starts shuffling through the pile in front of her once again.

Too much decoration.

It’s the wrong colour.

Not enough decoration.

The fonts all wrong.

Y/N hadn’t realised picking something so simple like a wedding invitation could be so difficult.

But then again, Betty Cooper had always been a perfectionist.

“So Y/N...” Veronica starts. Even her sister’s best friend, who had been more than happy this morning to help with all things ‘wedding planning’ was desperate to change the subject at this point. “Any plans for tomorrow?”

All four pairs of eyes fall onto her, and she suddenly wishes Betty would go back to her rant about comic sans again. “Actually I have a date.”

“You do?” Polly tilts her head in surprise, looking at the faces of the others to see if they were just as much in the dark as she was.

“Is it with Pea again?” Toni asks with a smirk. It’s not the first time she’d brought him up since the start of the year.

Veronica leans forward, eyebrows raising with interest as she teases. “Oh, tall dark and handsome from the party?”

“If you must know, it’s with a bottle of wine and my bathtub.” Y/N’s the only one to laugh at her own joke, the others just shake their heads in disappointment. “I might even treat myself to a fancy box of chocolates.”

She’s sure the conversation about her love life, or lack there off, was over when Toni playfully slaps at her arm, but Betty, whose taken to organising the samples in piles, has other ideas.

“Toni could totally set the two of you up.” Betty lifts her gaze long enough to eye her sister and then their friend. “Right Toni?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.” Y/N frowns. She knew they all had good intentions but their need to always interfere was getting tiresome. She’d rather just find someone her own way, in her own time, rather than having some poor unsuspecting guy thrust upon her by the people in her life who just couldn’t help themselves.

She shudders at the thought of their last failed attempt. “I don’t need a date, tomorrow is just another Sunday.”

“Did something happen?” Veronica asks, sounding almost disappointed.

“Nothing happen.” Y/N sighs. “There was just no spark.”

“Oh please!” Toni practically jumps from her seat at his defence. “I’ve seen Pea with girls at the bar, and he’s never looked at any of them the way he was looking at you.”

Y/N makes a face to hide the flush heating her cheeks. “And that right there, is my cue to leave.”

“But I haven’t even picked the invites yet!” Betty cries out as the others groan in unison.

“Betts I love you-“ She pauses to shrug on her coat and pat the blonde sympathetically on the shoulder. “But there’s only so much of staring at bits of paper I can take.”

And then she’s gone, waving her goodbyes as she slips out of the shop and into the crowds of the busy mall with a sigh of relief.

She’s almost made it to her car when she passes a little chocolate shop on the lower level and feels her steps start to slow. She had mentioned to the others about possibly treating herself to some fancy chocolates so it wouldn’t hurt to at least have a little look.

She half way through browsing their selection, three boxes in hand as she weaves her way through the panicked men buying last minute Valentine’s gifts, when she hears a voice that makes her heart sink.

She jumps when he calls her name, the contents of her hands clattering to the floor. “Y/N Cooper is that you?”

She dives after the chocolate, afraid to look up. Maybe it’s not him she thinks. But then he’s on the floor with her, handing her back a box of truffles and she sneaks a look. Same slicked back dark hair, same breath taking smile he’d given her eight years ago on the football field.

She wants the ground to open and swallow her whole. “Reggie, hi.”

“You look... great Y/N/N.” He helps her off the floor and she has to stop herself from physically recoiling at his touch. Of all the people and all the places in Riverdale, of course Reggie Mantle would just so happen to be here at the exact same time as her. It was almost like a cruel joke. “How are you?”

“I’m-“ She’s cut off by a beautiful brunette wrapping herself around his arm, and her heart drops further. She recognises her face.

She’d seen her in the engagement photos on Facebook. She’d seen her sprawled out on Reggie’s desk two years before.

“Reggie! Here try this.” She ignores Y/N completely as she smiles playfully at the man between them. Reggie’s back to giving her his full attention as he opens his mouth so she can slip a chocolate onto his tongue. His lips close again around her fingers, moaning at the taste, and Y/N would rather be anywhere but here.

“Who’s this?” Katy finally acknowledges her and Reggie gives her a some what apologetic grimace.

Neither of them get the chance to answer before Sweet Pea appears suddenly out of nowhere and wraps an arm around her shoulder. “There you are doll, are you ready to checkout?”

“What?” Y/N blinks up at him, a little stunned.

“You were meant to meet me outside remember?” A bright neon sign would be more subtle than the look Sweet Pea’s giving her, pleading her to just go with it. “So are ready?”

“Oh yeah, sure-“

“Wait aren’t you going to introduce us?” Sweet Pea feels her tense up besides him at Reggie’s question, and pulls her closer.

“I uh- Sweet Pea this is my ex Reggie and his fiancé Katy.” Reggie nods slowly, eyeing Sweet Pea up and down. She can already hear his judgements about his name alone. “Reggie this is Sweet Pea-“

“Her boyfriend.” Sweet Pea interjects and Y/N cough to hide her surprise. “We should get going, it was nice to meet you.”

Y/N’s quick to agree, grabbing his arm and pulling him a little too harshly around the confused couple and out of the store.

A few minute later they’re out in the car park, Sweet Pea leaning against the hood of her car, watching her pace back and forth in a frenzy. She’d barely said a word to him since the two had run off.

“What the hell was that?” Her state of shock finally breaks, spinning to him with wide eyes. Had he really announced they were a couple back there?

“That was me saving you.” He smirks, a little too satisfied. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Oh god that was awful I think I might be sick-“ She cuts herself off with a horrified gasp, glancing down at her hands. Three boxes of unpaid chocolates still clutched tightly. “Shit! I didn’t even pay for these!”

Sweet Pea watches her spiral further and grabs her arms to stop a total panicked melt down.

“Hey- hey it’s okay.” He says carefully, encourage her to regulate her breathing before some stolen Valentine treats push her over the edge. “Maybe if we just eat them quickly, hide the evidence, they’ll never know.”

Y/N blinks, slowly nodding in agreement before handing a box over.

They sit there in comfortable silence for a while, picking out their favourites before Sweet Pea speaks out again. “So I’m gonna guess by the three boxes of chocolate that you have no date for tomorrow?”

She feels her cheek flush at his observation and shrugs. “No, I guess not.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?” He asks, before reaching for another truffle.

“I don’t know.” She smiles a little sadly, cheeks burning a deeper red. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“Well that offer to be my date still stands. Standing up again, Sweet Pea holds a hand out to her with a grin. “And you do kind of owe me now.”

Y/N finds herself accepting without hesitation.

-

“Can I ask you a question?” Sweet Pea’s laid on the picnic blanket besides her, leg stretched out as he picks at the label on his beer bottle.

The day had been a lot more fun than she’d been expecting. Y/N had gone in worrying about awkward questions regarding their relationship, fearing judgement from those who knew him best but they’d been nothing but welcoming. Even his best friend and room mate Fangs, had insisted she join them for drinks at the Wyrm that night, not taking no for answer.

She’d even enjoyed the look on both her Mom’s and Betty’s faces when they’d shown up together, confessing that her little joke at the mall the day before had been nothing but that, and she did in fact, have a date.

“Sure.” She shrugs, taking a swig from her own bottle. “Can’t promise I’ll answer it though.”

He chuckles at the way she smirks at him before asking. “Why are you single?”

“Woah, straight to the point.” She chokes a little in surprise.

“Sorry it’s just I’m not blind Y/N, you’re an attractive woman.” Sweet Pea casually points out. “Is it to do with that guy from the mall yesterday?”

“Reggie?” She pulls a face, and turns quickly away from him so she doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time.” He discard his drink to the side, moves an inch closer to show her he’s willing to listen if she wants to open up, so she does.

Things had been good at the start. Y/N Cooper and Reggie Mantle, high school sweethearts.

Reggie had been the first to show interest, where Y/N had been more resistant, weary of their age gap, little or not, and the fact he was younger than her. But he was nothing but persistent, insisting he wouldn’t give up until she agreed to at least one date with him at Pops, and so eventually she gave in.

A few cheesy jokes and a cheeky grin over a cheeseburger and suddenly he was all she could think about.

They dated through her senior year, promised to make it work when she went off to NYU and he stayed behind to finish school back at home. After a year of weekend visits and driving to Riverdale as quickly as she could every break, Reggie joined her out in New York, the two of them at college together, practically living at each other’s dorms until they graduated.

They managed to find jobs at their dream professions, moved into a little apartment that they made their own, everything seemed perfect.

Until one day, Y/N decided to surprise him at work for lunch, only to find him a little preoccupied with his beautiful assistant.

Katy Keene.

Just the memory alone makes her chest tighten, even if part of her feels a little relieved to have it all out in the open. Toni was the only other person to know the full story, so it was nice to have someone else’s perspective.

“So that’s it? One bad experience with a guy put you off dating?” He questions, earning him an awkward laugh from her end. “Not all men are Reggie Mantle.”

“It’s not just that Pea...” She’s sighs. There’s so much to the story he doesn’t know, things she isn’t willing to share the details of. “All the men in my life have lied and let me down, even the ones who aren’t meant to.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Sweet Pea arches an eyebrow and watches her struggle with the answer.

“My dad he-“ She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. She wasn’t ready for this right now, especially not when she’d already been so open about her past today. That, and the fact that she was enjoying talking to someone that didn’t look at her and only see the pain her father had caused. “He wasn’t a good person and it’s hard to trust someone when even your own father lies to your face.”

She’s caught off guard when he reaches over and places a warm hand over hers. When she looks up she’s met with eyes full of nothing but genuine honesty. “You can trust me.”

There’s no doubt in a mind to make her think otherwise.

For a second she swears she sees his eyes flicker down to her lips, but then he’s pulling away, awkwardly fumbling to sit up straight and the moments over just as quickly as it started.

“What are you doing for Saint Patrick’s Day?” The question slips out, a filler for the sudden uncomfortable silence between them before she starts to ramble. “I know it’s not really a typical holiday but my sisters usually come to New York and we’ve kind of made it a tradition to bar hop through as many places as we can before getting black out drunk.”

He can’t help but laugh, giving her a chance to catch her breath before she can get to the point. “I could use a date.”

“Sounds fun, I’m in.”

Holidate Masterlist

Forever Tag List: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

[nautiscarader]

Wendip Week 2021 Day 1 - Time Travel

Apologies for the massive delay, but my health, both physical and, as a result, mental, got a hit, and had to recover.. .we'll see how things go from there on, but at least I have some more ideas for other prompts.

I wonder if shipping week co-organised by me will accept my late prompts. 

(ao3)

==================

Wendy Corduroy leaned behind the wooden wall of the Mystery Shack, giving a few squirrels a rather frightening looks. And she had to be careful, as her mission was of utmost importance.

Despite the years she's spent working, and then almost living in the Shack, she felt as if she was on a an enemy's territory.

And of course, in a sense, she was one...

She weight each step of hers, as she crept through the empty lobby. The tourist season hasn't started yet, and the only ones judging her were heads of fake monsters that decorated the walls.

And then, as she turned her head, she collided with someone.

- Oh, sorry, Wendy - her boyfriend offered her his arm and was quick to check her for any bruises - No worries, Dip. - Wendy smiled and returned the soft kiss. - Listen, uh, I gotta meet with Soos, so, uh, catch you later? - Sure, dork. - she smiled - Oh, watch out for the flocks of drummingbirds, they're gonna have a parade... I think they scheduled it.   - Thanks for the tip! Love you!

She gave him a wave, and as soon as he exited the building, she returned to her mission, this time knowing that she'd have no one else to worry about.

But as she entered the upstairs room that once belonged to the young Pines twins, she realised she was sorely mistaken, as she met Dipper's frightened sight.

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes widened, as she realised what might have happened. She was trained for such eventuality, though she prayed it would never happen again. She still had nightmares about the Bunker...

In the split second she drew her axe and aimed it at him, forcing him to drop his weapon of choice, or rather what would have been one, had it not been a simple backscratcher. His posture, however, indicated nothing but readiness, and he dared not to lose his enemy from his sight.

- Alright, safety question: favourite animal? - Platypus bear! - Dipper replied at once, the axe's blade inches away from his throat - First movie we watched together? - "A serving of irony, or how aliens tricked us with double-meaning words".

For a long while, the two stared at each other, until their erratic breathing returned to normal, and they lowered their weapons.

- Wendy? - Yeah, it's me... Dipdop. - she smiled - But then-

Her eyes widened, and she stormed to the window, knowing what she'd see.

Next to Soos' family van stood another Dipper and Wendy, laughing about something.

Dipper was about to reach for his make-shift weapon, until he realised that what looked like Wendy would have already killed him several times by now.

- Wendy, wait, why are you-

She reached into her back pocket, almost at the same time as Dipper did. And when their eyes met, they both understood.

- Oh, crud. It's you. - they both said, pointing to each other.

At the same time, the earth began to shake.

- Come on, we need to help them. Us. Come on!

She grabbed his hand and the two darted downstairs, and by the time they reached the ground floor, the Earth in front of the shack has already opened and from the rift that tore down one of the wooden benches, two round creatures emerged, both looking equally angry.

The creatures didn't have eyes, but the razor-sharp teeth and long noodle-like tendrils, dripping with thick, red liquid gave off enough warnings.

Though she shouldn't have look away from them, Wendy had to make eye contact with herself, and her other boyfriend,  and when she did, she spoke one sentence.

- We both forgot.

The other Wendy and Dipper looked at each other, and both clapped their foreheads with their hands.

- Okay, but you guys are gonna explain it!

The other Dipper shouted and scooted away, just before the smoke cleared away, and the two Linguiniers split to chase them. But Wendy already formed a plan in her head: with the help of her boyfriend, she lept onto the broken half of wooden log that served as a bench, and when the tentacle was about to hit her, she dodged and was catapulted into the air, her axe already ready in her hands.

More thick, red paste covered the ground as two halves of monstrous orb fell to the ground, its tendrils still convulsing in its last moments.

But then, the two heard their voice, coming from the other side of the parking lot, and ran to help their doubles. But by the time they reached them, Dipper and Wendy have already trapped the other one by coiling its tendrils on a pitchfork that stuck out of the now-dead monster.

- Nice work. - Wendy congratulated the other two, tasting the marinara sauce from her shirt. - Shame it's gonna be our last meal, eh? - the other Wendy crossed her arms, looking at her with contemptuous look. - Well... it's kinda your fault too. - Dipper addressed the two, hoping to find common grounds.

A moment later, however, they all heard familiar beeping coming from their pockets.  

===========

- Okay....

And old man hid his face in his hands, wanting to pull hair from his head, but finding very little to work with.

- So you travelled back in time and answered his sudden appearance, and you did the same to react to her travel.

He pointed to Dipper and switched to Wendy, both wearing the same half-frightened, embarrassed looks.

- But why did you go back in the first place?! - the man shouted, desperate to find some sense in the convoluted tale,

Dipper and Wendy paused for a while, gathering thoughts as if they could come up with a better excuse. But as the two looked at each other, they realised there was no other way, other than coming clean.

- Because yesterday was our anniversary. - And we were both so busy that... - ...We both forgot. - ...So we both came back, thinking we met... - ...The original versions of ourselves... - ...When in reality we met the older us.

The older man's face changed the shade from red, to yellow and purple, until it was once more hidden in his hands for a very long time.

- And you killed two of our time-repairers. - Well, they kinda attacked us, so we had to do it, before they ate us to clean up the timeline. - But then Soos came back, and trust us, he ate them, and there is no evidence. - Shut it! - the man slammed his hand onto the desk.

Wendy reached her hand to her boyfriend's, who entwined his fingers with hers, as they both awaited the judgement.

- Your timelessness, having heard the confessions of this blatant disregard of our rules what do you say?

The desperate man looked up and addressed the floating, enormous toddler that overlooked not only this room, but the concept of time, and the several neighbouring realities as well.

- Let them go, these humans are so cute - the new Time Baby answered, toying with a ball of time yarn. - Your time tapes are locked. All four of you, until we untangle this mess, get out. - he barked and slumped over his desk, watching as the colours on the faces of both Dippers and both Wendys brightened.

A moment later, the four young adults were in the elevator, finally able to breathe properly.

- Wow, were we lucky. - Dipper clutched his chest - No more time shenanigans for us, though. - Definitely. - the other one added, clearing the sweat from his brow. - Well... - one of the Wendys interrupted him, watching as their eyes widen - I had one more thing in mind. - No! - they both raised their hands in protest - Haven't you heard him? - Yeah but we won't be doing "shenanigans". - the other red-head continued, mimicking Dipper's strict tone. I mean, technically, it's still yesterday, right? So why don't we celebrate the anniversary... with us?

A frisky smile appeared on their freckled face, followed by a subtle, but vivid blush.

- You mean... - Dipper swallowed loudly - With two of you? - And two of you. - the two spoke at the same time, sending shivers down their spines. - That-That definitely classifies as "shenanigans". - Dipper exchanged nervous looks with his slightly younger self. - And we can do squat until the tapes got unlocked so do you have better idea?

The air in the elevator became much more difficult to breathe as Dippers pondered the situation they were in. And the fact that this was the most sensible option made them both excited and deeply confused.

Never before has spending an anniversary with younger versions of themselves, eating freshly-cooked pasta and meatballs been so much fun.  

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 17

Here it is!

“So, how’s your uncle?”

“Not too bad. I was tellin’ the others that he probably could come but the physio’s insisting for him to not rush things. At his age, stuff takes a real amount of time to heal up.” Mundy took a sip of his drink while Larry returned to one of the couches. Richie went to the other end of the counter, tending to other customers. That left Mundy and Mark alone. 

“How long before you think he’ll be alright?”

“Physio reckons it’s gonna be an extra month, maybe a month and a half.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why? Does he owe you money or somethin’?” Mundy chuckled.

“No, I just miss talkin’ to him. He’s a cool guy.”

“Could still visit him at home. I'm sure he’ll be happy to see some people.” Mundy said, without thinking too much.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I mean…”

“If you don’t wanna, it’s fine.” Mark answered, and now for Mundy, it was clear. Mark was not asking to visit his uncle as much as he was scouting Mundy’s heart. As one would dip his toe in the water of a calm lake to measure its temperature, Mark was testing Mundy’s mood, where he stood with respect to him.

“Wanna play some darts?” The blonde asked. 

“Sure.”

Better leave it blurry, Mundy thought. There was no point anyway… Or was there? 

Both men stood a few metres away from the target and Mark threw his first dart. 

“Ha, not bad, eh?” He proudly said. 

“Yeah, true.” Mundy closed one eye and took aim. He looked at the target and saw the blurry dart in front of his face. “Hm!” He threw it.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me…!” Mark laughed and shook his head. “A bullseye? on the first try?”

“Well, if there’s somethin’ I can do, it’s aim.” Mundy said and took a step away for Mark to replace him in front of the target.

“Oh, that I know, Aussie.” Mark threw the second dart. “Ha! I’m gettin’ closer, man!”

Mundy smiled under his hat. He took Mark’s place and shot again. 

“What?! How d’you do it?!”

“Told ya.” Mundy’s raspy voice chuckled through his words. “I can aim.” He raised intense eyes to Mark. The American looked left and right. 

“Wanna get harder targets?”

“Pff, Mark-”

“It’s ok if you don’t like the challenge, eh.” The blonde quipped. “I’ll just let you win and assume it’s your luck.”

“Told you, Mark, I’m a hunter, gimme darts, arrows, a rifle, anything, and I can aim with it.”

“I'm a hunter too.”

“Are ya now? Where’s your game then?”

“Maybe…” Mark looked left and right. He took a step towards Mundy, leaving hardly a few inches between them. “... I need a few lessons from someone who's clearly better than me, and a little bit older, huh?”

“You could ask yer Dad.”

Mark's head swooshed to Larry on the couch. 

“He’s too busy right now, I wouldn’t want to bother him while he plays God knows what with his friends.”

“So you prefer to bother me?” Mundy answered and the blonde raised lustful eyes to him. Ha, Mundy had never been too good at telling the hints, seeing the signals, but the way that Mark stared at him with his hazel eyes was louder than sirens.

“Yeah.” Mark blinked delicately, or maybe he fluttered his eyes slightly. “So? Is your van free for another lil’ trip?”

Mundy pondered for a split second. His head was showing him wild pictures. Was it worth it? Would he end up living in New Mexico with Mark? Would he introduce him to his parents? Nah, he wouldn’t. Mark was way too hot-headed, Mundy did not really like that. But…

But his guts screamed at him. It had been a while since anyone had hit on him, and his ego was more than pleased with it all. The colder Mundy looked at Mark, the colder he behaved with him, the harder the young American clung to him. Gosh, Mundy loved the feeling, looking down in his eyes and seeing how much the other wanted him… When was the last time that it happened? Far too long.

“Alright.”

THe night was as dark as the last time that it had happened and the privacy of the van wasn’t enough for Mundy. He raced through the dry and golden desert of New Mexico, which now was as deep as the night could be. The Moon wasn’t there.

“Oh, yeah, M-Mundy… Take me - arh!”

The Aussie shut his head and listened to his body, to his blood pumping everywhere, to this feeling of sharing something with someone, doing something exceptionally not alone. Well, yeah, he could just lay there in his bed and do it with his hand. But nah, he was there with someone. And as Mundy looked under him at the man laying on his stomach, he felt everything mix within him. As the thrusts of his hips resounded in the slapping of his sweating skin against Mark’s, as the groans of the blonde filled him, as the golden streaks of sweat raked Marks skin under the old, yellow light in the van, Mundy realised he heard nothing and saw nothing either. 

Only his thoughts were there. The same thoughts he had when he was alone. Was that person the right one? Did he like them? Was there something in his heart that would push him to do the unthinkable for that person? Would he drop hunting for them? Would he drop hunting beasts for them? Would he drop hunting… men? Would Mark fill the part of himself that unbearably itched for decades now? Could Mundy let that itch irritate him and burn him instead of deafening it as best as he could with one-night stands? 

What did his heart think? Heart? Heart? Is there anything there for Mark and me or…? 

Ah, yeah, well… 

“Mundy, I’m gonna-I’m gonna… Arh!”

Mundy almost stopped thrusting as he rose back from his daydream. The blonde had somehow risen to his knees and elbows, and as Mundy recovered his ability to see, he realised that Mark had been frantically using his hand on himself until, well, the end. And it pulled the Aussie to finish too. 

“Oh, man… It was even better than last time…” Mark concluded as he rolled on his back.

Mundy’s lips pursed into a smile, but the voice inside him still banged at his heart’s door. 

Heart? Heart! Tell me! You can’t just not answer! C’mon! Tell me if I can hope for something with this bloke? Yes or no?! How hard can it be?!

He banged again and again, as both him and Mark cleaned up and lay down to sleep, this time together, in the narrow bunk inside the van. 

Heart?

-- A few weeks later --

It had become a habit. Mundy would meet with Mark and spend his nights with him, without either of them questioning it. And it took less and less for Mark to ask him. As of late, a simple nod of the head towards the pub’s main door sufficed to signal to Mundy that the American was in the mood.

Mundy indulged every time. Why? Because it never felt bad to have someone to do it with rather than his own hand, to be blunt. But of course, the more they met, the more Mundy wondered. And the more he wondered, the more he harassed his own heart and his head for an answer, because quite frankly, if he asked what he had below the belt, his relationship with Mark could last forever… 

During his days, Mundy became more familiar with the geography of the city and the overall State of New Mexico. He appreciated dearly the patch of desert not too far from his Uncle’s and spent time there when he wanted a corner of solace, an outer haven. And he spent his time there alone, as always. Not that he would fight anyone who would like to join him, but no one ever did want to come along. 

Not even Mark.

Mundy had asked him one day. 

“D’you wanna stay here tomorrow mornin’?”

Mark was half asleep, naked next to the Aussie in his warm van. 

“Nah…” 

“You sure?”

“What would we do here in the middle of nowhere?” The American spoke half into the pillow.

“We could spend the day huntin’, under the sun, just you and me. We’d be far from people and uh, y’know, just enjoyin’ ourselves.”

Mark chuckled in the pillow. 

“You’re a funny guy, Mundy… See ya tomorrow.”

The Aussie thought about that slice of conversation again and again, it was playing on loop in his mind as if it had been recorded on a broken disc. Was Mark just too tired to have a chat after their usual meeting? Or did he genuinely laugh at Mundy’s suggestion?

The Aussie sighed. In the silence of his lonely van, he thought about it. Hold on. Mundy may not know Mark’s intentions but he knew how he behaved. The American would always ask to be cleaned, then roll to his side and sleep. The only thing Mundy would hear from him was sometimes praise of his performance of the day, and a “Night, night.”. Well, then maybe he did not really laugh at him…?

The Aussie finally decided to exit his van. He had been parked in front of the pub for a long enough while, just lost in thought. He needed a distraction, and a beer would surely-

“Hey, Aussie.”

Mundy gasped. 

“Oh, hey, Mark. Sorry, I didn’t see ya.”

“No worries.” The blonde chuckled. “You came here early today.”

“So did you.” Mundy answered. 

“I’m just playin’ the taxi driver for my Dad. He wanted to have a chat with Richie to organise the next big party here. Samantha’s gettin’ married with Jerry.”

“Oh, alright, congrats to them then, eh…?”

“Yup.” Mark nodded. “But what're you doin’ here this early?”

“I just wanted a beer or somethin’.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure.”

Both entered the bar and got served quickly. It was too early to be really busy, although a few patrons were enjoying their lunch there. 

“So, uhm, Mark…?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you uh… Would you like to maybe spend some time in the desert?” Mundy asked with his eyes down on his beer. Mark laughed. 

“Again with the desert stuff? You like it more than lizards do!”

Mundy smiled. 

“Yeah but, I mean, it’s nice out there. Nice and calm. We could go for a bit of hunting, eat what we catch.”

“Pfff, and then what? Grill under the sun for some wild thing to make us their dinner? Nah, Mundy… You go and get roasted if you want, I like it better in the shade.”

Mundy frowned slightly.

“Right, then uh… What about somethin' else?”

“Like what? You’re not tryin’ to take me out on a date, are ya?”

“N-No, nah, I'm not the date kind of guy…” Mundy shook his head. “I just… Gets quite lonely out there, just lookin' for some company, and uh… You’re a hunter too so I thought that uh…”

“Well, it’s my father who’s big on the whole hunting thing. I follow him sometimes when I’m bored but I’m not huge on it.” Mark took a gulp of his fresh beer and Mundy’s eyes dropped to the floor.

“So you don’t wanna hang out with me sometime?”

“I think we’re good the way we are.” Mark answered. “Why change it?”

Mundy sighed. He looked at his beer and he didn’t want any of it anymore. 

“Right.” The Aussie took off and left the bar, his pint still almost completely full.

“Mundy?”

He turned back to Mark with a hand on the pub’s front door still. 

“What?”

“You angry at me?”

“No.”

“What? What’s this mean then? You just leave and you haven’t finished your beer?”

Mundy sighed and looked left and right. The last thing he wanted was his private life and his interest in men exposed to people who knew Phil very well. He entered back and went to Mark. 

“Listen, if you're just with me for the nights, I’m not in anymore.”

The bluntness with which he spoke shocked Mundy himself. 

“I thought you liked it better that way?”

“No-Yeah, I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.” He spoke between gritted teeth. 

“So much for tryin’ to make me believe you're not mad…” Mark said with a scoff. “If you don’t know what you want, I can’t answer you, Mundy.”

“Alright, then. Here’s what I’d like to know, Mark.” Mundy removed his hat and slammed it on the counter. “Are you just with me for the nights?”

“I mean, that’s what we’ve been doin’ and I-”

“Answer me.” Mundy’s fierce glare made Mark gulp down audibly before he frowned. 

“Yeah, guess I am.” The American finally admitted. 

“D’you wanna go on like this or d'you wanna…?”

“Do I wanna what?” Mark frowned, now he was as mad as Mundy. 

“I don't know!” The Aussie answered. “Maybe we could do stuff together instead of just using each other like that?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Mark asked. 

“Nothin’!” Mundy got his face closer to the American’s. “I just don’t like bein’ used, is all.”

“For someone who doesn’t like it and who’s a grown up man, you never said no, you never even raised the concern and you were the one fuckin’ me.” Mark spoke between gritted teeth for his shouts to be muffled into hard whispers. “You were the one to open your van, you were the one to get me out of my clothes, and you were the one to put it in me! Now if you didn’t want any of that, you never even gave me a clue about it! How could I have known?!”

Mundy sighed. 

“Look, I don’t know, I just… I can't go on like this.” Mundy answered and spun on his heels to leave again.

“Alright then, go back to spendin’ your days alone in the desert, see if that does you any good!”

Mundy stopped sharp. 

“What did you just say about me?” He said, slowly, and growling menacingly.

“I said: go back to the desert you like so much, I bet you’ll feel better there.” Mark repeated. 

“Pray that I never find you again, Mark.” Mundy pulled the hat down on his eyes and left.

“Or what, huh? What're you gonna do, huh? Hunt me down like I’m a deer?!” This time, Mark had raised his voice, but as he did, Mundy left and was already outside. 

The Aussie slipped in his van and drove back home. No. He needed the desert. He shifted gears to reverse. 

“Mundy! Mundy, wait!”

The Aussie  almost didn’t hear the voice calling for him. Larry came running to the van and banged the door on Mundy’s side. 

“Mundy, hold on!”

The Aussie lowered the window, his face as dark as his boiling rage made it. The shy Mundy within him wanted to blush. After all, Larry was Mark’s father. 

“Your mum’s called here, they’re asking you to go back home.”

Mundy’s eyebrows jumped and his face brightened, as if the storm raging within him a second ago had been pushed by the sun.

“Oh, uh, ok, thanks, Larry.”

“Pleasure, son, see ya!”

Mundy nodded and drove off. It took him the usual fifteen-ish minutes to reach back home. 

“Mum? You wanted to see me?” Mundy said as he entered. “Oh? What’s all that?” As he had pushed the door and entered, Mundy’s feet bumped on wicker bags. That one had towels at the top, oh, there was a cool box there. 

“Yeah, Micky, come in and go help your Uncle, will ya?”

“Sure… What’s with all the bags?” The Aussie entered the kitchen to find his mother making sandwiches. 

“We had a chat with your Uncle today. They say the weather’s gonna be real hot and sunny for the next week at least so we decided to go to the beach for a few days.”

“Oh…” Mundy’s eyebrows jumped out of surprise. “Alright, sure. You said Uncle Phil needed my help?”

“Yeah, he’s packing his stuff. I already dealt with your things and I assume you have some swimming shorts in your van, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“Then it’s all good. I’ll drive his car and you get your van with Marty next to you, yeah?”

“Works for me.” MUndy nodded with a smile.

“Perfect, now go before he goes mad. I’ve been hearing him grumble to himself…!”

“Sure, thanks, Mum.” Mundy came to leave a kiss on his Mum’s cheek. 

“No worries, baby.”

About an hour later, everything had been loaded into the van and the car, and Marty happily joined Mundy in his van, on the passenger’s seat. 

“How long is it till we get there?” Mundy asked.

“We’ll have to drive through the state and then through more or less the entirety of Texas to get to the sea.” Philip answered. “But if you ask me, better Texas than California!”

“Alright, you know your business, UNcle Phil.”

“It’s a twelve hour drive but of course, we’ll make a lot of stops and we’ll sleep on the way there. I know a few good places along the way. Used to make the trip with some colleagues at work once a year at least in summer.”

“Wow, twelve hours… I don’t think I’ve ever driven for that long.” Mundy answered. 

“It’s fine, son, we won’t do them all in one bite, eh?”

“I know, I know.. Still…! Right, let’s get started then.”

“You’ll just have to follow your mum, I’ll be with her to guide her.”

“Ok, thanks Uncle Phil.”

“Thank you, son.”

Mundy climbed in the van, on the driver’s seat. As he did so, Marty who was sitting on the passenger’s seat started wagging his tail.

“Hey, Marty, ready for the journey?”

The dog leaned into Mundy’s hand to enjoy some good head scratching. 

“Right, gimme a paw then, eh?”

The dog obeyed.

“That’s a good boy right there, good puppy. Right, Mum’s starin’, you sit and be a good boy while I drive, yeah?”

[hwauas]

🕊️(+🔞): 7 minutes in heaven

park seonghwa, jeong yunho, song mingi | 박성화, 정윤호, 송민기 - 2,623 words

please, before reading this;

this piece has a smut part WHICH IS ONLY A PART. i'm gonna put in red the word you can read up to before it switches to a smut. and after this word, you can read at your own risk.

Yunho and Mingi were best friend. everybody knew it.

but nobody else than Mingi knew how Yunho felt about Seonghwa.

who is Seonghwa? Seonghwa is the oldest among their little band. this band composed of 8 different personalities. but that was their strength.

Seonghwa had everything Yunho could ask for. he was obsessed by Seonghwa. he was thinking about him, he was talking about him, he was sometimes staring at him with pure love in his eyes. and the older, of course, noticed it after few weeks. he noticed how Yunho's gaze on him changed. he noticed how Yunho's tone changed when he was talking to him. and he noticed how clingy he became — he was clingy already, but he became way more clingy.

Seonghwa never did anything. he never did something that could warn Yunho about feelings for him, or something that could warn Yunho about his disinterest in him. he was lost, he didn't know what to think, nor what to do.

today again, they had to spend the rest of the day, and the night, all together. but Yunho asked Mingi to meet him at a park before to talk about the upcoming event.

“hey, wassup?” asked Mingi as he waved at Yunho and sat besides him on the bank.

“hi Mingi. i wanted to talk to you about something.”

“oh no. again about Seonghwa.” Mingi sighed — even though it was teasing only. “if i knew, i would have taken a pillow or something to sleep while you talk again about how much you love Seonghwa.”

Yunho slightly punched Mingi in the arm, whining. “hey, that's mean...” he laughed alongside Mingi before exposing everything. “listen.. it's just that i don't know what to think about the whole situation and i'm afraid about what may happen tonight.”

“dude, relax, what could go wrong?” Mingi looked at Yunho with concern.

“are you kidding me? San and Wooyoung are the ones who organised the whole party thing of tonight. it won't be a surprise if, out of nowhere after drinking alcohol, they scream something like LET'S PLAY 7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN! or LET'S PLAY TRUTH OR DARE! and then, it will be a problem.”

Mingi smiled as he saw how worried his best friend was. “it's not as if he will put you pregnant if we play 7 minutes in heaven and you both are chosen by the bottle.”

“ah-ah-ah, funny. i'm cry laughing.”

“i'm happy i can help.” Mingi said as he patted his best friend's back.

they stayed quiet a few minutes. Yunho was still lost. a ton of different scenarios were going on inside his head. but none actually good enough to make him a little bit more confident.

“fuck...” he breathed out as he held his head tightly between his hands.

“Yun, relax. i'm pretty sure he noticed few things about your feelings for him. and if he didn't say anything to you, if he doesn't show any unease around you, i'm sure you have all your chances with him.”

with tears in the corner of his eyes, he looked at Mingi desperately. “does he even like boys? i don't even know!”

“hey, Yun. shhh..” he slowly wrapped an arm around him to hug Yunho. he wasn't the most touchy-feely among them, but in front of his best friend's distress, what else could he do? “he does like people for who they are, not what they are. he doesn't really give importance to the genre.” Mingi tried his best to cheer up on his best friend. yet he wasn't that good with words neither.

Yunho finally nodded, and wiped away those years before they fall down his cheeks. “thank you for always listening to me, Mingi.”

when Mingi felt like Yunho was doing better, he let him go of.

“let's have a bubble tea! my treat.”

with that, they both left to go to the nearest bubble tea shop. they spend some quality time together, and Yunho could forget a little about what was bothering him regarding Seonghwa.

when time finally came, they both reached to San's home. it was a huge one, far from the center, with a lot of space to enjoy an afternoon and a night as they were about to do.

Seonghwa was already here, talking with Hongjoong — the second 98 liner. Yunho's eyes was scanning Seonghwa with pure love again. from head to toes. he was well dressed — as always — and was wearing the kind of outfit Yunho liked the most: a shirt, unbottonned enough to see a little bit of his chest.

he was interrupted by Wooyoung who came to great them. he was holding a box he extended to them to put their phones in.

“you know the rule guys: no phone, no risk to do something completely dumb while being drunk.” Wooyoung said.

Yunho and Mingi put their phones in the box, and entered the house. the music was already playing, and the TV screen was on, showing that few video games were planned.

Yunho and Mingi were the last to join. everybody gathered on the sofa in front of the TV when San called for the beginning of their party,. yet, Mingi hold back Yunho for a moment and whispered: “don't think too much, and enjoy the moment with everybody.”. Yunho nodded, and sat on the sofa.

the video games they prepared were ones they play a lot to. yet, it was still something they enjoyed to do.

as always, a lot of laughters, a lot of joy, a lot of happiness: everything to make beautiful memories. they played until the sun almost disappeared.

“guys, let's watch the sunset before the real start of our evening all together.” Wooyoung and San exchanged a conspiratorial smile, and turned off the TV.

with that, they all stood up and took a bottle of beer before going out, in the garden. they sat at different spots, by two or three. Yunho decided to sit next to the pool, and he was alone. he was looking at the sunset, drinking sometimes the beer.

and slowly, Seonghwa approached.

“can i?” Seonghwa asked, and sat almost immediately after Yunho nodded. “you seem a little bit... out if it, absent-minded. is there anything?”

“i just..” Yunho looked up to take a look at Seonghwa's face. he was drinking on his beer, and he couldn't help but stare at him. his plump lips on the neck of the bottle, his jawline perfectly exposed to him, his Adam's apple moving, his hair covering his eyes. he looked ethereal. Yunho looked away pretty quickly, and cleared his throat.

“there's a lot.. in my mind..” Yunho tightened a little his hand around the bottle to try and keep a control on himself. the veins slowly got more visible on the back of his hand.

it was very hard for him to hold back both his feelings and the desire. even though the older didn't do anything, just this shirt and the way he drank was slowly getting him. he slowly felt like he was turned on minutes after minutes.

Seonghwa noticed the hand around the bottle. he leaned over a little to try and look at Yunho's face.

“wanna talk about it?” Seonghwa asked, but Yunho shook his head as a no. it felt a little bit sad the other didn't open up a little more. “i'm not good at giving advices.. but i'm a great listener. just reach me if you ever want to talk about anything.”

before Yunho could answer, Wooyoung called for everybody. the sun was down now, and Yunho didn't really noticed it at first.

“before we get too drunk... 7 minutes in heaven?” he asked as he shook his bottle which was now empty.

“but when we're drunk.. aren't we 100% sincere?” Jongho asked as he sat down on the floor with the other, in circle around the bottle.

“maybe. but i don't want anybody to throw up at me while i'm kissing him.” Wooyoung said, making everybody laugh in the room.

the first duo which was selected by the bottle was Yeosang and Hongjoong. they both went in the dark room, and nobody knows what happened. Yeosang got out of the room with a bright smile, but any hints, and Hongjoong followed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“suspicious.. very suspicious.” San said, before handing the bottle to Hongjoong.

he spinned it. and the neck first pointed at Seonghwa. before spinning it again, Mingi leaned over and whispered into his ear: “let Seonghwa and Yunho have a moment together.”

Hongjoong nodded, and with a smirk, weakly spinned it so the neck was now pointing at Yunho. “7 minutes. not a single second more.” Hongjoong said as he clicked his tongue right after.

“he did it on purpose!” Yunho said, looking at San and Wooyoung. but as if they were in cahoots, they both shrugged.

“we never said it was forbidden.~” Wooyoung said, knowing too well there was something between them.

Yunho stood up as he sighed, and followed Seonghwa into the dark room. as soon as he closed the door, Seonghwa pushed him against the door.

“do you really think i didn't notice?” he said with a deep voice in the other's ear. Yunho was trapped by Seonghwa's body and arms around him.

this got Yunho surprised, earning a gasp from him. “notice.. what..?”

“the way you look at me. both with pure love or.. hungrily, like you did earlier.” Seonghwa started kissing the area behind his ear, and went lower to his neck. “the way you became way more clingy. the way you're talking to me which became so smoother.” Seonghwa straightened up as if he wanted to look into Yunho's eyes — which he couldn't because of the darkness. “i hope you're gonna tell me the truth quickly so we can enjoy the rest of the time properly: do you love me, Yunho?”

Yunho gulped hardly, but finally nodded. “i.. i do.. i fucking do, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa immediately kissed him; it was passionate, yet showing a little bit his desire.

“6 minutes left!”

Seonghwa pulled away from the kissed and grawled. “dammit.” he kissed once again the other's neck, and mark his territory by a hickey.

Yunho felt extremely weak at this moment. he loosely hold on Seonghwa's hair.

“but wait wait wait..” Yunho said as he felt the pleasure growing inside him, making him breath quickly. “you.. you do love me?”

Seonghwa straightened up as he heard Yunho, scared to do something he didn't want. but when he heard the question, he sighed. “you scared me, idiot. i thought you don't like this..” he pecked Yunho's lips, this time as gently as possible. “i love you too, Yunho.”

Yunho's heart skipped few beats at this confession. and before he could tell anything, Seonghwa was kissing him again while pushing him on a chair. he kneeled in front of him, between is legs.

“we have..” Seonghwa started to say, but got interrupted.

“5 minutes left!”

the older laughed at the good timing. since he could see a little bit into the darkness, he could see Yunho looking down at him and trying to control his breathe. he had a hand in his own hair, and was bitting his lower lip. “what do you want me to do during these 5 minutes? hurry up, tell me!”

Yunho couldn't say anything. it was a moment he never thought he would live. and he never thought he would have the chance to ask Seonghwa for something. he lowered a little more his head, looking at his lower region. anyways, he couldn't go back to them like this..

Seonghwa noticed the head lowering again, and smiled as he understood the problem. “alright.~”

Seonghwa unbottonned the other's pants in aim to help him. once his lower region was unclothed, he immediately hold onto his length to go up and down.

“gotta stay quiet, baby.~”

Yunho only answered with a deep noise. his head slowly fell back, looking at the ceiling, as the pace of Seonghwa's hand got quicker.

“4 minutes left!”

Yunho was throbbing inside Seonghwa's hand. he wanted to close his thighs because of all the pleasure he was experiencing, but his thighs would met Seonghwa's body at a moment. the older noticed it, just as he noticed this had to go quicker: he didn't want the other to barge in the room if they stayed longer than 7 minutes, and to see him like this. he wanted to be the only one to have this sight.

“don't hold it back, baby. come for me.” Seonghwa said, waiting impatiently for the other's orgasm.

“holy fu..! Hwa..~” Yunho was trying as much as possible to hold back his moans, even though this was frustrating him.

to try and get him release, Seonghwa kitty licked the tip of the other's length. the feeling got Yunho throbbing harder.

he ran a hand through Seonghwa's hair and hold on them. he arched his back a little.

“3 minutes left!”

as Seonghwa kept going, Yunho finally came into the older's hand. Seonghwa slowly stopped his hand, and let go of Yunho's throbbing member.

Yunho slowly let go of Seonghwa's hair, and got a grip on himself. he leaned over to kiss Seonghwa's forehead.

“thank you so much, Hwa..”

he looked around the room to try and find tissues. he grabbed the box, and helped Seonghwa getting rid of the white liquid on his hand. he cleaned himself up, and get dressed again.

“was it because if these kisses in the neck?” Seonghwa asked as he took Yunho's place on the chair once he got up to throw away the tissues.

“yeah.. it's an erogenous spot.. and also because it's you!”

“what do you mean, Yun?”

Yunho approached Seonghwa again, a little bit lost in the dark room.

“2 minutes left!”

Seonghwa grabbed Yunho by his waist and pulled him to make him sit in his lap. this is when he felt that Seonghwa was also turned on: a little bulge was pecking his buttocks.

“you have 2 minutes left to tell me the truth.~”

Yunho sighed as he noticed he was obliged to tell him everything: “because besides the fact i love you and desire you since a lot.. you're so damn hot in shirts.”

Seonghwa giggled at this confession as he hid himself behind his back. “i'll keep that in mind.” Seonghwa said with a smirk, and slightly spanked Yunho. “be a good boy, and kiss me till our 7 minutes are over.”

Yunho turned over on the other's lap, and first only pecked Seonghwa's lips. he pulled away right after.

“but.. what about you..?” he asked as he lowered his head to look at Seonghwa's lower region.

“who said the night was over? i just talked about our 7 minutes, baby.~” he said with a deeper voice, and immediately kissed Yunho passionately.

“1 minute left! start cleaning the cum, guys!”

as they were kissing, they heard laughters in the living room because of the comment. they stopped kissing only when thirty seconds left were announced, and stood up.

“you're sure about that, Hwa..?” Yunho asked worryingly as they were about to go out.

“i'd suggest you.. 7 minutes more in heaven.~”

when they got out, Seonghwa immediately went to the bathroom. Yunho immediately understood, and went back in the living room. of course, the hickey was visible, and the smiles they all did showed that everyone understood what happened.

“we'll be back.. in 7 minutes.~” Yunho winked to them, and almost ran to spend again minutes in heaven, with his angel.

Mingi and Hongjoong gave each other a high five, happy about what they've done.

[sunnydaisy1]

School Trip

Tom Holland x fem!reader

A/N: I FRICKING LIVE FOR TEACHER!TOM LIKE LORDDDDD HELP ME. I hope you enjoy and yes, yes i am a hoe for the natural history museum. 

You put your keys into your rucksack's pocket as you walk across the staff carpark towards the school. Your class was going on a school trip today to the National History Museum alongside the other year 5 classes. (Ages 9 to 10 for those of you who aren't British) The coaches were already pulled up outside the school and the children were starting to filter through the gates towards the canteen. You briskly walked to your classroom to grab the attendance lists and forms you had left there yesterday. You quickly entered the classroom, turning the lights on and gathering the papers on your desk and trotting to the cupboard to get the medical forms. You heard a knock on your door and leaned back out the cupboard to see Tom leaning on your doorframe, smirk on his face. Your heart fluttered at his casual attire- blue jeans with a black shirt under a flannel. How could someone look so good no matter what they wore? He could wear a binbag and pull it off. You quickly grabbed the forms and locked the cupboard door. "Hey Tom, I'm just grabbing these." You said and he nodded, smiling at your slightly panicked movements. "Alright love, saw you pop in here and thought we could walk to the canteen together." He replied, rucksack slung on his back. You grinned slightly, "sounds good, you got your classes' medical forms?" Tom nodded, waving a plastic wallet of papers, "Yep." Once you had turned your classroom lights out, you and Tom walked along the corridor to the canteen, scooting past younger year students on the way. You both entered the canteen and saw your pupils waiting in areas designated for each class. Considering that you had class 5A and Tom had class 5B, your students were huddled next to each other. "See you in a minute." Tom said, already occupied with dealing with overexcited children. You nodded and made your way over to your own class, pulling out the clipboard with the register attached. "Okay everyone, I'm gonna do the register so can we please quieten down?" You announced and all your pupils turned to face you, shushing each other. "Perfect, thankyou!" There were only 2 children missing from your class and you weren't too worried as there was still 15 minutes until the students should be filing onto the coaches. Mrs Jackson who was running this whole trip came over to you, her hair neatly done up in a bun with a sharp look on her face, "How many yet to arrive?" "Only 2." You replied before she walked over to Tom who was chatting to a few of his students who were giggling. You watched him fondly before you felt a tug on your arm, "Miss L/N, Harry and Lily have arrived." You kindly thanked the little girl and walked over to the two students, checking their names off the list and chatting with them for a bit. 10 minutes later, Mrs Jackson stood at the front of the canteen and blew her whistle, signalling for everyone to listen up. "Okay everyone, we will soon be boarding the coaches so I want all of you to listen to your teachers and follow their instructions quietly and sensibly. If you need the toilet now is the time to go as the coach journey there will be a while. Classes 5A and B are to head to Coach 1. Classes 5C and D to Coach 2. Thankyou." You turned to face your children, "Alright everybody, does anyone need the toilet?" A few hands popped up, "Okay, is that everyone because like Mrs Jackson said there will be no toilet stops until we get to the Museum?" A few more hands raised and you nodded, "I need you to follow Mr Barnett to the toilets then and the rest of you will wait here with me." The small group of children followed the kind TA to the toilets, leaving you with the rest of the class. "Is everybody excited to see all the fossils and dinosaurs?" You asked, earning a lot of cheers and excited chatter from the pupils. Tom checked his list before looking over to your class, chuckling at the crowd of beaming faces listen to you describe what they might see at the museum, mirroring his own excited bunch of kids. "Mr Holland are we gonna leave soon?" A small kid asked and Tom nodded, "Yep, we are just waiting for the last few to come back from the toilets Jake then we'll be good to go." You soon all filtered out the canteen and walked to the coaches parked outside the school. Your class and Tom's had merged on the way and you stopped outside the coach door, waiting for the kids to quieten down. Tom spoke up, "Okay everyone, we need you all to find a seat on the coach and buckle your seatbelts in, Miss L/N and I will do a register once you're all on." You stepped to one side as the coach door opened and signalled for the first kids to climb onto the coach, already racing to the back to get the best seats. You chuckled at their eagerness and checked your watch, happy to see that you were on time. Once all the kids were on, you climbed up the steps while Tom talked to Mrs Jackson. You found the 2 remaining seats and passed out a sheet to each of the parent volunteers and teachers, detailing which children were in each group. You spoke loudly to gain everyone's attention and the coach instantly silenced, kids eager to leave as soon as possible. "I'm going to do 5A's register and when Mr Holland is back he will do 5B. Please say yes if you are here and wave so we can see where you are. Okay, Daniel?" Each of your children waved at you as you read out their name, and you breathed a sigh of relief as all children from your class were present on the coach. You heard Tom climb onto the coach and he stopped beside you, getting the pen from behind his ear as he completed his class register. "All good?" You asked and he nodded, placing the pen back and putting the clipboard down. "Okay everyone, Mr Holland and I only have a few things to say before we head off. No one is to leave their seat whilst the coach is moving unless it is an emergency. We expect you all to be on your best behaviour as you usually are and once we arrive, we will tell you which groups you are in." You announced, Tom nodding beside you. "Yep, now we are going to come and check all your seatbelts are done correctly before we leave." You both walked up and down the aisle, ensuring each child had their seatbelt on. You plopped yourself down in the seat you found, Tom talking to one of his students before walking to find you. "Mind if I join?" He asked, cheekily grinning at you as you looked up from the groups sheet you were studying. "Not at all." You said, moving up so you sat in the window seat. Tom scooted in beside you, taking his rucksack off, "thanks, you worked out which group you're with yet?" You nodded, "Yep, group 4. And if I am correct...." You scanned the page, stomach flipping at the thought of spending a whole day with Tom, "You are also assigned to group 4." Tom grinned, looking down to where you were pointing to see Tom Holland and Y/N L/N written above Group 4. "So I am." Tom said cheekily, "lucky me." You shoved him playfully and he chuckled, leaning onto you slightly so he could do his seatbelt, causing a waft of his cologne to go up your nose and subsequently give you a mini heartattack. The journey to the museum passed quickly, you and Tom discussing his trip to see his parents last week and your plans for Easter. The coach pulled up to the school parking area at the Museum and you and Tom both unbuckled yourselves, clambering out the seats to stand up in front of the students. "I'll read out your groups now and your group leader will register you once we all get off the coach." Tom explained. "Okay first off we have Group 1..." Soon, all the kids were off the coach, standing beside their group leaders who were starting to register them. You got off the coach after checking to see no one had left anything and walked over to where Tom was standing, looking effortlessly handsome whilst checking off the kids from the list. "MISS L/N!" The kids cheered when you walked over and you grinned, "Looks like you're all excited then." You said, making all the children nod their heads enthusiastically. "We have the best group- we get both you and Mr Holland!" Gracie from your class declared, many kids agreeing with her. "Thanks you guys." Tom said, nudging you shoulder with his. The students were all soon waiting in one of the school rooms within the museum, waiting for a worker to come and hand you all out maps and other items. A middle aged woman walked in, carrying a large box full of stuff. "Hello everybody you must be from Beckonswell Primary School!" She asked, causing all the children to nod and cheer. Mrs Jackson introduced herself to the worker who said her name was Mandy. Mandy clasped her hands together as she waited for all the children to listen up. "Okay everybody so before we all head out to the different areas of the museum, i have a few things to give out to you all and some rules." She held up 6 packs of wristbands and some maps. "Here are wristbands for each of your groups, just so that if any of you get lost, we know which school you are from and can get you back to one of your teachers. I also have maps detailing the different areas of the museum which i will give to your fabulous group leaders." Mandy handed the wristbands to Mrs Jackson who walked around, dispersing these to each group leader. "Now for the rules. At the National History Museum, we only have 3 very important rules that will make sure your time here is enjoyable and interesting for everyone. Number 1, you always stay with your group. Number 2, you do not touch or climb on any of the exhibits. And finally Number 3, you have fun and ask lots of questions! That's all from me until lunchtime where I will meet you back in here. Have fun guys!" Mandy announced before walking off to the side slightly to allow us to get organised but still ask questions if needed. Tom turned to the group and smiled, "Alrighty then you lot, i need you all to find a partner, any partner will do and when you are done put your hand up and i'll give you out a wristband." The 10 kids quickly arranged themselves into pairs, Tom handing them each a matching coloured wristband. You were busy studying the map, working out where your group was going. Frances spoke up as her partner was sticking her wristband to her wrist, "wait Mr Holland, you don't have a partner, what if you get lost?" Tom nods his head in your direction and said, "I'm stuck with Miss L/N." The children all giggle and you turn around, "Hm?" You ask, looking at them expectantly. Tom waves two pink flurescent wristbands in front of you and says, "We're partners." whilst wiggling his eyebrows, causing you to roll your eyes but grin at his childish behaviour. Tom hands you one of the wristbands and you take it, trying to secure it on properly but struggling with the map in your hand. "Here darling let me do it." Tom says when he notices your struggling and takes the wristband from your hand while you extend your arm out so he can stick it round. His fingers gently dust the wrist of your skin, making your heart beat a little faster. He runs a finger under the side of the band, his soft skin moving against yours, "This alright? Not too tight?" He asks, still gently holding your wrist in his grip. "Perfect, thankyou Tom." He grins and sticks his own wrist out, making you chuckle and put down the map as you take his arm and wrap the wristband around his wrist, trying not to enjoy the way his veins are prominent in his forearm and the look of his hands. "All done." You say, letting go of his wrist. "Cheers Y/N." Tom says, whilst you pick up the map again. Soon, you are in front of your first exhibit, the children gazing in awe at the dinosaur fossils in the glass case as you read the sign beside it out loud. Tom is crouching beside a few of the students, pointing to the different parts as you explain. You continue to walk round the museum, stopping in front of the exhibits to marvel at them and you often found yourself rambling on to Tom about them and whilst he found himself watching you with a warm feeling in his chest as your eyes lit up with passion and awe. One of the girls from your group spotted a dark room off to the side where a video seemed to be playing and she instantly walked up to Tom, begging him if they could go have a look. You shrugged as if to say why not to him when he looked up at you and you made sure all the kids were with you as you entered the dark room. There were cushioned benches staggered at the back of the room, much like a tiny cinema and you told the children to sit on the front benches so they could see better whilst you and Tom stood up on the side as there weren't any seats left. You both squidged yourself behind a group of exchange students, Tom leaning against the wall as you stood in front of him. You accidentally trod on his foot when someone squeezed in front of you and you heard him yelp softly and you immediately turned round, placing a hand on his forearm, "Oops sorry Tommy, didn't mean to squish your foot." Tom shook his head, "No worries love." You returned back to watching the movie about the evolution of birds, much like the kids from your group, in awe. You were too enthralled in the short movie to see an older couple squeeze in front of you, Tom gently placed his hands on your upper arms and pulled you back against his chest as they passed in front of you, whispering a thankyou. Your eyes widened as you felt Tom's chest against your back, feeling the room get so much warmer. "Sorry love." He said, releasing his hands from you and you quickly stepped forward a bit, wanting to calm down your heart from the contact. The short movie quickly ended and small lights lit up across the room, guiding people out as they left. You walked to the front, glancing at Tom quickly to see a blush on his freckled cheeks. "That was awesome Miss L/N!" One of the kids said and you chuckled, "It was wasn't it. I think we have time to visit one more exhibit before we head back to the room for lunch." Tom followed as you left the room, all your kids excitedly chattering in front of you as they walked to the next exhibit. "You were like a lil kid in there Y/N." He said as he walked beside you, grinning at you, "All big eyes and gaping mouth at the screen." You chuckled and nudged him, "what can i say, I'm a sucker for history." Tom laughed and tucked his hands in his pockets. Soon, it was lunch and the kids were all sitting round the tables as the teachers and parents plopped down at their own seats. "Did you enjoy the whale display?" Mrs Kit asked you as you sat down beside her. "I loved it, probably more than the kids!" You replied and she laughed, continuing to discuss the museum and your shared love for history. Tom sat down beside you a minute later after answering some of the kids questions. "Oh damn Holland, cheese sandwich, that is a surprise." You stated when Tom took out his lunch, referencing to his regular choice of ham. "What can I say y/n i'm a man of many tastes." Tom replied, taking a large bite out of his sandwich and grinning at you. You unwrapped your own sandwich, placing a few of your crisps between the bread. "I will never understand why you do that." Tom states, watching on in half disgust as you smush your sandwich down. "It adds more texture to my meal Thomas." You say, knowing he loves to make fun of you for this. "Woah slow down there I didn't know Gordon Ramsay was sitting next to me." Tom replied, cheekily beaming as he saw you narrow your eyes at him. "Very funny, now leave me and my delicious sandwich alone cheddar boy." You take a bite of your sandwich and Tom laughs at your defiant expression. When lunch is over, you walk back over to Tom after going to the toilet quickly to see him doing impressions of dinosaurs. You stand beside him as he roars and waves his lil 'dinosaur hands' and the children giggle, laughin hysterically as he turns to you and chomps his teeth twice. You grin and shake your head, getting ready to leave. You spend the rest of the trip walking around the remainder of the museum, taking your time to answer the children's questions and explain to them the different animals and plants. It soon reaches 2.45 and you are forced to return back to the coaches so the children can get back in time for end of school. You and Tom are waiting outside Coach 1, watching as the last child gets on the coach. Mrs Jackson was to come round before you got on to leave and you tucked the register away. Tom pulled something out his bag and stood opposite you, grinning at you as you squinted at him in the sunlight. "I got something for you." He beams, that cheeky smile making your stomach flutter. Tom hands you a small brown paper bag from the gift shop and you open it to see a little dinosaur skeleton statue in it. You look up at him and feel your cheeks aching with smiling so hard, "Aww thanks Tom, i love it." He returns your wide smile and pulls out another brown bag, "I got matching ones so we now have dinosaur twins for our desks." He wiggled his eyebrows at you and sent you a wink, cuasing you to laugh. "They're amazing, I'm going to call mine Sid." You say, making Tom snort, "like the sloth from ice age?" You nod, cradling 'Sid' in your hands, "Yep." Tom shakes his head at you, grinning at you, "Well mine is Bill." Its youre turn to snort, "After Mamma Mia?" You ask and Tom nods enthusiastically, "Of course." Mrs Jackson comes and collects the checked off registers from you, allowing the pair of you to return to your seats on the coach. Tom clambers in next to you and you take out your phone, looking through the photos you took today as the coach leaves. Tom watches you as you smile at each one, "You're such a nerd." He states, causing you to tear your eyes away from the screen, "Wow thats rude." You chuckle at Tom's teasing. "You're a nerd too Tom, don't deny it I saw those dinosaur impressions." Tom grinned, "You're lucky you're cute L/N." He states, watching as your eyes slightly widen but beam remain in place. "Doesn't cancel out calling me a nerd Thomas." You shrug your shoulders, returning to flicking through your photos. "Will a day out to the Fossil museum this weekend cancel it out?" Tom asks, making you almost have whiplash from looking up at him. Tom gets flustered as you look at him, scratching the back of his neck, "I mean...only if you wanted to-" You cut off his nervous rambling, "I would love to go on a date with you." Tom grins, heart skipping a beat, "Great." Tom leans forward to kiss you but you place a finger on his lips, making his eyes open, "As much as I would love to kiss you right now Tom, we are in the middle of a coach full of kids." You whisper, making Tom's face go bright red. "Oh..right uh yeah..." He stutters and you grin, lacing his fingers with yours instead. 

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost​ {message me to be added!}

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: The Perfect Date

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: There's trouble in paradise for you and Ben but will the distance bring about some revelations? And what does it mean for your romantic reunion?

Warnings: The usual fairly innocent stuff, some swearing and drinking and mentions of smoking, but with the additions of PDAs out the wazoo, public make out, private make out.

Words: 8093

A/N: Things get a lil spicy in this one! Small disclaimer that I don’t drink so I have no idea what wine does to someone, or two someones who split a bottle. Also just another reminder that this was in no way inspired by rumours regarding Ben’s rl relationship with Olivia Cooke. I believe they’re legit, and I will not engage with anyone about that topic. 

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah

@coni-martina @johndeaconshands @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle​ @vicouscirce​ @arianabrashierstuff​

You headed straight to the bathroom and threw up. Ben had called twice on your way home, but you’d let it go to voicemail, not ready to hear him admonish you for eavesdropping on him or to be asked if you felt the same. You supposed it was adrenaline or something that was making you feel nauseous. Of course, you’d have to talk to him eventually, at least to apologise for going so off book, but it could wait until you weren’t feeling so miserable. With teary eyes, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed a drink to help settle your stomach, and then flopped onto the couch to flick through TV channels until you found something distracting enough. Your phone rang again but when you glanced at the screen it wasn’t Ben’s name you saw. “Mary?” If she heard any evidence of your distress in your voice she didn’t mention it, “Brilliant performance Y/N. The video was tweeted out about ten minutes after you left the restaurant and it’s already been shared more than you’d believe.” “Oh, that’s good.” “Better than good. People are eating it up. There’ll be articles tomorrow predicting your breakup and not just the ones we’ve organised. We’re going to ask that you and Ben refrain from seeing each other in public for the next two weeks or so, make it look like you’re taking some time apart. That’ll give the video plenty of time to circulate and allow us to get out a few variations of the trouble in paradise story. Of course, you’re free to visit each other and speak over the phone but be wary in case other paparazzi start following you in addition to the one’s we’ve hired. Chances are more people will be looking to scoop the official breakup story if all goes as well as these early numbers indicate it will. Then we’ll hit them with the romantic makeup dinner at Boucher. And after that it’s back to playing the happy couple. Of course there’ll be the press junket and premiere in a couple of months’ time and then we can break you up for good.” She kept talking about plans for he press tour, something about flights and hotels, but you stopped paying attention, already getting twitter open and searching for the video. It didn’t take long to find it, the caption proclaiming he who’d caught the footage had noticed you and Ben arrive and had pulled out his camera as soon as he realised things weren’t particularly happy. “Sorry, Mary, I’m gonna have to call you back.” “Everything alright?” “Yeah, just a small mishap with the washing machine. I’ll talk to you later.” As soon as she was gone you pressed play on the video. Filmed from a table to the left of yours and slightly behind your shoulder, the phone tipped at an angle so it wouldn’t be spotted. Your heart pounded as you watched. It was all there, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife as Ben tried to draw you into conversation. You heard the bite in your tone, the confusion in his. And you saw what you’d not noticed in the moment. The way his face fell when you said it was too much. The way his nails dug into his palm as he clutched his fork so tightly. The hurt on his face when you called him clingy and needy. He stood up as you walked away but he didn’t follow, just dragged his hand through his hair and then sat down heavily, worrying at his thumbnail with his teeth. The waiter came over, presumably with the bill but the video cut out before anything more was said. They’d got what they wanted. They didn’t need the aftermath.

The next day there was an unexpected knock on your door. You put down your phone where you were watching the video again and peeked out the window, worried that it was Ben come to confront you. Instead you saw Felicity raise her fist and knock again. “I saw the video,” was the first thing she said when you let her in, “are you okay?” “I wish people would stop asking me that. I’m fine.” “You had a straight up cat fight in the middle of a restaurant, and there are paparazzi practically camping in your front yard, you’re not fine.” “Okay, maybe not fine fine. But it’s whatever. How many are out there?” “Three. But what happened? Last week you told me you weren’t going to break up.” “We haven’t broken up.” “Well then what was that?” “I don’t know. It’s been building for a bit I guess. He’s just more serious about it all than I am.” “So I heard. Are you sure you aren’t just panicking?” “Panicking about what?” “Well, y’know, you’ve been in the tabloids a bit lately. That must put a strain on things. Maybe you just got a little freaked out by it and pushed Ben away rather than let yourself be vulnerable,” “What are you my shrink?” “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” “Yeah well, you’re wrong. The paps are kind of annoying but they aren’t the problem. The problem…” you took a breath as you considered what was safe to say, “the problem is that Ben has been on a different page to me for a while now. I think we both just need some space.” “Okay, if that’s what you want to go with,” she clearly didn’t believe you, “Have you talked to him about it?” “Not yet. Figured I’d call back sometime today when my head was clearer.” She nodded, “Well, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Moral support when you call him or someone to bitch to afterwards or just somebody to get drunk with.” She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight and for a moment you felt like you might cry. All you could think about was Ben’s expression when you walked out, how wounded he looked.

Felicity stayed with you for the rest of the day which was good because her presence stopped you from doing nothing but watching the video over and over again. As it was you found it hard to keep yourself from looking at the comments people left on it. A lot of people took Ben’s side, calling you a bitch or worse, sometimes even direct messaging you their opinions. But there were also those lampooning Ben for smothering you, some going so far as to claim they were early signs of manipulative and controlling tendencies and that he deserved the public humiliation of it all. Those were the comments that made you feel worst. Being called a cunt you could deal with. Being told Ben deserved better you could easily deal with. But seeing such horrible suggestions of Ben being thrown about made your heart ache. He wasn’t mean or manipulative. He’d been nothing but kind to everyone on set and especially to you. Any lingering annoyance that hadn’t left you along with the little you’d eaten seemed to melt away, leaving you feeling cold at the thought of what you’d said. Yes he’d been stupid and selfish to agree to pretend to date you when he actually had a crush on you. But not once had he tried to wheedle a confession of love from you, not once had he pushed himself onto you. He’d always been respectful of your boundaries, warned you before he kissed you, asked if you wanted to share a blanket rather than just assume you did. Even your rules he’d mostly stuck to. The one exception being the cutesy nickname, but you’d never put up much of a fight with that. You only knew that he felt something for you because you’d listened in to a private conversation. And really, could you blame him for developing feelings? You’d literally been cast as lovers because you had good chemistry and then you’d spent weeks getting even closer, made all the more necessary by your fake romance. He was hardly the first person in history to have his on-screen feelings transfer to real life. And surely, if he’d decided to tell his friend everything, even after signing contractual documents about keeping it secret, then he must be serious about you, about how much he liked you. Maybe you had it wrong. Maybe there was something there you hadn’t consi-. “Stop wallowing,” Felicities voice cut through your thoughts, “Put the phone down and stop thinking about Ben for five minutes.” You shook your head to clear it, “I’m not wallowing.” “Are you on twitter right now?” “Maybe,” “You’re wallowing. C’mon, give me the phone.” She held out her hand, giving you had no choice but to hand it over. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a good teacher,” “Once or twice. You can have this,” she brandished your phone at you and then shoved it into her bag, “back when you’re ready to call Ben. Until then we are getting out of the house.” “Out of the house where?” you asked, letting her pull you from your seat. “Just out. You need some fresh air. Go on, get your shoes.” “Alright, alright, I’m going,” you said, with the first genuine chuckle you’d had in days.

You ended up at the park a street over, sitting on a bench overlooking the duckpond. One or two of the photographers followed you, but they were easy to ignore. As soon as you stopped moving your mind was back on the previous night, but Felicity must have sensed as much for she quickly blurted out a fun fact about ducks to distract you. For the rest of the time you were there she kept your mind on other things. She gave you an extended rundown on all the gossip from her workplace. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know who Derick was, you soon heard all about his tryst with the copy boy, and when you asked if the Susie M who was mentioned was the same Susie M that made out with the boss at last year’s Christmas party you heard all about the fallout from her drunk misstep. Felicity led you on a stroll around the pond as you laughed at her stories and filled her in on what you were hoping your next role would be. “I’ve been sent a couple of interesting scripts. There’s one for a sci fi time travel thing which I’m hoping to get a call back for. And there was one for a comedy about a coven of witches causing mayhem with their potions. I’m only about halfway through the script but I’d happily play any of the three lead witches, so I think I’ll have a crack at it.” “They both sound really good. Different to your last role.” “Yeah. Different’s good though.” Eventually you wound your way towards a small coffee shop opposite the far side of the park. The slice of apple tea cake you ordered was the first food you’d eaten since the few bites at dinner and Felicity didn’t let you leave until you’d finished it, though she was subtle in her insistence. When you put your fork down with food still left on the plate she ordered a second coffee for each of you which gave you little to do but keep eating. You thanked her after but she pretended not to know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until you got home again that she returned your phone. “You should call Ben,” “Do I have to?” “Stop pouting and do it. You’re cute together and you obviously love him. Just suck it up and talk to him.” You let out a heavy sigh and then took the phone back, refraining from rolling your eyes at how wrong she was about your feelings.

You headed out onto the back patio and, with some slight trepidation, called Ben. The call rang out. With a frown you headed back inside only to be greeted by Felicity making chicken noises. “I didn’t chicken out, he just didn’t pick up. He must be busy.” “Or he’s upset. Call back. You can come in after he’s not picked up three times or you’ve had a chat.” “Okay, I’ll try again, jeez,” you went back outside and shut the door behind you. Your second attempt was as unsuccessful as your first and you were just about to hang up on the third try when he picked up. “Hello?” “Hi Ben,” “Y/N,” there was none of the joy in his voice that usually accompanied your name. “Can we talk, is now a good time?” “Yeah,” “Okay, I just, uh, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t pick up straight away.” “Well I wouldn’t want to come across as more needy than I already do.” “I shouldn’t have said that,” you leaned against the wall of the house in the same spot you’d seen Ben lean countless times after you’d told him he couldn’t smoke inside, “I’m so so sorry about everything I said.” “It’s not what you said, Y/N. I get it, we had to fight and you let loose. From an acting perspective I’m actually really fucking impressed. I, uh, I might have watched the video when I got home, just once, and it looks legit. Like, that line about pretending to love me as much as I do you.” You held your breath, waiting for him to ask how you knew. “I mean, that’s exactly what we were going for anyway, just without the details of not having met each other’s families. Everyone still heard us argue about moving at different paces and it was some really great improvisation.” “You think so?” “Yeah absolutely. I don’t think I could have come up with a line like that on the fly. Seriously, if we were allowed to tell people it was fake, that would have fit well on your audition reel.” “So you’re not upset with me?” There was a pause as Ben thought about his next words. “Not upset exactly. Like I said, I get that it was a scene. But the way you sounded when you called me clingy….it was pretty clear there were some real feelings in there too and I,” Ben sighed, “I just wish you’d talk to me about how you were feeling beforehand.” “I didn’t really know how.” “But if I’d known that I was making you uncomfortable or coming across as clingy I would have pulled back. I could have texted less or crashed at your place less often. Not insisted on buying you books on our fake dates.” You scuffed your foot against the ground, not sure whether to come clean about overhearing him. You’d expected Ben to have realised by now that you knew, not to take what you’d said as some incredible performance. “I know I got kinda caught up in it all though,” he said before you could summon the courage to admit anything, “I, um, I really like…” You could feel your heart racing, convinced he was about to confess his feelings for you, completely unsure how to react. “…being someone’s boyfriend.” “Oh,” Why was he so determined to surprise you? Why did you feel disappointed? “It suits me. I like having someone to dote on and take care of and talk to and I guess it’s been a while since I properly, seriously dated anyone. I feel like I’ve got all this boyfriend energy stored up and nowhere for it to go. It comes in handy when we’re pretending to be on a date or whatever but sometimes it slips out when we’re just hanging out as friends, without the cameras and all that. Which isn’t an excuse or anything, I’m not trying to undermine any discomfort you felt.” “No, I get it.” “You do?” “Yeah. I mean, we said it was a weird situation right back when it was first pitched to us. That hasn’t really changed, has it?” “No,” he said with a small, soft chuckle, “still weird.” “Exactly. And sometimes I think it can be kind of confusing.” “Confusing?” You had a sudden mental image of a dog with pricked up ears, “Confusing’s maybe the wrong word. Hard to keep up with is I guess what I’m trying to say. It’s different to acting in love with someone on a movie because on a movie there’s a definite time span. The director calls cut and you can stop pretending. But we don’t get that cut. Even when there’s no cameras we’re still faking it for the people we know and anyone who might see us,” you glanced inside to make sure Felicity wasn’t listening in. “Do you think that’s why you didn’t know how to talk to me? Because there’s no clear line between Y/N and Ben as friends and Y/N and Ben as a couple.” “Maybe,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it helps.” “Yeah. It’s like, obviously there are times when we have to be all coupley and I guess it gets hard to say when something is uncomfortable because then it’s like what about next time we’re out and we have to do that thing anyway. And there are things I’m happy to do with my friends that I don’t think twice about but might carry extra meaning in our situation.” “Exactly. I don’t want to say I don’t like something and make you feel bad when we then have to do it because people are watching.” “So what are you suggesting then?” “Well, we aren’t allowed to see each other in public for a couple of weeks now, right? So maybe this could be a chance for us to take a break. Not in a completely cut off way, I still wanna talk to you and stuff. But if we give ourselves some space, y’know. Try and shake….excess feelings a-and work out our boundaries better.” “Sure, yeah, I can see how that would help.” “It’s just a couple of weeks and like we can still text or call or whatever we just wouldn’t hang out together and it wouldn’t be every day.” “Y/N, I get it. It’s a good idea.” You took a deep breath, “Okay. Cool. Um, so we’re good?” “Of course we are. I-” Ben seemed to stop himself from saying something, instead sighing, “We’re good,” “Good.” There was nothing else to stay but you didn’t want to hang up. Neither did Ben, it seemed, both of you just standing in silence. You could hear faint music playing on his end, like it was coming from another room. Maybe he was in his kitchen, leaning against the bench, the radio on in the next room over. Or maybe he was sitting on his couch, the TV down low so the repetitive game music wouldn’t disturb your conversation. You could see him so clearly, sitting in his usual seat, controller abandoned beside him. You wondered if he could tell where you were. “I guess I should go then,” He said softly, “I’ll talk to you soon.” “Bye Ben,” “Bye cud- Y/N.”

“How’d it go?” Felicity asked when you came back inside. “Alright. We’re gonna take a break from seeing each other so much and sort out how we feel and stuff.” “That sounds good,” “Yeah,” you felt relieved at having had the conversation but it was mixed with a weird sadness you couldn’t put your finger on, making you feel vaguely like you wanted to be sick again. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit. I’ll hang out and then tonight we can order pizza and watch cat videos or vine compilations or something dumb like that.” “You don’t have to stay, I’m fine.” “Hun, I’m staying. Maybe I’ll take a run to the shop, pick up some ice cream and booze and face masks. Sound fun?” “Definitely,” “Alrighty then, it’s a plan.” You felt slightly cheered by the thought as you made your way to your room and fell onto the bed, not bothering to change or move the covers, but it didn’t stop room from blurring with tears as soon as you were alone.

Keeping the distance between you and Ben was a mixed bag. On one hand not seeing each other meant there was no lingering pressure of another date or photo opportunity weighing on you. But on the other it also meant a queue of TV shows you felt unable to watch since you’d started them together. You didn’t have to worry that Ben would suddenly call you or rock up on your doorstep, unable to keep his affections to himself any longer. But you also missed out on random messages asking if you could remember that song (“you know the one it was from the early 2000s. Went something like…,”) or the way he’d chuck popcorn at you from the other side of the couch until you managed to catch some in your mouth. It gave you a chance to relax without worrying you were leading him on, or that you’d say the wrong thing, or that the rules you’d come up with would be broken. But that was because you barely spoke to him. Your communication was kept to text messages whenever something big happened and not much more. Ben sent you a message when he got a call back for one of the movies he’d auditioned for. You texted him when your neighbour’s dog had puppies, partly because they’d asked if you knew anyone who could adopt one when it was a little bigger, but partly because the second you saw the babies you thought of how much he’d love them. And yes, you were sleeping better without so much pressure and anxiety, but it hadn’t stopped Ben from appearing in your dreams and even daydreams, explicitly so more often than you were willing to admit. Then of course there was the bombardment of emails from family and friends checking in on you after they’d seen the video. It got so out of hand you’d had to make a rare post on your private Facebook account letting them know things were fine, just to get them to stop harassing you. But you couldn’t stop the harassment you were getting from strangers on all your other social media pages. You got into the bad habit of checking all the big gossip mag websites for  stories about you, following them with as much fervour as any fan might. Ben must have had some paparazzi taking up residence on his street too because you saw countless pictures of Ben going about his day – out with friends, walking to Tesco, smoking outside a pub. And every time there was some story attached either about how heartbroken he was or about how he was sneaking off to meet you in private. You coped the same treatment, though sometimes with the added twist of announcing you were pregnant. All it did was make you wish you could have a hug from Ben and talk about it with him. You came very close to buying a pack of cigarettes one day, just so you could burn one and have its scent linger around your house like Ben had brought it in with him. Felicity was brilliant. She found amusement in the unfamiliar photographers, especially when an article appeared with photos of you and her hugging on your doorstep, speculating you’d moved on from Ben already. It wasn’t so surprising that she’d snuck her way into the magazines she so loved to read considering she checked in on you a lot in the first few days. But, as much as you loved her, and as much as she made you laugh, she had her own job and partner to think about and she couldn’t quite grasp what was happening the same way Ben could have. You missed him more than you thought you would, even with all the baggage from his unrequited crush. So much so that the realisation your makeup date was approaching had you grinning as you made your morning coffee, humming the song from his mug.

It was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one, to hear your phone ringing at close to nine the night before the date. You were sitting in bed playing solitaire on your laptop when your ringtone interrupted. Ben was apologetic as he greeted you, repeatedly saying sorry for calling at all. “It’s okay Ben, I really don’t mind.” You said, putting the laptop aside and relaxing back against the pillows. “Are you sure? I should have just emailed you.” “Ben, stop. I’m glad you called. I’ve missed hearing your voice.” “You have?” “Of course I have. I spent two and a bit months doing nothing but listen to you blab, you really think I’d just forget you?” You could hear his smile when he continued, “I’ve missed talking to you too. I figured this would be a good excuse.” “This being?” “Tomorrow night. Peter said he’d send you the info.” “Of course, yeah I got his email. Tomorrow night, meeting at Boucher at seven.” “Yup, that’s the info.” “I was told to dress up and be prepared to smooch.” “Did he say smooch?” “No,” you laughed, “His phrasing sounded a lot stuffier and careful not to create a lawsuit, but I figured that’s what he meant.” “Yeah, um, you’re okay with that?” “Absolutely. It’s a makeup dinner and we’re going to be together for another couple of months so we should play up the romance and the um, physicality and all that.” You tried to ignore the sudden warmth in your cheeks and the memory of your last dream. “Okay, good because I was specifically told about what happens when we leave the restaurant.” “Hmmm I think I remember something about that but again, stuffy non-lawsuit language. Kinda hard to follow at times.” “Basically they want us to make out while we wait for an Uber. Like, proper make out.” “Oh,” “I told them neither of us are public make out people but they’re insisting they need it. Something about it being an obvious indication of getting back together or whatever. And technically we agreed to it when we signed up for this whole thing.” “Thanks for the heads up.” “No worries. Glad I called now, wouldn’t have wanted to just spring that on you. But um, that’s it really, I’ll let you get back to your last night of peace.” “Wait,” you blurted without having anything else to say. “Yeah?” “Ummm, oh! Did you hear anything more about that movie?” “Not yet but Peter said they’re still in talks. Hopefully soon.” “What’s it about?” “It’s an actiony thriller thing. This guy, the role I auditioned for, witnesses a murder and then gets dragged into this revenge mission. I’d get to shoot some big guns and drive a cool car and y’know save the girl, all that stuff.” “Sounds fun,” “Yeah, what about you, any auditions?” “One or two but nothing’s come of them. I sent my reel in for this supernatural comedy about a coven of witches. Too soon to know anything though.” “Well I hope you get it,” “Yeah, likewise.” “Thanks.” You were forcefully reminded of your last conversation when you both lapsed into silence again, neither of you making any move to hang up. You wanted to keep talking but part of you was worried that if you used up all your conversation topics now, you’d have nothing to talk about over dinner tomorrow, and if that happened you were bound to blurt out something you shouldn’t. Instead you just savoured the sound of Ben’s breaths and the odd rustle of clothing as he shifted around. Once again he was the one to break the silence. “Well, as lovely as it has been to chat, I should go. Gotta get a good night sleep so I’m ready to woo you tomorrow.” “You’re not going to bed yet are you? It’s so early,” “I was gonna read or something for a bit actually.” “Have you finished that show we started?” “Which one?” “Any of them? “No. Figured they could wait.” “You wanna watch one now?” “What, over the phone?” “Yeah, we can try to time it so it plays at the same time.” “Uh, sure, why not,” You quickly grabbed your laptop and, after some discussion of which show you were more in the mood for, found the right episode. There was laughter on both ends of the line as you attempted to hit play at the same time, counting down from three between giggles. It took you a few tries but you eventually got them to sync up, more or less. It felt nice to hear Ben’s laughter again, his voice when he sang along with the soundtrack, his comments about the nitty gritty of the production side – odd line deliveries and angles of shots. He was easy to talk to. Though with everything that had happened, everything you knew, just the act of talking to him set off butterflies in your stomach.

It took you well over an hour to get ready for the date. You’d been told to go all out so that’s exactly what you did. With a little help from Felicity so you could get away with a calming pre dinner drink. She gave you a hand choosing an outfit – a dress, short but not too short, classy but eye catching. It had started life as a dress for a movie premiere but after a few years the top didn’t fit quite right so you’d had it altered, the skirt was taken up, cut off and attached to a new top that more suited your current style, leaving you with a slightly shorter and much more you outfit. Glass of Prosecco close to hand, Felicity worked on your hair and offered advice on your makeup. When you were finished and could reveal the full look to her, she squealed. “You’re absolutely going to get laid.” “Shut up. I look alright though? Lipstick’s not too dark?” “Honey, you look gorgeous. I swear, you’re gonna get dicked down in the bathroom of that fancy as fuck restaurant because he’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off you.” You burst out laughing, “Good to know. Not exactly the plan for the evening but at least I’m prepared now.” “What is your plan?” “I don’t really have one, which is not helping me stay calm. I guess just find out if he’s still interested in me. And then work out where we go from there. We talked last night and that was good but I just need to know if he’s, you know, still into me.” “He’s head over heels for you, that won’t have changed. The question is, do you love him?” You wanted to say no but obviously couldn’t so you settled for a soft, “I’ve have missed him.” She hummed with an annoyingly knowing look. “I should be going, the Uber’ll be here soon.” Felicity pulled you into a hug, “Knock him dead, Y/N,” and then, as an afterthought added, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” “You first hooked up with your girlfriend because some drunk guy told you he’d buy you both drinks if you made out. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.” Felicity laughed, “That was just a free drink, imagine what I’d do if there was a fancy French dinner involved.”

You arrived before Ben did. A quick glance up and down the street told you he wasn’t approaching just yet, so you opened your clutch to give yourself something to think about other than the sound of snapping cameras. Phone, lipstick, tissues, compact mirror, three condoms. You laughed to yourself when you saw them and made a mental note to lie about how useful they were when you next saw Felicity. Quick footsteps caught your attention and you looked up in time to see Ben running towards you. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said between breaths, pressing a kiss to your cheek as soon as he was within reach, “My Uber got caught in traffic and I had to make a stop,” He held out a small bouquet of flowers in a variety of pinks, purples and yellows. “For me?” “No for the other girl I’m seeing, of course for you. You like them?” “They’re beautiful,” you took the bouquet and breathed in its sweet scent. “I saw it in the shop and, um yeah, I don’t know, they seemed nice, a-and I know you, um, like nice things, so,” he stopped babbling with a pained expression on his face, for once more visibly nervous than you. “It’s very sweet of you, thank you,” “I’m glad you think so because right now it feels kinda cliché and cheesy. Now you have to carry them around all night, what was I thinking? And god can I just shut up. Sorry.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he scrunched his nose up and ran his hand through his hair, unintentionally endearing, “Calm down, Ben, we’ve done this before.” “I know,” “Let’s just go inside, further away from these cameras, and have a drink, sound good? “God yes,” he nodded and let you lead him through the door up to the hostess stand, managing to pull himself together enough to give her the name of the booking. As expected, she told you to wait in the bar until a table was ready.

Ben downed his first drink in one hit. It made you wonder how hard he was finding it to be around you. Had the space helped him quiet his feeling for you? Or had it just made him want you more? Was that why he seemed so out of sorts, stumbling over his words in a way that was so unlike him. You desperately wanted to find out where he stood but it was impossible without giving yourself away. What you needed was for him to make another phone call you could overhear but the likelihood of that happening was slim. You’d just have to put it from your mind for now. “Better?” You asked Ben as he caught the barman’s attention and ordered a second drink. “Getting there,” He took the new glass and drank, just a sip this time, “You look stunning by the way. I should have said it earlier,” “Thank you, you look very handsome,” He glanced down at the suit he was wearing, “Thanks.” A somewhat awkward silence followed. “So,” you said, louder than necessary, desperate to get him talking like he normally did lest you start to freak out too, “You been here before?” “No. Never even heard of it before Mary and Peter mentioned it. You?” “Same.” You looked around the room, searching for something else to talk about, “Nice though.” “Yeah, yeah, really swanky.” “Bit different from the painting thing,” “Yeah, very. Look I need to tell you someth-” “Mr Hardy? Your table is ready,” You smiled at the hostess, as he thanked her, and followed her towards a table for two, setting your bouquet down to the side. Ben smiled at you from across the table. “You were saying?” you asked, apprehensive and curious. “Oh, um, nothing, doesn’t matter. We’ve got a date to focus on.” “Wouldn’t want all these prying eyes to miss anything,” “Exactly. Cuddle bunny,” You smiled at the nickname despite its ridiculousness and leaned forward in your seat slightly, letting your fingers gently rest against the back of his hand. If he wanted to focus on the date and putting on a good show for the public then that was something you could do, “Babe.” The flush you’d seen creep onto Ben’s face before appeared again and he reached for his glass once more. “So, how have you been?” you asked, pulling your hand back towards you. He looked at its retreat and then back at your eyes, “Good. Got to hang out with the boys a few times last week which was really good.” “Beat them at any more video games?” “They won’t let me anywhere near FIFA at the moment,” “Discrimination,” “That’s what I tried to tell them!” he laughed, seeming to relax a little more, “bunch of babies.” “What about that trip thing you were organising, have you sorted that out?” “Not entirely. It’s with my friend Joe who lives in the States. He was going to come out here but we decided it wasn’t worth it since I’ll be over there soon anyway.” “You will?” “Well both of us will be. Part of the press stuff for The Perfect Match.” “Oh, right, of course,” you giggled and tucked your hair behind your ear. “He’s looking forward to meeting you though.” “I bet he is,” you said automatically. Of course he’d be keen to meet the woman his friend was infatuated with, you would be too. Ben gave you a questioning look but you covered well enough, “I mean, he’d obviously know about us dating so I assume he’d be curious to meet your girlfriend. Especially if we’re having public spats and stuff.” “Right, yeah, definitely. What about you? What’s been happening?”

From there you fell into your usual style of conversation, both of you relaxing more as the night wore on and the bottle of wine you ordered grew emptier. The only difference from normal was the romance of it all, played up as much as possible. Brushing hands as you both reached for the salt, soft smiles and laughs. You even went so far as to twirl a strand of hair around your finger like some love struck teenybopper in a soap opera. When your food arrived you let Ben feed you a bite off his fork. You offered a taste of your meal in return and he held your wrist as he leaned in. A gesture that left you breathless, blinking at him as he slowly withdrew his hand. The wine’s fault probably. You’d polished off the bottle by the time dessert arrived, on top of the drinks you’d had before you sat down. It made you feel looser and you assumed the same of Ben, judging by how different his demeanour was to the nervous, stuttering one he’d had when he showed up. Perhaps that was why, with a spoonful of chocolate mousse halfway to his mouth and no regard for the conversation you were having, he suddenly said, “Can I ask about these last couple of weeks?” “Uh, yeah, what d’you want to know?” “Was it good? The space, did you get what you wanted from it?” You thought for a moment, putting down your own spoon, “Yes. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t helpful because it really was. Just, having that break from everything. I think I really needed it. But I really really missed you too.” He smiled at that, looking down at his dessert like he was trying to hide it, “I’m glad. It was hard not seeing you but yeah, helped me figure some stuff out too. Confirmed some other stuff.” “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.” “Like…um, the thing I said on the phone about enjoying playing the boyfriend. I like having someone special to share things with,” He sighed, “But that’s…not relevant right now. Do you want to get out of here?” You were a little taken aback by the suddenness of the suggestion but agreed, reapplying your lipstick for the cameras while the waiter collected your bill.

Ben wrapped his arm around your waist once you were outside, pulling you close. With the pretext on planting a kiss on your temple he quietly asked if you were ready for the next part. “Lay it on me,” you giggled, feeling warm and light. A second later his hand was sliding down your side towards your bum which set off another wave of giggles. He kept you close as you walked down the street, oblivious to the flash of cameras. Ben kept his arm around you, using the other to open the app and order a car. You stopped when you reached a quiet bus stop, Ben letting you go to sit down, tapping the spot beside him. But his hand wasn’t gone for long, instead moving to cup your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss. “I missed doing that,” he muttered but you were more focused on making it happen again, shifting yourself closer, laying your hand against him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His heart was pounding under your palm, but it matched the beat against your own chest. You’d forgotten how good he was at kissing but it came flooding back as you opened your lips for him, felt his tongue against yours. His hand was firm on your back, pulling you in but still not close enough. You whined, let him pull you onto his lap, pressed yourself against him, one hand in his hair so he wouldn’t stop kissing you. His hands were everywhere, on your arms and back and squeezing your arse, holding you in place as you arched your back slightly and kissed him harder. A car horn right beside you made you pull away, startled. “Ben?” The older man asked, looking down at their phone, “I’m here to pick you up.” “Shit,” Ben said softly, and then to the driver, “Sorry, yes, that’s us.” You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder for a second, smothering your laughter. “C’mon cuddle bunny,” he said softly, “they’ve had enough of a show.” Your legs felt unsteady as you stood and smoothed your skirt down. Ben opened the back door for you and followed you inside. “So sorry about that,” he said again to the driver. He just laughed, “It’s alright. I remember being your age and completely smitten. You’re that couple I’ve seen online, right?” “Uh, yes, that’d be us, I think” “Well if you wanna keep making out I won’t stop you. Might have to tweet about it though.” Ben laughed, “Thanks but I think we can hold off for a bit.” You looked over at Ben and had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud when you saw the lipstick smudged over Ben’s face. “What is it?” Still laughing you handed ben your compact mirror and the pack of tissues from your clutch. “Christ,” he said softly, “The internet’s going to fucking love this.”

The Uber driver left you at the end of Ben’s driveway with a wink and a have fun. There were paparazzi waiting for you so you grabbed Ben’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He led you inside, refusing to let go of your hand even while trying to dig his keys from the opposite pocket. Once you were inside, you placed your slightly bruised bouquet on the hall stand, leaned against the closed door and began taking your shoes off. Normally, after being out together and winding up at Ben’s place, you’d head straight to the bathroom to take off your makeup. He’d go and fetch two glasses of water if you’d been drinking or maybe something warm if the night was cool. You’d change into the pyjamas you kept at his place and then join him in the lounge room, sometimes tucking yourselves under the same blanket, to watch TV until you were yawning and struggling to stay awake. And then you’d wish each other good night and head to your separate rooms. But this time something felt different. You kicked your shoes to the side of the hallway and stayed against the door, watching as Ben pulled his wallet from his pocket, dropping it and his keys next to your flowers. He slowly turned towards you, taking a step closer. And you knew you should move, should dodge around him, make a joke about not needing to take off your makeup since he’d already done it for you but you found yourself stepping towards him too. There was a beat as you both realised how close you were. You heard Ben swallow, watched his eyes move to your lips unashamedly. Later, when you were lying in the dark wondering what the fuck had happened, you’d tell yourself it was the wine. A brief impairment of judgement exacerbated by months of celibacy and an easily suggestable brain. Whether you believed it was another question.

You closed the gap but he was only a second behind, hand back on your waist as his other found your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, let him slowly walk you through the house towards the living room you where you’d spent so many nights joking around. He didn’t stop kissing you while you stumbled through the house, not unless he had to and even then he never went far, his breath hot against your lips. You pushed him down onto the couch and straddled his lap, continuing what had been interrupted, his hands falling back to your arse, pushing up your skirt, squeezing, as you tugged on his hair, making him groan. A single rational thought was trapped in the back of your mind, trying to breakthrough but it was hard to think when Ben was holding you like that, kissing you like that, especially after so long without being touched at all. He broke away to mouth at your throat and it was only then that you had enough time to think clearly. “Wait,” you said softly and then again more insistently. “What is it?” “What are we doing? We can’t,” “Why not?” You shook your head, and pushed yourself off of him, taking a couple of steps back, “It’s rule one Ben,” “We wouldn’t even have to break rule one though, we can just stay here on the couch. No harm in making out if we’ve already done it.” A whine caught in your throat and you took an extra half step back to keep from rushing into his arms again, more rational thoughts pushing through the broken wall and joining the first. You shouldn’t, not if there was any chance Ben still had a crush on you. It wouldn’t be fair. “I’d be good to you Y/N, you know I would,” You shook your head, “You know this isn’t real, right Ben?” “Of course I know that,” “Really? Because sometimes I think you forget I’m not actually in love with you.” What’s that supposed to mean?” You bit your lip to try and stop yourself from saying what you were about to say but it was no use, the words were already half out, “I heard you talking to Joe the night you left your keys at the bar. I know you have a crush on me.” “You heard that?” His eyes were wide, horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear I just needed a drink an-.” “Oh my god,” He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair again and you wished it was your fingers mussing it up, “Maybe you should go.” “Wait, Ben, let’s just talk about it.” “Is that why you were upset before the argument? Is that why you didn’t want to see me for the last two weeks?” “I thought some space might help you stop feeling that way.” He laughed at that, “I’m – I’ve been trying to stop feeling like this for months now, since we were filming together, but I can’t, I can’t shake you. I love you. And it won’t go away.” “You love me?” Ben nodded, looking up at you from the couch but you couldn’t meet his eye. “You don’t have to say you don’t feel the same, I know.” You didn’t know what to say, just stood there, frozen in place. “That’s what I thought,” He stood up, chewing on his lip and when he spoke he had to clear his voice to make it loud enough for you to hear, “I, um, I know I just said you should leave but you can’t go yet. There are still paparazzi out there and we’re meant to look like we’ve made up. I’m going to go to bed though and you can stay until they leave or, if you can still stand to look at me, then you’re welcome to stay the night and I’ll drop you home in the morning. I’m really sorry.” You watched him walk towards the hallway, still frozen in place.